Chapter 80: The Contest of Power (XIV)

Luo Dun sat quietly in a solitary tent in the corner of the royal encampment. Among the nobles of the Nine Clans—whether the Turkic chiefs or the father and son, Blackfruit and Uthead—none entertained the idea of releasing him. The nobility of the Zhibi family intended to eradicate him completely, while Blackfruit and his father feared letting the tiger return to the mountain, lest their grand plan to unify the Nine Clans fail.

Transferring the prisoners elsewhere was out of the question. This was the land of Yunzhong, not their own pasture; keeping them within the royal camp was safest. The Eagle Commandery of Heng'an in Yunzhong turned a blind eye, and hundreds of elite warriors guarded the place—there should be no trouble.

Yet, for his old friend Luo Dun, Uthead granted sufficient privileges. Luo Dun resided alone in his tent, provided with a soft couch and cushions. Knowing Luo Dun relished fine food, they brought him the best delicacies, and as much wine as he desired. In his tent stood a jar of Han wine and two leather bags of mare’s milk.

But no matter how good the treatment, he remained a prisoner.

The food lay cold, untouched. Over the years, Luo Dun’s temperament had softened, indulging in comfort, but in moments of crisis, he was still the fierce chieftain of a decade past—who dared, with a small clan, to help Uthead and wage war against the powerful Turks.

When you are friends, nothing matters; everything can be overlooked. Even his own son, sent to the battlefield and lost, was cremated and his ashes returned to bury among his people. If you want the Nine Clans to unite, I will give my full support. Even if it costs my life, it is but a word.

But now you have betrayed me; you are an enemy. The enemy’s offerings—no matter the hunger—will never touch my lips.

Sitting there, Luo Dun’s thoughts dwelled most on the battle of ten years past.

In the third year of Ren Shou, Dato Khan of the Western Turks had already swallowed the lands of the Eastern Turks, poised to unify the old Turkic territories. At that time, the father of Shibi Khan, Qimin Khan, depended on the Sui Dynasty, barely surviving in the area around the Hetao.

At that juncture, Dato Khan’s tyrannical rule sparked widespread rebellion among the Eastern Turkic tribes. The Nine Clans seized the opportunity, rising in revolt against Dato Khan’s regime.

It was then that Old Xu Gan joined the fray. Initially regarded as just a skilled Han merchant, they hadn’t expected his prowess in commanding troops and facing the enemy—Xu Gan was a master of warfare.

With Xu Gan’s help, the Nine Clans repeatedly defeated Dato Khan’s armies, their fame spreading across the southern and northern Yin Mountains, on the brink of establishing themselves as a formidable power.

But then, Qimin Khan, backed by the Sui Dynasty, launched a counterattack. The Sui’s governor in Mayi coordinated from the center, urging the Nine Clans to support Qimin Khan. Xu Gan opposed it fiercely, but as a Han, he stood alone, and his objections were overruled.

The result: after defeating Dato Khan, Qimin Khan turned on them, dealing a heavy blow. The once-mighty coalition of the Nine Clans suffered a crushing defeat. Luo Dun’s beloved son died in battle, and Uthead’s grand ambitions vanished like smoke.

Xu Gan left in sorrow, retiring to Shenwu, dedicating himself to raising his beloved grandson. Luo Dun indulged himself with pleasures; Uthead’s ambitions utterly lost. After barely holding on for a decade in the shadow of the Yin Mountains, relying on the Sui, they finally, as the Sui weakened, chose to pledge themselves to the Turks.

The treacherous Qimin Khan’s power continued to swell. When he died and passed the throne to his son, Shibi Khan, he left behind a vast, formidable Turkic empire.

The Sui Dynasty, which had once vigorously supported Qimin Khan, now faded amid internal strife, nearly collapsing. Meanwhile, Shibi Khan was sending his major clans to seize Mayi and Yanmen, preparing to open the road south to the Central Plains.

Victory and defeat—such is the fate of kings and rebels.

A cold smile flickered on Luo Dun’s lips, then he shrugged indifferently. What else could he do? When he returned to his clan carrying his son’s ashes, burying him amid mournful songs, he had already died inside. These years, it was but a shell living on.

His only concern was the adopted little wolf-girl, Buli, but she had gone to seek Xu Le. Raised by Old Xu Gan, his grandson should be able to protect her.

Moonlight poured through the battered tent, casting Luo Dun’s figure like an ancient stone.

Footsteps sounded outside, and the tent flap was lifted. The tall, imposing Lie Lie entered, his hand resting on the hilt of his straight blade, silent as he walked in.

Luo Dun didn’t bother to lift his eyelids, completely disregarding Lie Lie’s presence.

Lie Lie stood, staring at Luo Dun, his face dark and brooding. He reeked of blood, and his eyes burned with a reckless madness.

Lie Lie always held himself in high regard, and among the Liang Haiter clan, indeed, none surpassed him.

While Luo Dun despaired and drowned himself in delicacies, Lie Lie refused to spend his life as a minor chieftain, living as a fox-hunter in the Yin Mountains.

The father of Shibi Khan, Qimin Khan, had risen from a few thousand battered tents in Hetao to leave his son with dominion over ten thousand miles, forty thousand archers, threatening the Sui Dynasty and poised to seize the Central Plains and establish a new empire.

Lie Lie believed that even if he could not match the achievements of Qimin Khan or Shibi Khan, at least he could become a great chieftain, bearing the wolf banner and claiming the title of Khan.

Thus, he chose to follow Blackfruit and pledge himself to the Turks.

Yet after the battle that day, Lie Lie realized that his vaunted skills were nothing before Xu Le. The nerves he thought were iron failed him utterly when Xu Le charged alone—his mind was emptied of everything but the urge to flee.

Though he survived by luck, his reputation was ruined. The warriors of the Qianyu Yuebu clan looked at him without the former respect. As the new chieftain of Liang Haiter, even the two Turkic nobles couldn’t be bothered to summon or console him.

Such a drastic fall left Lie Lie’s spirit nearly shattered within a day.

He rushed back to Liang Haiter, seized the clansmen closest to Luo Dun, and, without persuasion or a word, ordered them all executed.

Only madness could mask the terror in his heart.

After subduing his clan with blood, Lie Lie hurried back to serve as the chieftain of Liang Haiter, standing guard over the royal tent.

Now, there was no retreat. Only by convincing the Qianyu Yuebu and the Turks behind them that he was a loyal dog with value could he survive. His own meager power would not be swallowed up, and only then could he endure in this chaotic world.

As for the dream of bearing the wolf banner and claiming the title of Khan, in Lie Lie’s heart, it had vanished in a single day.

Blackfruit ordered him to kill Luo Dun, and Lie Lie obeyed without hesitation.

Luo Dun’s silent contempt stung Lie Lie as he entered the tent—he had come prepared to utter a few insincere words of necessity, but his eyelids twitched fiercely, and the mood for pretense vanished. He simply drew his straight blade from his waist.

The blade was cold as water, stained with blood—a mark from the clan member Lie Lie had executed earlier that day.

Lie Lie stepped forward, slowly approaching the upright, imperiled Luo Dun.

Luo Dun finally lifted his eyelids, but there was not a hint of pleading. He merely sneered, “It was this old fool who was blind!”