Chapter 23: Madness and Malady?

“Aren’t you afraid that I could turn my army around right now and attack your other territories, slaughtering everyone just as you have done?”

At these words from Jieli, Li Shimin and his companions all furrowed their brows. Cai Cong’s methods had already crossed everyone’s bottom line, and Jieli, naturally, would show no mercy in return.

“Turn around? The moment you dare utter a word of refusal, every soldier and horse in Chang’an will ride to battle and fight to the death without retreat. Are you prepared in your heart for such a desperate struggle? Warriors of the Great Tang, are you willing to die wrapped in horsehide?”

From within the carriage came a frenzied voice, like a gambler staking everything in one mad throw.

“To die in horsehide! To die in horsehide!”

Amidst the thunderous cries of the soldiers, Jieli saw the terror in Li Shimin’s eyes, then glanced at the fervent gazes of the officers around him. He realized he might have provoked a madman.

“Come on, then! Let’s go to war! As long as five thousand of Chang’an’s army stand guard, we can hold out until our reinforcements arrive. And what if you slaughter all the people outside the city? Do you not know there are more Tang people than yours, and we have cities. Go ahead, lay siege! Let’s see if you’re prepared for your entire nation to be annihilated. I’ll ask you one last time—will you hand over those tens of thousands of people? If you do, everything can be resolved. If not, then we’ll all perish together. I have nothing to lose, ha ha ha...”

The voice from the carriage was twisted and maniacal, but Jieli was shaking with rage. “All this, just for thirty thousand people? You would risk the deaths of hundreds of thousands, even millions from both nations?”

“I am the emissary of the gods in the Great Tang. My every word and deed is the will of the divine. I care not for how many live or die, but the decree of the gods must not be defied. This is your final chance: release them, or kill them all?”

Suddenly, the laughter from the carriage ceased, replaced by a voice as cold and unfeeling as a glacier, disregarding all life.

“You—”

“Your time is running out. Hand over the people, and I will immediately dispatch a second envoy to rescind the order for the massacre. But know this: our armies have been instructed to wait only four days. If you delay beyond that, even if you send a messenger, they may not be able to catch up with the army.”

“Great Khan, let’s agree for now. Whether true or false, once he sends his troops away, we can simply turn against them. What can they do? When the time comes, we’ll storm their cities, slaughter everyone, and seize everything.”

A strategist at Jieli’s side muttered quietly, and Jieli, delighted, nodded repeatedly.

“Fine, you win. I, the Great Khan, agree. Men, bring those slaves and return them to the Tang.”

“I fear Jieli is not sincere. This plan is too reckless—Your Majesty should not have agreed to let Cai Cong act this way. Even if Cai Cong pretends to send his men, what if Jieli betrays us? What then?”

Fang Xuanling sighed, finding this insane scheme not only a breach of their principles but also extremely naive. He knew that Chuluo was garrisoned by Cheng Yaojin, but what could that change? By now, Cheng Yaojin was probably already on his way to aid the king.

The others remained silent, their faces full of worry. Only Li Ji kept glancing at the carriage, an ill premonition growing in his heart. Li Shimin, meanwhile, stared ahead expressionlessly. Having made his decision, he would not turn back.

Thirty thousand people were no small number. By the time the sun leaned west, they had all been released—each one battered and scarred, the women numb and hollow-eyed. If they had died, perhaps it would have been easier; now that they lived, how were they to face the world, to endure the rumors, and above all, how could they erase the agony of having been violated by beasts?

“We’ve released the people. Now you must keep your word and send men to stop the slaughter,” Jieli said brusquely. Despite Li Shimin’s hours of persuasion, emphasizing that war would benefit neither side, Jieli’s anger would not abate. Though he dared not begin a war, killing that so-called National Preceptor was a must.

“I forgot to mention, the team I dispatched will wait three days after delivering the message. Within those three days, you must withdraw your troops. If you do, I’ll send word to them again. If you attempt any tricks, don’t blame my twenty thousand troops for showing no mercy. Play your games with me, and you won’t even know how you died.”

Hearing this sly voice, Jieli’s face turned livid. He kicked his strategist aside in a fury and glared at Cai Cong’s convoy. At that moment, thirty men rode out from the convoy, each lightly equipped, leading three horses apiece—a feat demanding exceptional horsemanship.

“You may have won this time, but I, the Great Khan, will not forget this. The debt will be repaid.”

“I await your challenge at any time. If I were you, I wouldn’t waste words here. If you delay and your own people die, I won’t care.”

With that, the carriage turned and left, leaving the two armies staring at each other across the river. Soon, both sides sounded the retreat, and only the caravans delivering tribute and livestock worked through the night until dawn. By noon, the Turkic army had already set out on their return journey.

In any case, they had achieved their aim; the Tang had handed over what they wanted. Most were satisfied, though being threatened by a madman left them deeply disgruntled. Still, they were unafraid—for in their eyes, the Turkic cavalry was invincible. If the Tang dared act out, they would simply march on Chang’an for vengeance.

“Now that we have ample provisions, why don’t we double back and strike them again in a few days?” Jieli, astride his horse, was brimming with confidence.

“Absolutely not. Their National Preceptor is a lunatic, and besides, this time we only succeeded because the Tang emperor’s enthronement created instability. In the future, they’ll be on guard, and the casualties would be devastating.”

Tuli clearly anticipated Jieli’s thoughts and countered him without hesitation, leaving Jieli speechless. Monaitre watched their bickering with secret delight—the more they fought, the better. With weapons supplied by the Tang, he could surely grow stronger and eventually unite the grasslands.

“Nonsense! Against my Turkic cavalry, the Tang soldiers are nothing but a rabble. Even if we fought ten more times, they’d still be no match for us!” Jieli’s voice rose to a shout. Had he been spoken to more tactfully, he might have found a way out, but with such blunt opposition, he could not back down.

Tuli refused to argue further, his face darkening as he spurred his horse away—an omen of coming discord between the two.

On the walls of Chang’an, Li Shimin and his men watched the retreating Turks, their faces ashen, as though they had lost their dearest kin. All were men of valor! To witness villains commit such atrocities in their own land, forced to feign smiles and, after the invaders had sated themselves, even send them off with gifts—who could endure such humiliation?

“This enmity will not go unavenged, or I am no man!” Li Shimin bit out each word, drawing his sword to cut a lock of his hair. One’s body is a gift from one’s parents, not to be harmed lightly; by doing this, Li Shimin made clear the depth of his wrath.

“This enmity will not go unavenged, or I am no man!” The ramparts rang with cries of fury and grief as civil officials gashed their chests and military officers cut their hands—only pain and blood could sear this shame into their hearts and spur them to greater strength.

“Let us return. There is much yet to be done. We must carry this disgrace in our hearts, and one day, I shall trample the Turks beneath my feet!”

Indeed, there was much to do: resettling the refugees, lifting the state of alert, withdrawing the royal armies, solving the food shortage, and rebuilding the cities that had been sacked...