After returning, Aletan deliberated with his men for half a day before deciding to break up their group. Each person would take a dozen horses and use the two days they had bought to quietly leave the Qingshui River grasslands. This way, they could scatter into the merchants traveling in and out of the city, making it harder for the garrison troops to notice.
Aletan himself stayed behind with five or six men, along with a small number of horses, as a decoy.
When the market opened two days later, if the requisition officer still tried to force a low price, only 10 or 20 horses would be available for purchase. Aletan’s losses would be minimal, and the horses that had been moved out could simply be sold elsewhere. The only downside was the increased cost of forage and travel for the journey.
If they managed to negotiate a better price, they could bring the relocated horses back.
Everyone agreed that while this plan was troublesome, it was the best option available. Thus, they began transferring the horses in batches.
On the first day, nearly half the horses and men were moved without issue.
However, on the second day, one of the herders accidentally knocked over a rack at the city gate, drawing the guards’ attention. Suspicious, they reported the incident to the military camp.
At that moment, Lingzhou’s Canjunzheng, Huo Dun, was drinking tea with Yan Chengxue, the Imperial Stud Minister for Shanxi. When the guards’ report reached them, Yan Chengxue was the first to react. Slamming his teacup down with a heavy thud, he fumed, “They’re trying to evade requisition! I’ve already been more than courteous and lenient with these barbarians, sending people to negotiate with them in good faith. Yet they repay me by deceiving Great Ming’s officials, using stalling tactics to sneak their horses away. It’s true what they say—barbarians are untrustworthy!”
Huo Dun poured him another cup of tea and smiled in an attempt to placate him. “Why get so worked up over a few uncivilized barbarians, Lord Yan? You’re giving them far too much credit. Since they’ve acted without honor, let us respond in kind. I’ll personally lead troops to apprehend these barbarians and bring them before you to deal with as you see fit.”
Yan Chengxue’s expression softened slightly at this but still carried a hint of anger. “Wait! Sending troops to arrest them outright may provoke the Oirat tribes to intervene later. I’ve heard their leaders have been in contact with the court recently, and the Emperor seems inclined to win them over. If someone accuses us of ‘bullying a tributary state,’ it could damage your reputation and future prospects. We need a legitimate excuse to act.”
Huo Dun’s grin deepened. “Lord Yan, your consideration of my well-being speaks volumes of your care for me.”
Yan Chengxue shot him a glare. “I’m just making sure your rashness doesn’t drag me down!”
“Indeed, indeed! So, what do you suggest we do?”
Yan Chengxue sipped his tea slowly, then said, “White Tiger Hall.”
Huo Dun, having been a close friend of Yan Chengxue for over a decade, immediately understood the reference. He was alluding to the Water Margin tale where Gao Qiu lured Lin Chong into the military’s White Tiger Hall with a pretense, setting him up for a grave offense.
The western city of Qingshui Camp had a similar facility, a military conference hall established by the Ministry of War. It served as the command center for coordinating border defense in the region. By law, unauthorized personnel entering the hall armed could be executed on the spot.
Yan Chengxue rose, brushing the dust from his sleeves. “I’ll send the requisition officer to invite this ‘Leader Lin.’ Judging by his wealth and attire, he’s likely a Oirat noble. Not only will I take his fine horses, but I’ll also hold him as a hostage. Let the Oirat tribe ransom him back—with horses. Eight or ten thousand should suffice.”
Huo Dun burst into laughter. “Lord Yan, you truly are ruthless!”
The camaraderie between them allowed for such jests, which Yan Chengxue didn’t take to heart. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“None whatsoever. I wouldn’t dare.” Huo Dun grasped Yan Chengxue’s icy fingers briefly and said, “I’ll make the necessary arrangements and await your command.”
—
At the Qingshui pastures, Aletan spotted a group of soldiers galloping toward them in the distance. Guessing that their secret transfer of horses had been exposed, his expression darkened, and his hand instinctively moved to the hilt of his curved blade.
When the soldiers approached, the requisition officer dismounted. His demeanor had shifted—though still stern, he no longer carried the same air of arrogance.
The officer addressed Aletan, “They say business negotiations should never harm relationships. There’s no need to make this so unpleasant. We’ve never forbidden you from haggling. Let’s sit down and discuss this calmly.”
