The five bodies lay in a shallow pit not far from the tent, covered with coarse cloth and guarded by two Oirat men.
Square-Face led Su Yan over and lifted the coarse cloth for him to inspect.
The bodies had been dead for over two hours, and signs of lividity and rigor mortis had begun to appear. Due to the cool autumn night, there wasn’t much odor yet. Su Yan, accompanied by the Embroidered Uniform Guards, carefully examined each body. Indeed, the faces were those of Central Plains men, dressed in simple civilian clothing. Their bodies bore signs of a struggle, and the fatal wounds matched the blade of Aletan’s curved saber.
Su Yan scrutinized the face of one corpse, trying to recall if it looked familiar. Unfortunately, even though he had been present when Huo Dun and Aletan had dueled, he couldn’t clearly remember the appearance of the personal soldier who had intervened.
If only Ah Zhui were here. Su Yan thought bitterly. With his sharp perception and excellent memory, Ah Zhui could recall faces at a glance. He was probably the only person besides Aletan and the assailant who had seen the stalker’s face and clothing.
…I told you not to do that, and you didn’t listen. Told you to leave, and you listened too well? What happened to ‘Even if I’m driven away, I’ll linger nearby day and night’? Where are you now?
Frustration welled up in Su Yan as he glanced around, searching for a trace of Ah Zhui. He couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, his back prickling with unease. He abruptly turned his head but saw nothing—only the deep darkness of the night, the rustling grass swaying in the wind. Overhead, a solitary full moon cast its cold, desolate light across the land.
Ah Zhui, get out here for me! The words burned in his throat but were forcefully swallowed back down.
Having scolded him, cursed him, and driven him away, now he had to call him back? Su Yan couldn’t bring himself to do it. He clenched his teeth and fumed internally: Fine, keep hiding then. If you’ve got the guts, don’t ever show your face again!
Grabbing Gao Shuo’s extended arm, Su Yan climbed out of the pit. From a distance, a team of riders approached at breakneck speed, their torches cutting through the darkness. In moments, they arrived before him.
Chu Yuan dismounted and saluted. “Lord Su, Huo Canjun has arrived, along with Minister Yan.”
On this Mid-Autumn Festival, the military camp was serving wine and meat as a reward.
Yan Chengxue was dragged by Huo Dun to have a reunion meal. He drank a few more cups than usual, got a bit tipsy, and laid down in a side room to rest. In the middle of the night, he heard a commotion in the courtyard. He got up to check what was happening and learned that Aletan had been poisoned. The Oirat people accused one of Huo Dun’s personal guards of the crime and reported it to Su Yan.
Su Yan sent the commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, Chu Yuan, to investigate the matter. Coincidentally, five of Huo Dun’s men were indeed missing, and he was preparing to lead a team to pursue them.
When questioned by Chu Yuan, Huo Dun looked shocked and firmly denied any involvement. Yan Chengxue simply decided to go with him to identify the bodies.
Su Yan gave the two a cool nod. “Huo Canjun, Minister Yan.”
Huo Dun didn’t bother with pleasantries. He jumped into the pit and examined the bodies carefully. Frowning, he said, “These five were indeed my personal guards, but I don’t know why they ended up dead here.”
“It was your order! You—and him—” a square-faced man gripped the hilt of his blade tightly and pointed at Yan Chengxue. “Over the horse deal, you tried to harm us. When it failed, you sought revenge and sent men to assassinate Aletan!”
The watching Oirat men started shouting angrily in broken Mandarin:
“Yes, it was them!”
“Poison because you can’t win—a coward’s move!”
Yan Chengxue’s face was pale but proud. Faced with the accusations, he sneered with contempt. “This is pure slander. Just five deserters’ corpses—what proof is there that they acted on orders from Huo Canjun or myself? And what evidence is there that Aletan was poisoned in an assassination and not just fell ill? I could just as easily say that you northern barbarians attacked our border soldiers and tried to frame us to incite conflict between our nations!”
That infuriated the Oirat men even more. They drew their blades and shouted, ready to charge him.
The square-faced man still had some sense and held his comrades back. He said, “This happened on your territory. The bodies are your people too. You say it’s unrelated—who would believe that? Do you think a few horse sellers, as light as grass seeds, can be trampled as you please? Let me tell you—Aletan is the Crown Prince of the Oirat. His father is the eagle perched on the sacred tree—Borhan Khan, Hu Kuoli. If the Khan learns that his son was killed by your people, he will unleash heavenly wrath. That’ll truly be a war between our nations!”
He couldn’t pronounce the word for “conflict,” so he changed it to: “War!”
Yan Chengxue’s expression changed. “The Oirat Crown Prince? But Hu Kuoli’s eldest son is named Kunle. You’re using a false name? But I’ve heard the Oirats never use aliases.”
