Earlier, when Murong Chong had led the Rouge Warriors through the West Gate, he had sternly rebuked the gate guards, saying that Grand Tutor Murong Ping had asked him to invite Chen Caozhi on a hunt. Chen Caozhi had kept this in mind without asking further questions. Together with Ran Sheng, Shen Chiqian, and Su Qi, he followed Murong Chong westward at a gallop. West of Ye City rose the towering Taihang Mountains. The morning sun was rising now, and the autumn air was clear and bracing. In the distance, the dark mountains looked as though painted in indigo, their verdant hues soaring into the sky in a picturesque vista.
The Xianbei excelled at riding and archery. Although Murong Chong was young, he was an accomplished horseman, and the dappled horse beneath him was exceptionally spirited. He often raced more than a hundred feet ahead alone, then slowed his mount to wait for Chen Caozhi and the others to catch up. Seeing that none of the four carried bows or arrows, he asked, "Chen Xima, can you shoot?"
"I have never learned archery," Chen Caozhi replied, "but my three attendants are excellent shots. Unfortunately, when we arrived in Ye City, all their bows and arrows were handed over to your country's Prince of Taiyuan and have yet to be returned."
Influenced by his imperial mother, of the Kezuhun Clan, Murong Chong also had a very poor opinion of Murong Ke. He felt that confiscating Chen Caozhi's bows and arrows simply tarnished Great Yan's national prestige. Could Great Yan, with its territory spanning ten thousand li and its million bowmen, possibly fear these few bows? Would letting them keep their weapons not better display Great Yan's magnanimity? Pursing his lips, he said, "Once we reach the Prince of Shangyong's Manor, you