Aletan, noticing the change in tone, grew suspicious. He replied, “The market rate is 100 jin of tea leaves per horse. I haven’t raised the price unnecessarily. If you’re still offering 70 or 80 jin, there’s no point in continuing this conversation. I can’t face my people with such terms.”
The horse procurement officer sighed and said, “It’s difficult for you, but it’s difficult for me too. The court has annual quotas for purchasing and requisitioning horses, but the allocated funds are barely enough—every copper coin has to be stretched to the limit. Besides, we errand-runners also need to eat, don’t we? Let’s each take a step back—everything is negotiable.”
One of the men beside Aletan muttered in Oirat dialect, “Not enough public funds to buy horses, but plenty for them to embezzle and take kickbacks? These Ming officials are all hypocrites—not a single honest word comes out of their mouths. We can’t trust them. Might as well just cut them down now!”
Aletan signaled with his eyes to stop the outburst from his companion, then turned to the officer and said, “Let’s move the conversation to the tent.”
The officer gave a bitter smile. “I don’t have the authority for that. My limit is sixty jin. If you want a better price, you’ll have to negotiate with my superior. Come to the city with me.”
“It’s such a hassle to sell horses to the government. Can’t I sell them to merchants instead?”
“That’s not an option. Until the quota for requisitioned horses is met, all horse markets in the Lingzhou region must prioritize the court’s needs.”
Aletan frowned in thought before nodding. “Alright, I’ll talk to your superior. If we can’t reach an agreement, then we’ll leave Lingzhou.”
The officer sighed in relief and, for the first time, clasped his hands in salute. “Life is tough. Let’s try to understand each other.”
Aletan arranged for the horses and remaining personnel to stay behind, then led seven of his men to follow the officer into Qingshui Camp. They arrived at a fortress in the western part of the camp. The structure was grand and heavily guarded, appearing to be a military post. This made Aletan even more suspicious. Reining in his horse, he asked, “Who exactly is your superior?”
“The Imperial Stud minister of Shaanxi,” the officer replied.
Aletan, who was somewhat familiar with Ming official titles, knew that an Imperial Stud minister was a sixth-rank position. For a common horse trader, this was already a significant authority figure. Without his status as a member of the Oirat tribe, the official likely wouldn’t have bothered meeting him at all.
The fact that the meeting was set in a military stronghold also showed the official’s concern about dealing with someone of northern tribal origin.
—Clearly, they were treating him as if he were a dangerous threat. Suppressing his displeasure for the sake of his mission, Aletan said, “Lead the way.”
The officer guided them through winding corridors and multiple gates, stopping at the entrance of a hall. “The superior is inside. Please enter.”
Aletan looked around and noticed the meticulous layout of the place. The corridors were heavily guarded with soldiers stationed every few steps, but curiously, the area near the inner hall seemed less secure. This discrepancy unsettled him. A cautious man despite his straightforward demeanor, Aletan decided to wait outside and assess the situation.
“Go on in,” the officer urged. “Don’t keep the superior waiting.”
Just as Aletan was about to respond, a voice suddenly rang out from inside the hall, shouting in the Oirat language, “This is too much! I’ll fight you to the death!”
The group outside immediately recognized the voice as one of their own. This companion had been tasked with transporting horses out of the city earlier and was likely caught and brought here.
Fiercely loyal to their kin, the Oirat men erupted in anger, drawing their weapons. “Stop! Who dares harm our brother?”
Before Aletan could issue a command, two impatient tribesmen slashed open the curtain and charged into the hall.
There was no turning back now. Determined to protect his people, Aletan stepped boldly into the hall and addressed the official seated within. “If we were invited here to discuss business, why resort to violence? Your country prides itself on being a land of propriety—is this what you call propriety?”
The official, initially startled, quickly regained his composure and barked, “Who invited you? What business? Nonsense! I am the garrison commander of Lingzhou. This is the Ministry of War’s council chamber. You barbarians have entered armed and uninvited. Are you here to assassinate a military officer and provoke war between our nations? Guards, seize them! If they resist, kill them on the spot!”
The commander smashed a teacup to the ground, and armed soldiers poured into the hall, aiming to disarm the Oirat group.