Square-face scoffed. “We Oirats carry names blessed by our ancestors’ spirits. No matter where we go, we never change them. ‘Kunle’ is just a name used in official documents for your Great Ming people. Aletan is Aletan—the son of the Sacred Tree, heaven’s golden gift!”
Su Yan also showed a look of surprise. The names “Hu Kuoli” and “Kunle” weren’t unfamiliar to him—he first heard them from Emperor Jinglong.
Hu Kuoli was the current leader of the Oirat tribe. His grandfather had killed the former ruler of Beicheng who fled after defeat and seized the khan’s title, calling himself “Borhan Khan,” meaning “Divine King.”
Later, the Tatars fought relentlessly with the Oirats, Wangliu, Woye, and other tribes for decades trying to reclaim the khanate. Their power grew, and Hu Kuoli’s inherited title of “Borhan” became more and more controversial.
Out of fear and hatred for the Tatars and a desire to unify the northern steppes, Hu Kuoli considered allying with Great Ming.
Coincidentally, Emperor Jinglong, following Su Yan’s advice, was also seeking a tribe to support in the north that could counterbalance and drain the Tatar forces.
The two sides hit it off. To solidify the alliance, Hu Kuoli requested a Great Ming princess as a bride for his eldest son, Kunle. Unfortunately, Emperor Jinglong strictly followed ancestral law and refused political marriages, delaying negotiations for months.
Who would’ve thought that the “Prince Kunle” named in diplomatic papers was actually Aletan? And that “Aletan” was the real name, while “Kunle” was just… an official title?
Su Yan found it fascinating how fate could be so subtle and mysterious—linking two people with no previous connection, from faraway lands, through an unexpected twist. He quietly marveled at the thought, then said to Square-face, “Give me the cloth pouch.”
Square-face knew he was asking for the hidden weapon retrieved from Aletan’s body. He hesitated.
Su Yan said to him, “Don’t worry. I’ll ensure justice. Given the gravity of this case, both your accusations and their defense must be backed by solid evidence. This is a key piece of material proof. I won’t damage or lose it on purpose.”
After a brief pause, he added, “I can swear on my ancestors as witnesses.”
The Oirat people valued oaths deeply, especially those made in the presence of their ancestors. The square-faced man reluctantly pulled a cloth-wrapped bundle from his chest and handed it over. “Aletan once said that if it doesn’t involve the greatest benefit between the two nations, you are a trustworthy friend. Now, in this situation, I don’t know if I should believe him… Don’t let him down.”
Su Yan nodded, taking the bundle. He slowly unwrapped it in front of Huo Dun and Yan Chengxue, his eyes fixed intently on their expressions, carefully observing even the subtlest changes.
He had already figured out these two: Yan Chengxue was a schemer, venomous and calculating, but his arrogance and temper often betrayed his emotions. Huo Dun, while lacking principles and often indulging Yan Chengxue’s demands for some unknown reason, still carried the straightforwardness of a soldier, which made it hard for him to fully mask his reactions, even when lying.
As the cloth fell open, revealing a jet-black, dark iron flying needle, Huo Dun’s pupils contracted sharply, and his face showed a flicker of shock.
Su Yan noticed that Huo Dun’s right hand, hanging at his side, moved slightly upward, his fingers curling as if to reach for something, but he quickly restrained himself and let it drop back down.
Yan Chengxue, on the other hand, went pale, his face almost turning ashen. He glanced briefly at the flying needle but immediately averted his gaze—far too quickly for someone seeing an unfamiliar object for the first time, making his reaction appear suspiciously evasive.
Su Yan had seen enough and calmly addressed Huo Dun, “Huo Canjun, would you mind showing me what you’re hiding in your chest?”
Huo Dun clenched his teeth, remaining still.
Su Yan’s expression darkened. “If Huo Canjun refuses, shall I have the Embroidered Uniform Guard assist you?”
Huo Dun stood rigid, staring straight at Su Yan. After a tense moment, he slowly reached into his chest pocket and pulled out a small, dark brown leather pouch slightly larger than a palm.
The pouch was waterproof and tightly sealed, suggesting that its contents were either exceptionally valuable or extremely dangerous. Embroidered Uniform Guard commander Chu Yuan cautiously took it, opened the pouch, and poured the contents onto a white cloth.
Out spilled a set of eleven flying needles, all crafted from the same jet-black dark iron. Under the torchlight, the needles shimmered with a faint bluish hue, indicating they had been coated in poison. Alongside them was a pair of gloves, thin and black as cicada wings, made from an unknown material. They were likely used to handle the poisoned needles safely.
The square-faced man exclaimed, “That’s the same kind of needle! The exact one that struck Aletan!”
The Oirat people erupted into a commotion. Su Yan raised his hand, signaling for calm, and turned to Huo Dun. “Huo Canjun, you’re known for your mastery of the Yang family spear technique, famous throughout the military. Carrying such insidious and treacherous weapons seems inconsistent with your usual character.”
