Chapter 951

Whoosh…

The sudden downpour sent everything into a flurry of activity.

Birds folded their wings and hurried into the grass. Beasts that had been prowling for food settled inside caves far from human footsteps.

Anything to keep warm beneath the heavy rain that fell without pause.

But the animals that inhabited this vast stretch of grassland would soon realize something: for once, the rain they had never welcomed had saved them from an unseen danger.

Rumble. Rrrumble.

A sudden vibration.

The earth shook. No—it felt as though the entire grassland was trembling.

Hidden in their shelters, the animals instinctively bristled. With the senses they had been born with—their noses, their ears, their eyes—they detected what was coming.

Beyond the rain, so dense they could barely see an inch ahead, countless riders crossed their land.

Splash! Thududududu!

Mud sprayed in every direction. Hooves trampled through puddles of standing water as the horses charged forcefully onward.

At the head of the enormous, seemingly endless column, two men stood out.

“It doesn’t look like it’s going to let up.”

The lean man muttered as he gazed at the sky, then turned to the hulking man riding beside him.

“Temur.”

At the sudden call, Temur flinched.

“Y-yes?”

“We should pick up the pace. If we delay, the whole area will turn into a quagmire.”

“Yes. I suppose so.”

Temur nodded, his voice hoarse. The lean man frowned.

“And?”

“Hm?”

“Is that all?”

“Oh.”

Temur blinked, then realized his mistake. He beckoned, and dozens of cavalrymen armed with bows and lances came galloping over. They bowed their heads.

“What is it, Khan Temur?”

“Tell every commander of a thousand under me: no rest until the rain stops. We move at full speed.”

Temur did his best to sound stern. With a sidelong glance at the lean man, he added, “Anyone who neglects this order will be severely punished in my name and that of Khan Chinggen here.”

“Yes, sir!”

The cavalrymen saluted and scattered in every direction.

Only then did the furrow between Chinggen’s brows ease.

“Good. That’s how it should be. Well done.”

Temur swallowed dryly and nodded.

“Thanks for the praise.”

“Now it’s time for you to do your part as a khan. I can’t stand beside you and give you every little piece of advice forever, can I? Right, my proud brother?”

Tap.

Chinggen patted his armor. Temur gave a start.

“You must be cold. Are you all right?”

“…Of course. Nothing’s wrong.”

“No. I know what’s in your heart better than anyone, brother.”

Chinggen let out a quiet sigh, then suddenly clenched his teeth.

“Those filthy, despicable bastards. Every one I capture, I’ll tear to pieces and throw to the eagles.”

Chinggen’s voice rang through the rain. The nomads racing silently around them, their eyes fixed ahead, flashed killing intent in their eyes beneath their helmets.

Everyone on the grasslands knew of the massacre that had taken place that day.

Temur and Chinggen.

The two young khans had seized the eastern grasslands in a single stroke, bringing peace and prosperity. Each had brought a hundred trusted retainers to their meeting.

Neither had dreamed that the ger¹ filled with laughter would soon be stained with blood.

“Who could have known those damned Han Chinese were plotting something so terrible?”

The uninvited guests, several hundred strong, had been Han Chinese from the Central Plains—people known as Murim martial artists.

They had burst in at the height of the feast and swung their weapons at anyone in reach.

By the grace of heaven, the two khans had survived. But after a fierce battle, most of their retainers lay in pools of blood.

“My dear brother. If Tengri hadn’t watched over us, the eastern grasslands would have been torn apart in an instant and fallen into the hands of those Han Chinese.”

Chinggen gripped his reins until his knuckles turned white.

“It’s obvious what they were after. They must have judged that we’d become a threat, with each of us commanding a powerful force. At last, they’ve shown the ambition they’d kept hidden.”

At the cold look in Chinggen’s eyes, Temur answered in a voice rough as iron.

“I—I think so too.”

“It wasn’t just us. Everyone on this land was being used by them from the very beginning. Those despicable bastards were planning to seize the entire grassland all along.”

The nomads listening to Chinggen’s seething voice nodded as one.

He was right. The Han Chinese had always been like that.

Since time immemorial, they had called the nomads barbarians, scorned them, and considered them worth less than beasts.

Even after their great ancestors had trampled the Central Plains beneath countless hooves and built a vast empire, that had not changed.

No—their contempt had become hatred.

All because a mere band of barbarians had sullied the history of the continent.

But human beings were creatures of forgetfulness.

As the years passed and their ancestors’ achievements faded from memory, the nomads began to want something new.

Peace instead of conquest.

Gold and silver instead of horse manure.

Perhaps that was why everyone had welcomed Temur and Chinggen with open arms when the two promising young men of the Golden Clan joined forces with the Han Chinese.

