Cutting Down the Banner, Striking the Commander

Security here was extremely tight, with a guard post every three steps and a sentry every five. Patrols came and went without cease.

But the unlucky fellow Chen Ye had disguised himself as seemed to be a familiar face here.

He staggered along, and the patrols he encountered merely laughed and cursed at him, urging him to get back to bed. None grew suspicious.

That allowed Chen Ye to slip into the heart of the area without trouble.

The towering stacks of grain and fodder stood out starkly amid the wind and snow.

Just as Chen Ye approached, a sharp shout came from behind him.

"Stop!"

It was the steppe language!

Chen Ye had devoted himself to studying the steppe language for some time. Since it was very simple and primitive, he had quickly picked it up, and now he had mastered it.

He turned to see a burly general striding toward him with a squad of personal guards.

"Which tent are you from? What are you doing here in the middle of the night?"

Chen Ye pretended to be drunk and mumbled indistinctly, "General, I... I needed to piss. I went the wrong way."

Seeing how drunk he looked, the general's wary expression eased somewhat.

Steppe men loved liquor as much as life itself. Though drinking was forbidden in the army, sneaking a few sips in private was common, and as long as it didn't interfere with important business, he usually turned a blind eye.

"Get back. If you dare wander in here again, I'll chop your head off!" The general waved impatiently.

"Yes, yes..." Chen Ye bobbed and bowed as he answered, but his body swayed toward the general as though he couldn't keep his footing.

A flicker of disgust crossed the general's eyes, and he was about to curse at him again.

But the instant the two passed each other, everything changed!

A chill gleam flashed from Chen Ye's sleeve and vanished, too fast for anyone to react!

The impatience and anger froze on the general's face. He looked down in disbelief at the throwing knife now lodged in his throat, the light in his eyes rapidly fading.

It had happened so quickly that the soldiers nearby had yet to realize what had occurred.

And Chen Ye gave them no time to react.

He reached into his robes and pulled out several black earthenware wine jars. With a swing of his arm, he hurled them straight into the mountain of grain and fodder.

These were enhanced firebombs he had recently devised, more powerful than the one he had used at Duke Anguo's Residence, with fiercer flames.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The jars shattered, sending the acrid smell of fire oil spreading in every direction. The grain and fodder, long since dried by the cold wind, caught fire almost instantly!

The biting wind became the perfect accomplice. Fire rode the wind, and wind fed the flames. In only a few breaths, the flames leaped several yards high and swiftly joined into a sea of fire, lighting half the night sky crimson!

"Assassin! Put out the fire!"

Only then did the personal guards awaken as if from a dream and roar as they charged at Chen Ye.

But Chen Ye had already calculated the timing. He sprang away, and in a few bounds, he darted into the shadows in the distance and vanished.

Inside the central command tent.

Yelü Boyang was drinking deeply from a golden cup.

The commotion outside made him frown. He was about to rebuke someone when a strong smell of burning wafted in on the cold wind.

His heart gave a sudden jolt. He threw back the tent flap and rushed outside.

When he saw the blaze in the direction of the grain and fodder, fierce enough to burn the heavens and boil the seas, the pupils of the ruler of the steppe contracted to pinpoints.

"My supplies!"

Yelü Boyang let out a beastlike roar, the muscles of his face twisting with extreme rage.

But he soon forced himself to calm down.

He was the king of the steppe, the backbone of tens of thousands of wolf riders. At a time like this, he could least afford to lose his composure.

"Pass down my orders! Every unit is to keep its soldiers in line. Anyone who dares cause trouble in the chaos is to be executed on the spot, without mercy!"

"Order the rear army to the fire at once. Put it out for me, your khan, at any cost!"

He bellowed one clear order after another, and the camp, which had already begun to fall into unrest, was indeed forced into a measure of stability by his authority.

Just then, a soldier came running toward him, blackened all over and dressed in rags.

