Chapter Thirty-Eight: Gaida Surpasses a Thousand Miles

At the heart of the crossroads in Cloud City stood a Drum Tower, rising to a height of nearly forty feet. Whenever the city faced the prospect of battle, the commanding general would ascend the tower to survey the enemy’s movements, directing the city’s troops with flags by day and lanterns by night.

In times of peace, the Drum Tower served a different purpose—a watch drum was installed to mark the passage of time.

This was not unique to Cloud City; in fact, nearly every city of the Sui Empire boasted such a tower. In the largest cities, there could be a dozen or more.

Now, as the drum sounded twice in succession, it signaled the second watch of the night and the beginning of the city’s curfew.

On ordinary days, Cloud City—an outpost facing the threat of the Turks—would shut its gates and begin street patrols as soon as dusk fell, long before the second watch. Soldiers would man the walls, ambushes and sentries would be set outside the city, barricades would be drawn across every street, and vigilance would reign throughout the city.

But the autumn market was underway, and the desperate Heng’an Eagle Commandery had been forced to relax its customary precautions. The curfew did not begin until the second watch, lest the city’s merchants, deprived of business, march in protest to Liu Wu Zhou’s command post. The prosperity of the merchants brought more tax revenue to the Commandery, and so they gritted their teeth and shouldered the risk.

As the drum echoed, crowds spilled from taverns and brothels.

Luo Dun strode out as well; despite having consumed half a lamb and a jar of wine, the old man’s face remained unchanged, his stride as vigorous as ever.

Xu Le followed behind Luo Dun, with Han Yue and the others shielded by Liang Hai’s men. As soon as they exited, Xu Le pulled his hood over his face.

On both sides of the street stood squads of Heng’an soldiers, shields raised before them, weapons within easy reach. Xu Le glanced up and caught the glint of arrowheads reflecting the dim light of the stars and moon from the rooftops above—Eagle soldiers with bows and crossbows lurked there as well.

With such tight security, even the most inebriated hurried along, not daring to speak or act rashly.

The inner stockade gates were shut, and the sentries stationed there were even more alert; archers stood openly at the entrances, ready to turn any would-be intruder into a pincushion in an instant.

Beyond the stockade lay the city gate, guarded even more heavily, with soldiers above and below. Xu Le even spotted Yuan Junwei pacing the city wall, watchful and wary.

Xu Le hastily averted his gaze, pulling his hood lower. If Yuan Junwei, in his hot-blooded zeal, decided to make trouble and accused him of trying to seize the gate, Xu Le would have no choice but a desperate dash for his life.

With so many lively happenings at the autumn market, how could he miss the chance to see it all firsthand? To come this far and not be a part of it would be a waste.

Though Luo Dun had spoken in vague and halting terms, Xu Le understood well enough.

It was simple: the Nine Clans of the Tatars had suffered enough under Turkic oppression, and now, taking advantage of the autumn market, sought to unite and rely on Sui power to resist the Turks—if not to break free, then at least to force the Turks to show some restraint and reduce their extortion.

Last year’s alliance between the Mayi and Hedong soldiers had repelled the Turks and given the Tatars a surge of courage. The Sui, though weakened, still possessed considerable strength.

Luo Dun was one of the initiators of this secret meeting. Though he spoke with apparent confidence, Xu Le could hear the worry behind the words—the fear that Turkic agents might slip in and sabotage their efforts.

With the Turks involved, how could Xu Le not be interested? Living in Mayi, how could he not feel enmity for the raiders who invaded time and again? Since the Han and Tang, the greatest glory for a man was won on the frontier, amidst the blood of the barbarians.

Compared to earning fame by fighting dozens of Eagle soldiers in Cloud City, such feats were like fireflies before the full moon!