“It was my mistake.”

Chinggen lamented as the rain poured down on him.

“I should have thought more deeply about what kind of people they were and why they’d agreed to work with us. Noble warriors of the grasslands died because their leader was ignorant and foolish.”

At the sight of his grief and regret, everyone lowered their heads.

Then a calm, powerful voice spoke.

“If you correct that mistake, the warriors of the grasslands will be welcomed into Tengri’s embrace.”

Chinggen’s eyes widened at the sight of a middle-aged man with the distinctive braided hairstyle of the nomads.

“Why is Khan Jamukha here? You should be in the rear…”

“Greetings, Khan Jamukha!”

Cries rose all around them, beginning with Chinggen.

The middle-aged man, Jamukha, swept his gaze over the riders. There was a force in his eyes that none of them could resist.

“It was dull staying in the rear. I thought this old man might be of some help, so I came to see.”

His sideburns were as black as night, and his imposing build was sturdier than that of a young man in his prime.

But that was only how he looked. Jamukha was well over eighty years old.

He was the greatest warrior on the grasslands, another khan who had ruled the western grasslands for many years. He had joined the army with more than twenty thousand tribespeople, and in practice, he led this immense force.

“Old man? Who would dare think that of you? Isn’t that right, Temur?”

Temur gazed at Jamukha with trembling eyes, then hurriedly nodded.

“Y-yes.”

“Khan Jamukha is our elder in the Golden Clan, a great warrior and a khan. We’re grateful that you entrusted us with the vanguard.”

Chinggen raised his voice so everyone around them could hear.

“Those foolish Han Chinese probably never knew how strong Khan Jamukha was—not even as they were dying.”

Chinggen needn’t have said a word. The eyes fixed on Jamukha were already full of admiration and reverence.

Jamukha, the greatest warrior on the grasslands.

According to the story, several hundred Han Chinese had attacked him before they attacked Temur and Chinggen.

He had only a dozen or so personal guards with him.

But the outcome had been staggering.

Jamukha had proved his prowess beyond doubt.

With a mere handful of guards—barely a match for the enemy numbers—he had fought a battle against the Han Chinese that was little short of a massacre.

In the end, the Han Chinese plot against the western grasslands had failed. Enraged, Jamukha had led his tribes toward the Central Plains.

Just as he was doing now.

“It was nothing. My men were simply skilled.”

Jamukha answered calmly and jerked his chin over his shoulder. His personal guards, clad in dark armor, galloped after him with expressionless faces.

They were the elite warriors created by the great conqueror who had laid the foundations of the nomadic empire in the distant past.

Known as the Keshik, they still followed Jamukha as remnants of the Golden Clan.

Each was as strong as a warrior who represented an entire tribe.

And there were a thousand of them.

The grassland army numbered tens of thousands. Its confidence in victory was not based on hope alone.

“From here on, some of my personal guards will take the vanguard.”

“The Keshik…?”

“Yes. Is there a problem?”

Chinggen fell silent for a moment at Jamukha’s unexpected words, then shook his head.

“Of course not. We would have asked you ourselves. Isn’t that right, Temur?”

“…That’s right. I agree.”

The strongest warriors would lead the charge.

It was a natural decision, and everyone accepted it.

Everyone but one person.

Are you sure that’s wise?

At the sudden Sound Transmission in his ear, Jamukha’s lips moved.

Didn’t you just say you would have asked me yourself?

That was…

I won’t change my mind. We’ll put those children in the vanguard and cross the border in the shortest time possible.

There could be a trap. The place is crawling with fodder to take arrows for us. Why waste precious forces?

What trap? Fire King and Jin Taekyung, who won’t reach Shanxi Province for several days? Or those insignificant Shanxi fools?

Jamukha answered bluntly and stared straight at the source of the Sound Transmission.

Keep that idiot beside you under control. I’m beginning to regret not killing him back then.

I told you we should have kept the smarter one alive instead.

Chinggen—or someone wearing his face—let out a chuckle too faint for anyone to notice and ran a hand over his features.

He was impressive in his own way. Even while his men were dying all around him, he tried to negotiate.

He remembered it clearly.

Beside Temur, who had yielded to the overwhelming difference in strength and even wet himself, Chinggen had stood firm and told them to name what they wanted.

Compared to that dead man, this idiot…

I kept him alive because he’s an idiot. Someone who’s surrendered deep in his heart is that much easier to handle.

I’ll grant you that. Thanks to his cooperation, far more barbarians gathered than I expected.

His amused gaze swept across the vast army filling the grasslands.

Only a little more than a day’s travel remained.

When the rain stopped, they would cross the grasslands and go over the walls.