Chapter One: The Hot Spring Pool

In late December, the weather in Lingzhou had turned bitterly cold. About sixty miles south of Lingwu County in Lingzhou lay the ruins of a city called Bogulu City. This city was where the Xiongnu chieftain Helian Bobo’s prized horse died. To commemorate the horse, Helian Bobo built a city there, originally named Baimaliu. Over time, through mispronunciations and distortions, the name evolved into Bogulu. Later, during the Northern Wei dynasty, a military garrison was established here, known as Bogulu Garrison.

After the fall of Northern Wei, Bogulu Garrison fell into ruin. Nearly a century had passed, yet this abandoned military town still stood proudly against the harsh winds. At this moment, Bogulu Garrison had suddenly grown bustling with activity. Although no entire building remained intact, the city walls, house walls, and courtyard walls largely stood firm.

Starting in October of the first year of the Wude era, heavy snowstorms swept across the northern deserts, causing temperatures to plummet and countless cattle and sheep to freeze to death. Ashina Duojishi, the Khagan of the Turkic people, was forced to order the relocation of over twelve thousand clans—referred to as “luo,” which roughly corresponded to Han households—southward to escape the cold.

Unlike Han households, Turkic “luo” were structured under a slave-owning system, encompassing not only the clan head but also his children, wives, concubines, and slaves. Each “luo” could number anywhere from a dozen to several hundred individuals. These twelve thousand “luo” essentially represented the entire Eastern Turkic nation migrating en masse.

The king of Liang, Liang Shidu, accepted three thousand of these “luo.” The three thousand “luo,” numbering thirty to forty thousand Turkic soldiers and civilians, were led by Ashina Duojishi’s younger brother, Yihu Ashina Silifei.

Seizing the opportunity presented by the Turks’ southward migration to escape the cold, Liang Shidu stationed Yihu Ashina Silifei and his troops in the desolate city sixty miles south of Lingwu County—Bogulu City.

With over thirty thousand people settling in, the small military town was suddenly packed to capacity. The former administrative hall of Bogulu Garrison, the most intact building remaining, was naturally used to house the esteemed Yihu Ashina Silifei.

“Intact,” of course, was relative. The hall’s roof had long since collapsed, leaving it open to the sky. A few pieces of cowhide were hastily stretched over the top, the snowflakes striking the hide like drumbeats.

Yihu Ashina Silifei wore a look of disgust as he waved his hand dismissively. Two burly Turkic warriors approached, lifting a lifeless female corpse, preparing to carry her outside.

To curry favor with Silifei, Liang Shidu had somehow procured several women, offering them to Silifei for his amusement. This particular Han woman, in Silifei’s eyes, had an acceptable figure and appearance but lacked vitality. Lying on a sheepskin blanket, she resembled a corpse. Silifei found her utterly uninteresting. Whether strangling or twisting her, she never uttered a sound. By the time Silifei had finished, she had long since expired.

As the two Turkic warriors carried the half-naked corpse toward the exit, Silifei commanded in Turkic, “Don’t waste her—take her out to feed my Big Black!”

“Big Black” was Silifei’s beloved black mountain dog, fiercely ferocious.

Sitting bare-chested before a campfire, Silifei grasped a silver bowl filled with meat broth. Cradling it like a heater, his face was dark with resentment. “Damn this wretched heaven. I thought the south would be warmer than the north, but the wind and snow are even harsher than the Han Sea!” he muttered.

A golden, oil-dripping lamb roasted over the fire, steaming and fragrant. A female slave knelt nearby, swallowing hard but daring not to glance at the lamb.

Silifei was cruel and capricious by nature. When in a good mood, he would sing while cradling a lamb; in a bad mood, he vented by killing at will. Since settling in Bogulu City, he had cruelly slain dozens, all pitiable beauties without exception.

At that moment, a Turkic warrior draped in black bear fur pushed aside the door curtain and entered. The sudden rush of wind and snow made Silifei shiver involuntarily.

“Bulugen, what’s the situation?” Silifei asked without irritation at the cold. He cut a large piece of leg meat from the roasted lamb and handed it to Bulugen. “Found those southern barbarians yet?”

“Damn them! These southern barbarians are nothing but foxes!” Bulugen grumbled, sitting by the fire. He took the meat without concern for its heat and bit down heartily.

“Let them escape again?” Silifei noticed fresh wounds on Bulugen’s chest armor, flecked with red ice crystals, and frowned. “What, you didn’t get anything out of it either?”

“It’s not my incompetence—they’re just too cunning!” Bulugen muttered. “The southern barbarians only strike from ambushes, never face me head-on. They run faster than rabbits, too. But there was one young fellow who was no weakling.”

Silifei knew Bulugen’s pride and tendency to exaggerate. The young man was probably more than a match for Bulugen, who must have suffered a serious defeat. Silifei didn’t call him out but patted his shoulder. “No matter how sly the fox, it cannot outrun the hunter’s pursuit. Wait until the skies clear—I’ll see where they can run then.”

About one hundred and fifty to sixty miles southeast of Lingwu County lay a hot spring basin, with dozens to hundreds of springs of varying sizes, steam rising gently. The entire hot spring area now resembled a fortified city. Over a thousand sleighs from the Right Guard encircled the three springs arranged in a triangular formation, forming a mobile fortress.

Around the perimeter stood eight-foot-high, twelve-foot-long sleigh compartments, with lookout towers mounted on sleighs, creating an eight hundred-step circumference encampment with walls of shielded wagons. Three flags with silver borders on a blue background fluttered in the wind atop the wagon fortress. The central flag bore the inscription “Grand Marshal of the Tang Army, Chen,” the left flag read “Right Guard Commander, Chen,” and the right flag “Loyal and Brave General of Tang, Chen.”

This wagon fortress belonged to the Right Guard reinforcements led by Chen Ying. He had arrived in Lingzhou three days prior but was repelled by Luo Shixin’s Yue Cavalry, suffering over a hundred casualties and losing more than a hundred warhorses.

The blizzard howled fiercely, snowflakes striking the cowhide tents of the central camp with sharp crackling sounds.

Once handsome and dashing, Chen Ying now appeared transformed—his skin darker, his body thinner.

After nearly a month of grueling travel, Chen Ying had lost considerable weight. His gaunt face was sunken, cheeks hollow, barely any flesh remaining.

Yet his eyes shone brighter than ever.

Four hundred cavalry thundered noisily, shattering the silence of the hot springs. Chen Ying’s eyes snapped open. “Finally back!”

Unlike Liu Da’er, who kept the clearly talented vanguard Zhao Zilong close as a bodyguard, Chen Ying had entrusted four Yue Cavalry regiments—over twelve hundred riders—to Luo Shixin’s command after being pursued. Luo Shixin had rotated these regiments on patrol, extinguishing several bands of bandits formed from scattered Tang soldiers fleeing the shallow plains, capturing much loot.

About a hundred paces from the wagon fortress, the previously closed gate suddenly swung open. Zhang Huaiwei, the Deputy Commander of the Xunyi Division, came forward to meet them. “The night wind cuts like a knife; you’re moving fast...”