Twists and Turns (Part 2)

Twists and Turns (Part 2)

"Hu Ba, there can only be one alpha wolf in a wolf pack—and that is me, Xinba..." Xinba had already begun howling madly. His personal guards closed in on Hu Ba like wolves hunting prey, while the other members of the Tatar Tribe spread out at a distance to watch. This was a battle for the alpha wolf's place, Xinba's challenge to Hu Ba. Only they themselves could decide their fate.

"Father... I did my best... Don't blame me..." Hu Ba raised his head to the sky and muttered to himself. His own kin stood before him, yet he could only raise the long saber in his hand. His attendants also tore off their cloth robes and reached behind their backs to draw horse-chopping sabers nearly as tall as a man.

"...Boom..." The two tides of men crashed together. Blood splattered everywhere. The sounds of blades biting flesh, beastlike howls, and desperate screams tortured the ears and nerves.

"...How... How could this be..." Xinba watched as his personal guards dwindled, while Hu Ba's attendants steadily pressed toward him. Wherever they went, no one could stop them for even a moment. The night obscured his vision, but he quickly noticed that Hu Ba's attendants were all clad in iron armor. They were simply too conspicuous—even their faces were covered by iron masks, leaving only their eyes exposed.

Hu Ba's attendants also began suffering scattered casualties, yet they continued charging resolutely toward Xinba's main tent. At this point, even the stupidest person understood that Hu Ba's trip to Great Xia had not ended empty-handed. He must have received help from some powerful patron; otherwise, how could he possess so much precious iron armor? Even a large tribe could not scrape together ten sets of iron armor.

"Sangkun... What are you still waiting for? If I die... you will never get this grassland..." Xinba saw the Tatar Tribe members wavering. He knew he could no longer count on his own tribesmen. His guards were nearly dead; now only Sangkun of the Kereit Tribe could turn the tide.

Sangkun was weighing his options as well. He had been shocked when he saw that Hu Ba had fifty sets of full-body iron armor. Iron armor had always been a rare commodity on the grasslands. Even when smugglers occasionally brought over one or two sets, they would provoke a scramble. What did the sudden appearance of so much armor signify?

"Sangkun, my brother... I swear that once I become chieftain, I'll give you the richest pasturelands." Xinba's oath made Sangkun reach a decision. He roared at Xinba, "All that iron armor belongs to me..."

"Of course. All the spoils are yours." Overjoyed to hear that Sangkun was willing to help, Xinba did not care about mere spoils. As long as he survived, the Kereit Tribe would sooner or later become his dinner.

The two spoke in the grassland tongue, and Xu Liyan, mixed among Hu Ba's attendants, did not understand what they said. But after they finished speaking, he saw a large group of grassland warriors step forward and gather—at least three hundred men. By then, Hu Ba's guards were already at the end of their tether. The iron armor and horse-chopping sabers were simply too heavy. These grassland barbarians were not cultivators; lasting this long in battle was already remarkable.

Xu Liyan spotted the leader who was continuously directing the warriors to assemble. He extended his lone arm and slowly drew his battle saber. It was a high-quality weapon engraved with an acceleration formation, a reward he had received while serving as Qin Lan's personal guard.

Sangkun was just about to order his guards to charge into the battlefield and settle everything with a single blow when his heart suddenly clenched, as though a snow bear had fixed its gaze on him. The danger sense forged through years of battle told him that an expert had targeted him. He looked up and swept his gaze around, only to see a one-armed man holding a saber beside Hu Ba. His icy eyes stared directly at Sangkun, and his entire body resembled a spear with all its sharpness bared, chilling the soul.

"...Husar, lead the men in. Capture Hu Ba alive if possible... And... watch out for that one-armed man." Sangkun shook his head, driving away his inexplicable fear. He had reached the final stretch. How could he abandon the fruit already within reach because of one one-armed man?

Husar, the commander of Xinba's personal guards, revealed a bloodthirsty gleam in his eyes. He had confidence in his brothers. Hu Ba's armored attendants had lost nearly half their number and their strength was waning; he already regarded them as his spoils. After this battle, the Chile River grasslands would all become pastures of the Kereit Tribe, and he himself would be promoted to chief commander, living the life of a noble lord.