As the soldier ran, he screamed in the steppe language, "Great Khan, the fire's out of control! A lot of the brothers inside are dead!"

Yelü Boyang was already burning with anxiety. Seeing someone who had escaped the fire, he immediately shouted, "You, come here! What exactly is happening inside?"

At those words, the soldier hurried over, stumbling as he came.

But the instant he drew near, Yelü Boyang's sharp eyes suddenly narrowed.

Something was wrong!

There was a subtle difference between the way this man walked and the gait of a steppe man who had ridden horses for years!

Steppe men grew up on horseback, and their legs unconsciously bowed outward. Though the man before him was stumbling, his legs were far too straight for him to be a steppe man!

The difference was extremely subtle. Unless someone was as meticulous as a strand of hair, there was no way to notice it.

"Who are you?!" Yelü Boyang demanded sharply, his hand already on the hilt of the saber at his waist.

His answer was several icy flashes, swift as lightning!

"Protect the Great Khan!"

Yelü Boyang twisted sharply to one side, narrowly avoiding the blows aimed at his heart and throat. But a piercing pain still shot through his shoulder, where a throwing knife had buried itself.

In the space of a lightning flash, the personal guards surged forward like a tide, surrounding Yelü Boyang and shielding him tightly, their blades pointed straight at the assassin.

But the assassin showed no desire to prolong the fight. He stepped back and melted like a ghost into the darkness behind him, vanishing completely.

"Pfft!" Yelü Boyang pulled the throwing knife from his shoulder and felt a numb, itchy sensation at the wound rather than piercing pain.

Poison!

His heart went cold. With such an elusive, top-tier assassin at his side, how could he ever eat or sleep in peace again?

Yet he soon had no need to worry about that.

For just then, the great wolf-head banner above the central command tent behind him, the symbol of his supreme authority, snapped in two and slowly drifted down.

Immediately afterward, a roar rang out across the entire camp.

"Yelü Boyang is dead-!"

The shout was like a ladle of cold water poured into a pot of boiling oil.

The entire camp fell deathly silent for an instant, then erupted in an even more earth-shaking clamor!

The ordinary soldiers in the distance, unaware of the truth, saw the fallen banner and immediately became mostly convinced.

This army had been cobbled together from dozens of tribes, held together solely by Yelü Boyang's prestige. Now that their ruler was dead, the alliance immediately fell apart!

"The Great Khan is dead! Run!"

"Back to our tribes! We can't be cannon fodder for the others!"

Countless cavalrymen began turning their horses and fleeing in all directions. The situation spiraled completely out of control.

"Bastards, your khan is still here!" Yelü Boyang was so furious he nearly spat blood, but his voice was quickly swallowed by the immense chaos.

He knew the tide had turned against him!

"Retreat. Fall back to Tong Commandery first and regroup," he snarled through gritted teeth, unwilling to accept defeat.

But just then, earth-shaking battle cries suddenly came from the direction of the capital in the distance!

The city gates stood wide open, and countless heavily armored Imperial Guards poured out like a black tide. Led by Tong Lei, they swept in to attack the steppe camp, now in complete disarray.

This was the secret order Chen Ye had given Tong Lei in his capacity as emperor before coming.

The fire was the signal, the outbreak of chaos the command!

Once they saw it, they were to send out the troops immediately.

Yelü Boyang felt the world spin around him. The numb itch from his shoulder had already spread through half his body, making it immensely difficult even to raise his arm.

He knew in his heart that this was a moment of life and death. He could only retreat in disgrace under the protection of his personal guards.

Amid the chaos, a personal guard with a blood-smeared face silently drew near and caught his swaying body. "Great Khan, I'll protect you and fight our way out!" he said urgently.

Yelü Boyang felt somewhat reassured at his words.

But the next second, the back of his neck went suddenly cold.

A short blade stabbed precisely and mercilessly into his cervical spine.

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