Fang Jie had completely lost track of how many days he had been imprisoned in the secret cell of the Imperial Guard. In such a place where day and night were indistinguishable, making time was incredibly difficult. Fortunately, however, he was no longer alone after Zhuo Buyi's visit and departure.
Qiu Yu came every day, perhaps out of remorse for the young man, or perhaps out of curiosity about his body, but whatever the reason, Fang Jie felt a deep respect for her. Professor Ning Yan had said that on the day Fang Jie was detained and imprisoned, Qiu Yu, in a fit of rage, smashed Dean Zhou's desk and demolished his house—something that required immense courage. Fang Jie was certain that very few people in the Martial Arts Academy would dare to do such a thing; perhaps only Professor Qiu.
Even a few words were a favor, let alone the brutal demolition of Dean Zhou's house.
Fang Jie had once asked Qiu Yu how it felt to smash Dean Zhou's desk and demolish his house. Just as Qiu Yu was about to leave and return to the Martial Arts Academy, the woman walked with her hands behind her back. She paused slightly at the door, then uttered a single word without turning her head.
"Awesome."
Therefore, Fang Jie was certain this woman was not to be trifled with.
When he had free time, he couldn't help but wonder how long he would be imprisoned. Being locked up like this, neither killed nor pardoned, was incredibly agonizing. Fortunately, Professor Ning Yan's words helped him understand many things, and he gradually calmed down. Although he couldn't yet enjoy himself, he managed to read calmly and cultivate diligently.
What he didn't know was that His Majesty the Emperor had actually forgotten about him during this time.
The war in the Northwest was on the verge of erupting. Hundreds of thousands of troops transferred from other provinces to the Northwest were already in place, and enough supplies to supply a million-strong army had arrived. In addition, the troops stationed in various provinces and the border troops, the number of forces gathered in Shandong Province now exceeded seven hundred thousand. At this point, there was no need to hide anything anymore.
And Fan Gu City became even more important.
Winter had already arrived in Chang'an, and the cold in Fangu was naturally even more unbearable. However, there were no distinct seasons here; instead, further west, deep into the Mongol Empire, the climate gradually warmed. It was said that the Golden Horde enjoyed a year-round spring-like climate, but no one in the Sui Dynasty had ever witnessed it.
Further west of Fangu, beyond the Wolf Milk Mountains, lay the territory of the Mandu Banner of the Mongol Empire. It was essentially the same as Fangu, except the wind seemed stronger. The Mandu Banner chief, Mandulatu, was a staunch advocate of war, consistently advocating for military action against the Sui Dynasty. The frictions between the Sui's northwestern border army and the Mongol border army in recent years were largely at Mandulatu's behest.
Across the Wolf Milk Mountains lay Niepan City, the easternmost border city of the Mongol Empire. Niepan City housed two thousand Mongol cavalry, commanded by Mandulang, a rising star of the Mandu family.
Mandulang was already aware that hundreds of thousands of Sui troops had gathered in Shandong Province. Upon receiving the news, he immediately dispatched men back to Yuntai City, the capital of Manduqi. Manduqi was one of the smaller of the Mongol banners, but it still covered several thousand li. Mandulatu had some blood relation to the Golden Family, and although it was extremely remote, this bloodline allowed him to legitimately consider himself a nobleman.
The Golden Family, which ruled the Mongol Yuan Dynasty, was named Koktai Mongol, meaning "winged wolf" in the Mongol language. The current Khan was named Koktai Mongke, commonly referred to as Mongke by the Sui people. The Golden Family had ruled this vast grassland for over a thousand years, starting with the coronation of the first Great Wheel King at the Great Snow Mountain, spanning several generations.
The Koktai Mongol family rose to power in the far west of the grasslands. It is said that a thousand years ago, the grasslands were ruled by a dark demon, forcing the herders to offer human sacrifices and nearly all their cattle and sheep annually, leading to widespread suffering. Later, when the messenger of the dark demon arrived in the territory of the Koktaimon family, the young tribal chief Koktaimonko killed the messenger with his scimitar. Standing atop the snow-capped mountains, he issued a command to the entire grassland, overthrowing the demon's rule.
The herders of various tribes, oppressed for too long, responded enthusiastically, rising up in rebellion to follow Monko. After hundreds of battles, large and small, they finally defeated the demon's army. With the help of the first Great Wheel King of Buddhism, they killed the powerful demon and established the powerful and unified Mongol Yuan Empire.
"Mong" represents the Koktaimon family. "Yuan" represents beginning and endless cycles. It is said that the name of this empire was bestowed by the Great Wheel King.
Of course, this is just a legend. But there is no doubt that Buddhism played a crucial role in the Koktaimon family's war to unify the grasslands. Every Mongol Khan was a devout Buddhist and a disciple of the Great Wheel King, though this was merely a nominal title. The Khan did not actually practice asceticism in the snowy mountains. However, this title was the most effective means for the Koktai Mongol family to rule the steppes.
The authority of the Koktai Mongol Golden Family was unquestionable. Anyone who dared to offend the Golden Family would face the most severe punishment, including the extermination of their entire clan.
While the Mongol Yuan dynasty did not have the clearly defined division of labor in its court like the Central Plains empires, it had developed a well-established system over a millennium. The biggest difference between the Mongol Yuan and the Central Plains states was that the Mongol Yuan historically revered military force. In their eyes, the scholars and poets of the Central Plains were like clowns performing acrobatics in their country. They found it difficult to understand why the emperors of the Central Plains would allow those who were physically weak to hold power.
In the eyes of the Mongol Yuan people, only warriors were worthy of respect.
Mandulatu, already in his fifties, had always hoped to lead his fierce steppe cavalry in a decisive battle against the Sui dynasty before he died. He thought he wouldn't live to see that day, but fate smiled upon him, and war suddenly and unexpectedly broke out.
