Chapter 17: The Scheme of Discord

“Hurry up and roast a lamb—this is a sacred beast sent by the heavens to deliver the precious jade to me, and must not be neglected!” Mengnaite Le shouted to one of his subordinates.

People—no matter their nation or race—are all the same when it comes to gossip. The news that Mengnaite Le had received a piece of heaven-sent jade spread through the Turkic encampment like a sandstorm.

Even Jieli, at the very heart of the camp, heard of it. When the news reached him, his expression didn’t flicker; he simply shoved the woman in his embrace to the ground and hacked her several times with his blade. Without even washing the blood from himself, he brooded in silence.

The next day, the leaders of each tribe convened to discuss the assault on Tang. All the chieftains, great and small, attended. Mengnaite Le arrived with the jade hanging from his neck. Whenever he caught someone’s gaze, he would lift the jade to the sunlight and pretend to admire it.

Soon, a crowd gathered around him, all envious, their words tinged with respect. Why had heaven not favored themselves or anyone else? Clearly, Mengnaite Le was beloved of the gods—otherwise, surely the khan himself would have received the jade.

But such thoughts remained unspoken; no one was fool enough to voice them aloud.

Jieli, as the chief among chiefs, was fashionably late. Upon arrival, he took his seat at the head of the gathering, and the others quickly found their places.

“Well, is everyone here?” Jieli asked, a smile on his lips, though it was a pointless question. Spotting the jade at Mengnaite Le’s neck, he immediately asked, his tone ambiguous, “I hear Mengnaite Le received a heaven-sent jade last night. Might I borrow it for a look?”

No sooner had he finished speaking than the bodyguard behind him strode to Mengnaite Le and held out both hands, ready to receive the jade with an air of such arrogance that many present were visibly irked.

“Of course, if the khan wishes to see it, I dare not refuse. But be careful! If you drop it, I’ll have your head.” Though Mengnaite Le was loath to comply, he forced a smile, removed the jade, and vented all his resentment on the hapless soldier.

“A fine piece—truly a treasure! Flawless, as only something from the gods could be. But such a treasure belongs with the worthy. Since you wish to present it to me, I shall accept. Come—Mengnaite Le has rendered meritorious service by offering this treasure; reward him with a thousand fat sheep and a hundred female slaves.”

“Khan, I—”

“I understand your intent. I’ll keep the jade. Originally, I planned for the Lida tribe to take the vanguard against Chang’an, but as you’ve done me this service, the honor falls to you. When Chang’an falls, your Altair tribe will have first pick of the spoils and slaves.”

Jieli cut him off without ceremony, and shifted the dangerous task of leading the vanguard upon him. To be first into battle against the likes of Wugong and Gaoyang had been a coveted role—but now, with Chang’an’s vast garrison and towering walls, the vanguard was all but a suicide squad.

Mengnaite Le wanted to refuse, but could not say the words. To admit fear would make the entire Altair tribe a laughingstock on the steppes; even his own warriors would no longer heed his command.

The deliberations dragged on till afternoon. Mengnaite Le emerged, face dark as thunder, fists clenched so tightly that his nails nearly pierced his palms. Not only had he lost the jade, but had been forced into the vanguard, while any other benefits were carved up among the rest. Jieli had neatly bought the silence of the other tribes, letting them watch the Altair tribe march to their doom.

“I’ll be damned! Jieli, one day I’ll kill you with my own hands!” Mengnaite Le growled in his tent, suppressing his rage. Not even daring to shout—like a wolf, biding its time before the kill.

Night passed. At dawn, a small black dog swaggered into Jieli’s tent, snatched the jade from the table, and marched straight toward Mengnaite Le’s camp—while Jieli still slept soundly.

No soldier dared interfere with such a bizarre sight, especially after hearing it was the dog of the gods. They could only watch as it sauntered off.

When Jieli awoke and learned what had happened, he beheaded sixteen guards in a fit of rage, then stormed off to confront Mengnaite Le. But Mengnaite Le insisted the gods had forbidden him to give away the treasure, and refused to surrender the jade.

Jieli, however, was not to be defied. He killed the black dog with a single stroke, snatched back the jade, and warned Mengnaite Le never to invoke the gods’ name to bolster his own prestige again—on pain of severe punishment.

Mengnaite Le trembled with fury but, cowed by Jieli’s murderous glare, could only bow his head and promise never to repeat such foolishness.

“If it happens again, not even the gods will save you from my wrath!” Jieli snarled. Were it not for the coming war, he’d have killed Mengnaite Le already. There was something uncanny about that dog.

That night, in Chang’an, a stooped elder of the Thieves’ Guild quietly reported to Cai Cong.

“So you say that besides Tuli, there’s another—the Altair tribe—also suffering under Jieli’s oppression?” Cai Cong smiled. This name had little significance in history; he supposed Jieli must have swallowed them up before long.

“Yes, sir. As we withdrew, Tuli Khan had already approached Mengnaite Le, presumably to form an alliance against Jieli Khan. Shall I send another dog—pretend it returned from the dead? They’re all siblings from the same mother; no one would know the difference.”

“No need,” said Cai Cong. “Jieli is a violent man. If another dog appears, he’ll simply kill Mengnaite Le and install a puppet over the Altair tribe. Then the Turks will have a single voice, and if Jieli refuses peace, there’ll be no one left to dissent.”

“I did not consider that. What should we do next, sir?” the elder asked, thoroughly convinced. In just three days they’d fanned the flames of discord between Jieli, Tuli, and Mengnaite Le—now it was obvious to all that their unity was fractured.

“You say Jieli’s sending an envoy to the emperor? Yesterday, in their council, he tasked his confidant, Zhishi Sili, to depart for Chang’an tomorrow to meet His Majesty.”

“What must come, must come.” Cai Cong smiled. In history, Jieli had indeed sent Zhishi Sili to probe the strength of Tang, only for Li Shimin to see through him and detain him. That detention sowed seeds of paranoia in Jieli, eventually pushing him to agree to peace.

“Deliver this letter to Tuli. It’s inevitable he’ll fall out with Jieli. Tell him that as long as he opposes the war, Great Tang will support him afterward with weapons and provisions. As for Mengnaite Le, tell him Tang will provide arms and, after the withdrawal, will aid them with weapons to resist Jieli—along with gold, silver, and gems.”

The elder hesitated. “Isn’t this too direct, sir? Such promises might reveal that Chang’an’s defenses are stretched thin—should they attack, the spoils would be far greater. Why would they...”

“If it were anyone else, they’d run straight to Jieli for favor. But these two know Jieli too well. Even if they did try to curry favor, Jieli would still send them to the vanguard. The Turks are ill-suited to storming cities; they’d never bear such losses just to let Jieli reap the rewards.

If they did report to Jieli and Chang’an fell, their own warriors would be nearly wiped out—leaving Jieli free to do as he liked with them. Do you think they’re that foolish?”

Cai Cong smiled. In two years, Tuli would be forced by Jieli to defect to Tang; their enmity was already irreconcilable. He’d never risk his own forces for Jieli’s gain.

“Then I’ll see to it at once,” the elder replied cheerfully. He was sure this deed would earn him at least three promotions—soon he’d be a man of rank.

“Go, then. And keep an eye on your falcon—if it gets shot down, the consequences will be dire.” Cai Cong waved him off, then sat alone in his chamber for a long while before instructing Meng Bao to wake him for the next day’s Court Assembly.