Chapter 81: Contest of Wills (XV)

The stables for over a thousand horses of the Qianyuet Division stood silently in the night. This was a vast area set aside within the camp, occupying nearly half of the entire grounds. All the stables were constructed from freshly felled timber, and the straw bedding was purchased directly from Cloud City, replaced every two or three days. Each stable had a roof covered with fresh straw to shield the horses from rain.

Every day, members of the tribe cleaned and tidied up, making the stables appear even neater and cleaner than the already worn royal tents.

For the nomads of the steppe, horses were the foundation of life. Especially the warhorses that rode into battle—no effort was spared in their care. Warhorses were delicate creatures; their resting places and drinking water had to be pristine, and they required the finest feed to maintain their strength. Moreover, warhorses were never tethered together at the same trough, for their fiery tempers would inevitably lead to biting and kicking among them if kept too close.

All these factors contributed to the creation of this sprawling stable. With limited personnel patrolling the outer perimeter, guarding the stockade walls and royal tents, it was impossible to maintain strict security here as well.

Ordinarily, housing so many warhorses would necessitate a series of separate camps, allowing for dispersal and mutual support, forming a tight defensive system suitable for stationing troops. However, the Qianyuet Division, now in the lands of Cloud, could not expect the Hengan Eagle Command to allow them—no matter the tacit tolerance for various reasons—to establish a fully fortified military camp.

Thus, they could only set up a large but thinly defended camp, cramming hundreds of warhorses within. From a defensive perspective, the vulnerabilities were glaring. Yet since the Hengan Eagle Command would never truly turn against the Qianyuet Division, these flaws were of little consequence.

Xu Le had discerned at a glance during the day that the Qianyuet camp was vast but weak, which led him to resolve to infiltrate the camp under cover of darkness to rescue Luo Dun.

Within the sprawling stables, only a few grooms wandered lazily, occasionally adding water and feed to the troughs. More than a dozen others slept deeply atop haystacks.

Hundreds of glossy warhorses stood tethered at the troughs, some sleeping on their feet, others munching on their night feed. The feed was mixed with beans, and the air was filled with a chorus of soft, crisp chewing sounds.

It was late autumn; the horses were reaching the end of their fattening season. These warhorses had been raised with the utmost care by the Qianyuet Division. If they were willing to sell them, they would fetch a fortune. But the steppe tribes always sold only their second- and third-rate horses to the Central Plains, keeping the finest for their own use in battle.

Under the slanting moonlight, the shadows of Xu Le and Bu Li slipped silently into the stables. Some of the warhorses raised their heads to glance at them, snorted softly, and went back to their feed.

A groom walked before them, moving lazily and yawning frequently. Although it was his shift, everyone knew the latter half of the night was harder, and this was when fatigue was greatest—especially after the stress and bloodshed of the previous day.

The groom carried a saber at his waist, the scabbard and hook clinking softly. He held a feed bag, from which he occasionally scooped a handful of beans to add to the troughs.

He seemed completely unaware of Xu Le and Bu Li following behind, shuffling all the way to the heart of the stables.

At the very center stood a separate stall, where a magnificent white horse was tethered at the trough. The horse stood five feet at the shoulder, with a narrow waist and long legs, its muscles clearly defined, its mane neatly trimmed. There was a kingly bearing to its every movement—truly a steed among steeds.

This was Heiguo's mount, only three years old but hailed as a rare treasure by herders since birth. It had been raised with the utmost care and trained by the best horsemasters. With its long legs and great stamina, it feared nothing on the battlefield. Even on the steppe, it deserved to be called a dragon steed.

Yet Heiguo, short and heavyset, could barely ride this white steed except for grand ceremonies; at all other times, he preferred a docile mare. The white steed, proud by nature, showed little affection for Heiguo and seemed to disdain its chosen master even more.

After these events, Heiguo had already decided to gift the dragon steed to a Turkic noble; both Zhibilolu and Zhibisili had expressed their admiration for it.

As the groom approached, the steed raised its head warily. From the bottom of the feed bag, the groom produced several boiled eggs bought from Cloud City. After a moment’s hesitation, he set one aside for himself and tossed the rest into the trough. The white horse paused, then lowered its head to eat.

The groom chuckled, “You’re royalty, you are! Bought hundreds of eggs this time—enough to keep you in treats until you’re sent to the Turks! I’m lucky to share in a bit of your fortune.” As he spoke, he popped the reserved egg into his mouth, swallowing after barely chewing. The late-night watch was tiring, and this small snack was a minor consolation. He needed water to rinse his mouth, lest others notice his little theft.

As he looked around for water, a shadow suddenly darted behind him, delivering a swift chop to his throat. The groom clutched his neck, gasping soundlessly, his face reddening as he slowly collapsed.

Immediately after, a slight figure dashed forward; in the moonlight, a dagger flashed cold and bright, slicing across his throat.

Blood sprayed, staining the surrounding hay. The groom crumpled, unmoving.

It was Xu Le who had struck the blow to the throat, and Bu Li who had delivered the fatal cut.

In the moonlight, Xu Le glanced at Bu Li. The little she-wolf still looked delicate and frail, but in the act of killing, she was utterly decisive.

On the field of battle, Xu Le’s hand was equally swift and ruthless. He had only intended to knock the groom out, knowing the camp would soon be in chaos anyway. But Bu Li was even more resolute.

Still, the man was dead, and that was that. Xu Le was no hypocrite; since leaving Shenwu, his hands had been stained with more than a few lives—and in the foreseeable future, there would be more bloodshed yet.

In these chaotic times, anyone striving to survive could not escape such fate.

With the groom down, the scent of blood spread, and the warhorses grew restless. Xu Le took the saber from the groom and gave Bu Li a slight nod.

Bu Li nodded in return, produced a flint and steel from her clothes, and melted into the darkness to start a fire. This little she-wolf, whether by talent or experience, was as deft at arson as at killing.

Xu Le drew his saber and vaulted into the stall with the white steed. The horse raised its head, snorting and pawing the ground in alarm.

Xu Gan’s red steed was already a fine animal, but compared to this white one, it was still lacking. And what man of the frontier could not love a horse? Xu Le’s eyes gleamed as he gazed at the steed, yet he held back for a moment, simply locking eyes with it.

The restlessness among the horses grew, neighs and whinnies echoing louder. The grooms, startled, rushed about trying to calm them; those sleeping on the haystacks leapt up, rubbing their eyes and cursing. At that moment, sparks appeared—one, then another, until five or six fires flickered to life.

The shrill cries of panicked warhorses rose as the fires began to move frantically about the stables.

Bu Li had not set the haystacks alight but had instead ignited the horses’ tails, loosening their tethers so they rampaged wildly through the stables.

The agonized screams of the horses tore through the night, finally rousing the entire Qianyuet camp.

With a sudden leap, Xu Le mounted the white steed before it could react, slashed through the reins with his saber. The horse reared, trying to throw him off. Xu Le struck it sharply between the ears, forcing its head down, then yanked the reins and pointed his saber toward the royal tent, striking the horse’s flank.

“Come, let’s stir things up!”

The white steed’s neigh rang out like a dragon’s roar. It leapt from the stable and charged straight toward the royal tent!