Chapter Sixty-Six: The Alliance (Part Twenty)

Inside the royal tent of the Qianyue Tribe, over a thousand strong, Zhibi Luoluo and Zhibi Sili sat at the place of honor, each wearing a markedly different expression. Beside them sat Gaida Wutou, his face etched with bitterness.

Below them were the noblemen of various clans, all under duress, their expressions uneasy and peculiar. Behind each sat two Qianyue warriors, watching their every move with vigilance.

Luo Dun was among these nobles, but his treatment was the most severe—besides the Qianyue warriors before and behind him, members of the Turkic Blue Wolf Cavalry also stood guard, leaving him no room for escape.

Light streamed into the tent through slits in the hide, casting twisted, mottled shadows on the ground. Luo Dun’s gaze was fixed on those shifting patterns, not sparing a glance at the wolfish guards at his side.

A tense and strange atmosphere filled the tent; everyone waited for Gaida Heiguo’s return.

The bloodshed in the Qianyue encampment had long subsided, leaving only the lingering scent of blood. Yet Lie Lie, who had pursued the retreating Buli, had not returned, nor had Heiguo, who had restored order in the camp as per his prepared command. The sound of the Qianyue cavalry departing had been heard by all, but no one dared to ask questions.

From time to time, nervous Qianyue riders came into the tent, whispering reports into Wutou’s ear. Though he sat motionless, his aged, bitter countenance unchanged, the worry in his eyes grew deeper with every message.

After each report, Wutou would lean toward Zhibi Sili and Zhibi Luoluo, murmuring a few words to them. Zhibi Luoluo, seasoned and shrewd, remained composed. Zhibi Sili, however, looked perpetually shocked, his gaze frequently straying toward the outside as if longing for some spectacle.

Another Qianyue rider rushed in and whispered something to Wutou. His frown eased slightly, and he waved the man away.

After a moment’s thought, he spoke slowly: “Luo Dun, this Xu Le you spoke of—he’s the grandson of old Xu Gan, isn’t he?”

Luo Dun finally raised his head, shooting his old friend a cold glance. “And what if he is? Old Xu Gan was blessed—he raised a fine grandson. Unlike me, who has no heirs and even mistook a traitor for family. As for Heiguo, I doubt he’ll amount to much either!”

Wutou was unfazed, replying softly, “It was him who caused that uproar in Yunzhong the other day, wasn’t it?... You’re right, none of us were as fortunate as old Xu Gan. It’s been many years since we last saw him…”

Luo Dun interrupted him brusquely, “What’s the point of this talk? If old Xu Gan saw what you’ve become, he’d run you through with a spear!”

Wutou only shook his head and sighed, not angered by the words. “That Xu Le is truly capable… The three of them broke through dozens; Lie Lie couldn’t stop them, and they rescued your little wolf-girl. Heiguo led over a hundred of our bravest against him and only managed to drive him back with a rain of arrows. Xu Le then lured Heiguo to the camp of the Heng’an Eagle Riders, who came to the rescue and killed or wounded many of our men…”

A murmur swept the tent. The previously downcast nobles now looked up. Zhibi Sili’s face darkened at last, and a few Blue Wolf riders placed hands on their weapons, as if ready to lead their wards away from this peril.

But Zhibi Luoluo remained unmoved, his face as dark and cold as ever.

Wutou raised a hand, signaling for calm. “But then Yuan Junzhang arrived, halted the Heng’an heavy cavalry, and let Heiguo return. They captured Xu Gan’s grandson and took him to Yunzhong City... Luo Dun, Liu Wuzhou wouldn’t dare offend the Turks—he’s already showing goodwill. Why should our Nine Surnames Tribes oppose the Turks any further? The Sui Dynasty is on the verge of collapse. Even old Xu Gan’s ideals were mistaken. You’ve already lost your son—why sacrifice yourself as well?”

A heavy silence fell. Zhibi Sili settled down, and the gathered nobles of the Nine Surnames sat in silence.

Some among them had hoped that, in the midst of today’s turmoil, Liu Wuzhou and the Heng’an Eagle Riders might suddenly intervene and rescue them. For serving the Turks was a bitter fate, and they still clung to the fading prestige of the Sui, hoping that the empire could yet resist the Turks, and that their own clans might survive in the balance of powers.

But these hopes faded to nothing with Wutou’s weary, aged words.

Suddenly, a clamor of footsteps—Gaida Heiguo and Lie Lie entered with their men, Heiguo pale and shaken, Lie Lie filthy and bloodstained.

Their return confirmed Wutou’s story. All the Nine Surnames nobles, save Luo Dun, hung their heads. Only old Luo Dun still held his graying head high, refusing to show weakness.

Heiguo and Lie Lie saluted the three leaders. Wutou waved them off wearily.

Heiguo turned to the assembly and declared loudly, “The trouble within the camp has been quelled. Now, let us proceed outside…”

Zhibi Luoluo abruptly stood and cut him off. The chilling, somber Turkic leader of the Zhibi, when he spoke, his voice was as harsh as a screech owl’s, cutting straight to the bone.

“Why go outside? Let’s swear our blood oath here and now. From this day forward, serve the Zhibi as your overlords. So long as you obey, benefits will be yours! In the future, Yunzhong City itself may become your pasture!”

Heiguo had already prepared a grand ritual outside, with a blue ox and a white horse, hoping the Nine Surnames’ alliance would be formal and impressive, raising his tribe’s standing in the eyes of the Zhibi. But now, disheveled and returned in disgrace, his own weak and opportunistic nature left him no courage to object to the infamous Zhibi Luoluo.

So Heiguo bowed. “As you command, my lord. Let the blood oath be sworn here.”

At his command, a massive wine bowl was brought forth. Heiguo stared into the murky liquor, then drew his blade, slicing open his own hand and letting blood drip into the bowl, turning the wine crimson.

More bowls were brought to the nobles of the Nine Surnames. Straight swords were thrust before them. Dazed and defeated, they rose, cut their hands, and let their blood fall in.

A sword was thrust before Luo Dun. He snorted and patted his neck. “Cut here if you mean to!”

Lie Lie, battered and grim, walked over, cut his own palm, and let blood drip before taking a bowl and standing by Heiguo’s side.

Heiguo glanced at Zhibi Luoluo and Zhibi Sili, gritted his teeth, and lifted the bowl high. “From this day, the Nine Surnames Tribes are united as one! We march beneath the Turkic Wolf Banner!”

With that, he and Lie Lie drained their bowls, and the nobles, faces twisted in reluctance, followed suit.

Amid the gleam of unsheathed swords and the mournful, chaotic atmosphere, as the stench of blood drifted in from outside, the much-hoped-for alliance of the Nine Surnames ended in this dismal fashion.

Luo Dun looked over at Gaida Wutou, only to see Wutou close his eyes at that very moment.

Zhibi Sili, meanwhile, simply yawned, looking utterly bored and indifferent.