Huo Dun hesitated for a moment before replying, “The spear is for battle and too cumbersome to carry everywhere. These small weapons were crafted for self-defense.”
Su Yan pressed further, “Since you had these needles made, can you tell me what kind of poison they are coated with and the symptoms of the poison?”
Huo Dun stammered, unable to provide an answer.
Su Yan shifted his focus to Yan Chengxue, his sharp gaze cutting through the darkness. “Perhaps Minister Yan might have an answer?”
Yan Chengxue folded his arms and let out a cold, piercing laugh. “You’ve all planned this out, haven’t you? What do you want me to say? That I personally designed these needles and ordered their manufacture? Or that I concocted the poison myself and had it applied? If you’re so certain, why not arrest my guards and interrogate the craftsmen? Their answers will surely satisfy you more than my words.”
Ignoring his insolence, Su Yan pressed on, “What is the poison on the needles? And where is the antidote?”
“It’s called ‘Border City Snow,’” Yan Chengxue replied with a sneer. “The poisoned person’s hair and beard turn white, like snow covering a city wall. Their internal organs burn as if consumed by a raging fire, and within moments, their body convulses and dies. Even the strongest individual won’t last more than two minutes. As for an antidote—if, as you say, Aletan was poisoned over two hours ago, his body must already be cold. What’s the point of an antidote now? And besides, I don’t have one.”
The square-faced man, unable to contain his rage, roared and swung his blade toward Yan Chengxue. The other Oirat warriors also drew their weapons and charged forward.
Huo Dun reacted quickly, drawing his sword to block the attack, countering with a swift strike of his own.
The soldiers Huo Dun had brought clashed with the thirty-odd Oirat men, plunging the scene into utter chaos.
“Enough! Cease this at once!” Su Yan’s voice boomed over the melee.
“Huo Dun, if you kill these Oirat men, you’ll confirm the accusations of massacring vassals and murdering a prince. There will be no clearing your name. Even if you and Minister Yan care nothing for your own lives, consider your parents and family!”
He then turned to the Oirat warriors. “And you, Aletan’s kin! You said you wanted me to uphold justice—this is no way to do so! Do your actions here represent the will of Khan Hu Kuoli and the entire Oirat tribe? If so, don’t blame me for interpreting this as a challenge to the Ming Empire!”
His warnings struck where it hurt most.
No matter how fiercely Huo Dun wanted to protect Yan Chengxue, he couldn’t disregard his family. Likewise, the Oirat men couldn’t afford to act without their leader’s consent and risk instigating war.
The Embroidered Uniform Guard took the opportunity to force the two sides apart by several meters.
Huo Dun, now surrounded by his own soldiers, gripped Yan Chengxue’s icy fingers and whispered, “Old Yan…”
Yan Chengxue didn’t look at him, his gaze fixed on the corpses in the pit.
“…Those five were indeed my men. If there’s no way out of this, then let the needles and the poison fall on me. At least one of us might survive.”
Yan Chengxue sneered, the corner of his mouth twitching with disdain. “So, you think it was me too?”
Huo Dun froze. The poisoned needles had been handed to him directly by Yan Chengxue, who had insisted Aletan was undoubtedly a northern spy. Whether true or not, the animosity was irreconcilable, and striking first was the only option. Now that a needle was inexplicably missing and had been used in the murder, who else but Yan Chengxue, his closest confidant, could have taken it?
“I know you didn’t want to implicate me, so you handled it personally…”
Yan Chengxue sighed softly. “And yet, I know that while those five men were yours, they didn’t act on your orders.”
Huo Dun: “What?”
Yan Chengxue said, “Old Huo, I’m not as stupid as you think. But you’re even more foolish than I imagined.”
Huo Dun: “…”
Standing outside the tense crowd on the verge of drawing swords, Su Yan noticed the two whispering to each other and frowned.
He couldn’t yet be certain whether Huo and Yan were truly the culprits, but judging by their motives, the murder weapon, and the evidence left at the scene, the two couldn’t easily clear themselves of suspicion.
There was only one thing Su Yan was sure of—this assassination was riddled with strange and suspicious elements. It was likely there was a hidden mastermind behind it all. And the one person who may have witnessed the assassination was Jinghong Zhui—possibly the only crucial eyewitness.
Su Yan felt both frustrated and resigned. He raised his voice and called out, “Ah Zhui!”
His voice echoed far across the open, quiet grassland.
“—If you don’t show yourself now, you really won’t see me again in this lifetime!”
Su Yan used a deep breath from his diaphragm that made his lower abdomen ache. He staggered slightly, and someone reached out to steady him.
A familiar voice came from his side—cold and clear like a frost-covered sword under the moonlight. As it had been countless times before, it responded gently but firmly:
“Subordinate is present. What are your orders, my lord?”