Aletan realized they had been tricked, but he faced the situation without hesitation. As a warrior, he believed in meeting challenges head-on. Drawing his curved blade, he charged toward the commander. “If you want to fight, then fight! But using deceit is beneath contempt. Let’s settle this!”
From a second-floor balcony nearby, Yan Chengxue, wearing a third-rank official’s crimson robe adorned with a peacock motif, stood beside Huo Dun, who was clad in silver armor with leopard-head engravings. The two men, one a scholar and the other a warrior, exchanged knowing looks.
The sounds of furious combat and clashing steel echoed from the council chamber. Yan Chengxue raised his chin slightly and remarked, “A handful of barbarians, and your soldiers can’t subdue them within a quarter of an hour. Perhaps your men need more training.”
Huo Dun looked embarrassed. “I didn’t expect the leader of these northerners to be so formidable. This man is no ordinary horse trader.”
Yan Chengxue mused, “A northern desert noble disguised as a horse trader in a border town, with such exceptional skills—he must have ulterior motives. Whether he’s truly from the Oirat tribe remains to be seen. It seems we’ve stumbled upon a spy by accident.”
As he spoke, the walls of the council chamber suddenly burst open, and two soldiers flew out, coughing blood and landing heavily in the courtyard.
Aletan emerged through the broken wall, his hair and shoulders dusted with debris. Shaking off the fragments like a lion shaking its mane, he raised his head to glare at the two men on the balcony. His piercing gaze seemed to lash at them like a barbed whip.
Huo Dun sensed a surge of murderous intent laced with fury. Instinctively, he stepped forward, shielding Yan Chengxue’s figure behind him. He called down, “Impressive skills! Let me take you on!” Then, gesturing for several guards to escort Yan Chengxue to safety, he stepped onto the railing and leaped down from the second floor.
A guard tossed him a long spear midair. He caught it in one swift motion, the tip slicing through the air in a cold, gleaming arc, striking straight toward Alatan’s waist and ribs.
—
A small hawk with gray-white speckled feathers descended from the sky, landing on a man’s gloved fingers.
The man, draped in a black robe, was tall and gaunt, his frame resembling a withered, twisted poplar trunk. His robe concealed his feet, and his sleeves, chest, and back were adorned with numerous cloth straps fastened with bronze buckles, hanging long like ritual banners wrapped around an ancient tree in tribute to the gods.
His features were obscured beneath the shadow of his hood, only the sharp tip of his hooked nose faintly visible.
For a moment, he locked eyes with the hawk’s keen pupils, as if receiving some silent, mystical message. Then, he let out a hoarse chuckle.
Standing behind him, a short and stout boy with a round face asked, “Great Shaman, what did you see?”
The man’s throat, as if scorched by molten copper, produced a voice that was deeply hoarse: “The prince is in danger.”
“Ah!” The young attendant let out a small gasp. “Should we…”
The man didn’t reply. Instead, he took out a piece of raw meat to feed the falcon perched on his hand. He gently stroked its feathers with his bony fingers, and once it finished eating, he raised his hand, letting it take flight. Watching the falcon ascend, he murmured, “There’s blood in the wind, and the wrath of the gods is gathering… The opportunity I’ve waited for so long is finally near.”
—
Dusk was falling. Along a desolate official road, a large contingent of cavalry raced northward, the dust kicked up by their hooves lingering in the air.
Just before the light completely faded, the gates of Qingshui Camp appeared in the distance. Wiping the dust and sweat off his face, Chu Yuan shouted to the guards closing the gates, “Hold the gates! We need to enter!”
He rode forward and presented his Embroidered Uniform Guard waist token and military mobilization orders stamped with the seal of the Shaanxi Regional Command. A guard captain hurried over to verify the seal and, upon confirmation, saluted respectfully. “An esteemed Embroidered Uniform Guard officer leading troops to Qingshui Camp—does the court have new orders? Could you offer some guidance so we may prepare accordingly?”
Chu Yuan replied, “We’re searching for someone. This official was traveling with us but went missing after an attack by Tartar cavalry. I suspect he might have made his way to Qingshui Camp, so we’ve come here to look for him.”