Howling, Husar led the charge toward the center of the battlefield. They had no strict formation, but conflict on the grasslands had never ceased. Through real combat, they had learned the simplest formation—the Piercing Formation. The strongest warrior formed its spearpoint, while the toughest fighters guarded both flanks. Its tactical principle was remarkably similar to Great Xia's Arrowhead Formation.

Before Husar had even reached the battlefield, a shining blade flashed before his eyes. The thought of raising his weapon to resist had only just crossed his mind; his wrist had not yet moved when he felt a chill on his forehead. The world before him began to freeze... dim... darken.

Sangkun, watching from behind, saw a little more clearly—only a little. His guards had just begun their charge when that one-armed man who had filled him with dread suddenly moved. Then a blade flashed through his guards' formation. Husar was split in two. The blade's momentum did not diminish; only after five or six more guards had sent flesh and blood flying did the gleam finally vanish completely.

"...A cultivator... A cultivator from Great Xia... Run..." Sangkun only had time to shout "Run" before turning and fleeing. He regretted it to death. When he had seen that one-armed man earlier, why had he not realized he was a cultivator? And not some low-ranking cultivator either. No matter how much of a country bumpkin Sangkun was, he was still a grassland noble. Releasing vital energy to kill invisibly... that was a Mysterious Realm cultivator.

As Sangkun desperately drove his trembling legs onward, he prayed, I hope he won't trouble a small fry like me. I hope he can't be bothered with me. He knew that if a Mysterious Realm cultivator wanted him dead, hiding among an army would be useless. Taking an enemy general's head amidst ten thousand troops was precisely the sort of thing cultivators loved to do.

His prayers moved Heaven. That terrifying one-armed man never left Hu Ba's side. Sangkun fled all the way out of Xinba's great camp and found his main cavalry force, only then ceasing to panic. But he had no thought of turning back to reclaim his honor. That very night, he broke camp and force-marched back to the Kereit Tribe's traditional territory.

Watching Sangkun's guards collapse and flee, Xinba finally felt true despair. He had no more reserves, no reinforcements left. Looking at the dozen or so guards still fighting desperately before him, Xinba closed his eyes in agony. Only then did he understand what it meant for every hope to turn to ash.

"Stop... Stop, all of you..." For the first time, Xinba realized that he could make such a desolate sound. It was like the cries of abandoned old people in a tribe struck by the white disaster, silently waiting to freeze to death.

"Stop... Stop, all of you..." Hu Ba had closed his eyes after Xu Liyan made his move. Victory no longer held any suspense, yet there was no joy in his heart. The field was soaked in the blood of his own Tatar Tribe. These people had once been his subordinates, brothers, and friends.

"Hu Ba... Spare my tribe. This was all my fault. The others have nothing to do with it."

Hu Ba looked at his surrendered elder brother. After a long silence, he said, "Your tribe belongs to the Tatar Tribe, and the Tatar Tribe is my tribe. What they did has nothing to do with you. You may leave, but you cannot take away the people of our Tatar Tribe. This is the greatest mercy I can grant."

Xinba opened his mouth, wanting to say something more, but when he saw the corpses covering the ground and the crowd around him drawing farther and farther away, he knew Hu Ba truly could give him no more. After all, only days ago, he had attacked Hu Ba's herdsmen and caused many deaths.

To placate the tribesmen most loyal to him, Hu Ba would surely distribute the herdsmen under Xinba's command among them as slaves. This was the natural law of the grasslands for thousands of years. The defeated... would lose everything they possessed. From now on, he could only become a wanderer on the grasslands. From a leader commanding tens of thousands to a destitute drifter, Xinba finally shed tears of regret.

"Hu Ba, my little brother, please... spare my children..."

Hu Ba looked at his brother, who had suddenly aged ten years, nodded, and agreed to his request.

Xinba laid down his final worry. He closed his eyes for a moment, gathered his courage, and drew his waist saber across his own throat. Blood sprayed out with a hissing sound, like the cold wind blowing down from the north at this season.