Liu Wu Zhou had made his name by holding Cloud City against the Turkic horde; even as the Turks surged south, Cloud City stood firm. Harassed from the rear, the Turks were forced to press on, giving the allied forces of Wang Ren Gong and Li Yuan the upper hand. When the Turks began to retreat, Liu Wu Zhou struck decisively and reaped the greatest rewards.

Thus, Liu Wu Zhou secured his post as Chief Commander at Heng’an Eagle Commandery. The heroes of Mayi pledged their loyalty, enabling him to contend with Wang Ren Gong and become a true player in these turbulent times—a man even Xu Le’s grandfather admired.

Such experience would only make Xu Le stronger and help fulfill his grandfather’s unfulfilled wishes!

That was why Xu Le had no interest in crossing swords with Yuan Junwei.

Beyond the city gate, low hills stretched into the distance, sheltering Cloud City in the basin below. Military outposts dotted the hills, their lanterns flickering as signals were sent down to the city walls, reporting all clear from the steppe tribes camped outside.

Between the hills and the city walls lay a vast, treeless plain, its woods cut down—here, the steppe tribes had set up their camps for the autumn market. Over a dozen watchtowers had been erected, keeping a close eye on the tribes’ every move.

If trouble arose, arrows would rain down from the walls and the hill outposts, and the city’s armored cavalry could charge forth to sweep the camps.

Beyond the encampment, squads of cavalry patrolled, their armor scarred from battle. Each rider wore an iron mask, their breath steaming in the chill night—like ghosts in the darkness, a sight as if an army marched straight from the fields of carnage.

Despite the relaxation of the curfew for the autumn market, the Eagle soldiers maintained the city’s security to the utmost, their vigilance in the autumn night winds a testament to the army’s hardened discipline. Even Xu Le, with all his hard-earned skills, was no more than their equal in the face of such elite troops.

During his brawl in Cloud City, Xu Le had fought dozens of Eagle soldiers to a standstill; yet, in the end, those soldiers had not showered him with arrows but merely engaged in close combat, with Yuan Junwei alone firing a sneak attack. That was why Xu Le had risked everything to charge into the city—to appeal to Liu Wu Zhou before the eyes of the townsfolk, to force the authorities to restrain themselves from using military force and settle for a brawl instead. Their aim was not to kill but to capture him—thus allowing Xu Le to make his name.

Had they formed a shield wall and unleashed a rain of arrows, how long could Xu Le, unarmored, have lasted?

Liu Wu Zhou, commanding such a powerful force, was indeed one of the true players in this chaotic era, his unassuming appearance belying his strength.

After they had left the city, Luo Dun walked in silence for a long while, watching the formidable troops, before turning to Xu Le and saying in a low voice, “With an army like this, the Turks will not dare act recklessly. Our Nine Clans can handle what comes. Old Xu dares to rest easy at home, but you, his only grandson, must not come to any harm... You may have some skill and a bold heart, and if you want to linger here a few more days, so be it. But do not meddle in the affairs of our clans. Once Han Chinese get involved, nothing can be explained clearly!”

Xu Le listened in silence. Luo Dun’s warning was as plain as could be. With such strength stationed here, would the Turks really dare to send a large force? If only a few came, the Nine Clans could deal with them themselves. Using the autumn market as cover for their meeting seemed the safest course. If Xu Le, a Han, were to be drawn in, things would become much more complicated.

But was it really as Luo Dun said, all safely under control?

Xu Le shook his head slightly, as if to dispel his vague worries for his elder. He smiled, “How could I disobey, Uncle Luo? I’ll just spend a few days here and see if I can recover our lost goods.”

Luo Dun cast him a suspicious glance but said nothing more.

Meanwhile, in the encampment of the steppe tribes, two Turkic nobles observed the tight security maintained by the Eagle soldiers, their faces growing grim.

A dozen personal guards stood nearby, alert to any sign of trouble.

Above their tent, a tall wooden pole displayed a flag adorned with red horsehair—a banner marking the camp of Gaidach, the largest of the Nine Clans, numbering over a thousand souls.