He unfolded a newly painted portrait of Su Yan, whose features were captured with remarkable accuracy.
The guard captain exclaimed, “This official looks so young!”
Gao Shuo interjected, “Don’t be fooled by his youth; his status is extraordinarily significant. Orders from above require us to find him alive and well. Otherwise—” He made a swift gesture of slicing his neck, clean and decisive.
The guard captain paled. “What kind of rank does he hold? And how high up are these ‘orders from above’?”
“Not high—just a seventh-rank censor. As for ‘above,’” Gao Shuo clasped his hands in a salute toward the heavens, “it’s better if you don’t ask. Just know this: if we find him safe and sound here, everyone will be rewarded. But if we don’t—or if we find him injured, maimed, or worse—every official and soldier involved in this matter will face dire consequences!”
Terrified, the guard captain quickly gathered all the gatekeepers, lit torches, and had each one examine the portrait. He instructed them to recall if they had seen a young man resembling the one in the painting during their inspections of people entering and leaving the city.
One of the guards grumbled, “So many people come and go through the gates every day. How are we supposed to remember anyone’s face? We’re not blessed with photographic memory!”
But when he took a closer look at the portrait, his complaints ceased. The figure’s striking features were indeed memorable. Even if it wasn’t quite a face to be remembered forever, it was one to leave a distinct impression. If he had seen this person within the past few days, he would surely recall.
After some thought, he shook his head and passed the portrait to the next person.
The next guard squinted at it for a long while before suddenly slapping his thigh. “Hey, I remember this face! I’ve seen him!”
Chu Yuan and Gao Shuo’s faces lit up with excitement. Seven or eight Embroidered Uniform Guard officers crowded around, bombarding him with questions: “When?” “Where?” “Was he entering or leaving the city?” “Where is he now?”
The guard, overwhelmed by the sudden attention, stammered, “I… I don’t remember when exactly, but I’m certain I saw him…”
“Think harder!” “Focus!” “Tell the truth, or you’ll face consequences!”
Sweating profusely, the guard struggled to recall. “It was at the east gate where I was on duty. I can’t remember if he was entering or leaving… Maybe two or three days ago, or three or four—I’m really not sure.”
“What use is that memory of yours?” one Embroidered Uniform Guard officer grumbled.
The guard offered a sheepish grin. “But I do remember this—he was so handsome. When he took off his straw hat, I was completely stunned. That moment’s still vivid.”
The Embroidered Uniform Guard officers: “….”
“Fine,” Chu Yuan concluded. “At least we know that Lord Su passed through Qingshui Camp a few days ago. Whether he’s still in the city, we’ll have to dig deeper to find out.”
The guard captain suggested, “This matter must be reported to the Lord Canjun. Also, your cavalry will need accommodations. Why not follow me to the military garrison in the western city? After consulting with the Lord Canjun, you can decide the next steps.”
Chu Yuan knew that even a mighty dragon could not suppress a local snake. If he wanted to search for someone in Qingshui Camp, he would need the cooperation of local officials and military leaders. So, he nodded in agreement.
Meanwhile, inside White Cloud Inn, Su Yan pushed open the window and gazed at the towering flames to the west. He murmured, “Judging by the direction and distance, that should be the garrison fortress… Could something have happened?”
He knocked on the partition wall between the rooms and called out twice, “Ah Zhui.”
A few seconds later, Jinghong Zhui pushed open the door and stepped inside. “What are your orders, my lord?”
“Come take a look. I have a bad feeling about this. Also, tomorrow is the opening of the horse market in Qingshui Camp—this is the biggest border trade event of the year, with the most complex mix of people and the highest volume of goods and currency flow. I’m worried someone might take advantage of the chaos.”
Having spent a long time with Su Yan, Jinghong Zhui had learned to grasp his slightly unusual phrasing, understanding that his lord was expressing a sense of foreboding.
He carefully observed the flames, then closed his eyes and listened. His extraordinary hearing picked up the faint clash of weapons carried by the wind. Judging by the sounds, many people were engaged in battle.
“I hear fighting. My lord, you were right—something is indeed happening, and it’s happening right now.”
Su Yan patted the back of Jinghong Zhui’s hand, which rested on the window ledge. “Let’s go. We’ll follow the sound and take a look.”