When he received Mandulang's urgent report, the now-white-bearded Mandulatu remained silent for a long time. He suddenly felt a sense of unease, unsure whether to be angry or happy.
A man in his fifties had long understood one thing about war:
War… is never a good thing.
The Mandu family's hardline stance against the Sui dynasty was merely a matter of habit. But when war truly arrived, Mandulatu realized that despite decades of boasting, he was still unprepared.
…
…
He Dazhuang was a veteran of seven years, belonging to the Right Valiant Guard. When he first joined the army, he always fantasized about one day being like his fathers, wielding a sword and marching onto enemy soil, beheading all those who dared to resist the Sui army and carrying their heads in his hands for military merit. His father was also a soldier in the Right Valiant Guard of the Sui Dynasty, having participated in the war to destroy the Shang Dynasty. His entire childhood was spent in his father's memories. He loved those stories, loved watching his father's flushed face, as if drunk, and the barely suppressed fervor in his eyes when he spoke with excitement.
Although his father never rose to the rank of squad leader even in his old age and retirement, it couldn't diminish the pride of his decades of military service. His father's stories were filled with killing, plunder, and, unsurprisingly, the rape of women from enemy countries. But his father didn't see this as a betrayal of his mother; on the contrary, even his mother didn't think there was anything wrong with what she did.
As a child, He Dazhuang's favorite game was wielding the wooden sword his father had carved for him, playing war games with his village friends. The weakest children were always forced to play the Shang soldiers, while the strong and healthy ones would compete for the chance to play the Sui soldiers.
He Dazhuang was frustrated because he was very short as a child. Always the one being bullied, in the games he loved playing since childhood, he always played the enemy of the Sui Dynasty. He'd die under someone else's wooden sword, which annoyed him, but didn't diminish his passion for the game.
He believed that one day he would grow tall and strong, inherit the Sui Dynasty soldier's uniform from his father, and take up the incomparably sharp sword. He would become the protagonist on the battlefield, crushing all enemies under his feet.
He dreamed of this for many years, until he actually became a soldier.
For the first two years of his enlistment, he still maintained his thirst for war. But as he grew older and more mature, he found himself somewhat afraid of war. He dared not confide this worry to anyone, for he feared being ridiculed. How could a member of the Sui Dynasty's army be afraid of battle?
Although he was now indeed very tall and strong, and although he no longer held a wooden sword but a real sword.
He was proud of his father, and his father was equally proud of him. His father had never held the rank of squad leader, while He Dazhuang had risen to the rank of company commander after only five years in the army. He commanded fifty elite soldiers, and his father would always beam with pride when he talked about it.
Just over a year ago, fortune smiled upon him again; He Dazhuang was promoted to brigade commander, with a hundred soldiers under his command.
But this promotion did not bring him joy.
The massacre of over a year ago still kept him awake at night. He and many of his comrades from the Right Valiant Guard had set off from their garrison to a place called Fangu. That night, they were ordered to storm into the small town and slaughter everyone.
The orders from above stated that the people of Fangu had been bribed by the Mongols. They had shamelessly betrayed the nation's intelligence and no longer belonged to the proud Sui people. The enraged soldiers stormed in, killing every unfamiliar face. Those still asleep became victims of their blades, including the elderly, women, and children.
That night, He Dazhuang killed many people as well.
Anger blinded him, and the killing stained his hands red. When he finally stopped and calmed down, he suddenly felt a chill run down his spine.
Were all those massacred civilians truly spies of the Mongol Yuan dynasty?
He couldn't be sure, nor dared he seek confirmation.
He heard that the garrison of Fangu had already been killed. Just half a day before they stormed into Fangu city, those eight hundred border soldiers were crushed into mincemeat by the heavy cavalry under the general's command.
These events became a nightmare he could never shake off. He didn't know how many nights he had woken up from nightmares, drenched in sweat. The faces of those women and children remained in his mind, haunting him.
He began to drink heavily, his tolerance increasing, yet he became increasingly difficult to get drunk.
…
…
He Dazhuang turned to look at the soldiers following behind him, and gestured for them to lower their bodies. A hundred heavily armed soldiers followed closely behind him, with two squad leaders flanking him on either side. They set off from Fangu at nightfall and lay in ambush on Wolf's Milk Mountain for an entire night.
The Sui army knew the Mongols had set up numerous sentry posts on Wolf's Milk Mountain, but had never paid them any attention. The very existence of these sentry posts was proof of the Mongols' fear of the Sui army. They feared the Sui would cross Wolf's Milk Mountain, which was why they had furtively stationed so many scouts there.
He Dazhuang's task was to clear the mountain of Mongol scouts overnight.
That night, He Dazhuang and his men silently killed at least twenty Mongol scouts. Before dawn, only one place remained to be reached: the highest point of Wolf's Milk Mountain, where at least thirty Mongol soldiers were stationed. When he saw the Mongol scouts, wearing leather helmets and gray leather armor, appear a hundred meters away, He Dazhuang rubbed his furrowed brow, clearing his mind of the jumbled thoughts.
"Splitting into two groups to encircle them. One group goes around to the other side of the mountain to prevent anyone from escaping. The other group follows me, uphill."
He gave the order in a low voice, then slowly leveled his crossbow and aimed at the Mongol scouts who had approached within thirty meters.
"Kill!"
A deep roar escaped his throat, and several crossbow bolts flew out simultaneously, felling the Mongol soldiers to the ground. He stood up, drew his sword: "Great Sui!"
"Forward!"
The soldiers shouted, charging towards the last Mongol stronghold on Wolf Milk Mountain.
War.
It has come.