Chapter 789: Watering Horses in the Vast Sea

Chapter 789: Watering Horses at the Hanhai

“Oh, a meeting?” Zhao Changhe sidled up to Huangfu Qing with a grin, peering at the map. “Found the main force of the Vulture Hunting Fangs, and you’re discussing how to strike?”

The generals in the tent all turned their heads away, while the silent shaman elders prostrated themselves on the ground, kowtowing. The image of that figure carrying the god’s head toward the altar had left too deep a shadow in their minds.

Huangfu Qing, seeing their reaction, ground her teeth even harder, her voice seeming to squeeze through clenched jaws: “In this freezing cold, the King of Zhao, newly wed, why aren’t you lying in bed for three more days?”

Truth be told, the cold wasn’t that severe, even with a hint of lingering winter chill. As long as it didn’t rain, martial men didn’t even feel the cold, and Huangfu Qing, a Fire Cultivator at the Imperial Realm, was even more impervious. But the words “newly wed” and “bed” dripped with such sourness it could corrode the command tent itself—too sour.

Everyone turned their heads even further away. Huangfu Shaozong even felt like laughing. He’d never imagined his fiery sister could have such moments. From this alone, he longed to meet the long-admired Wu Hou, Tang Buqi, to exchange tales of being beaten since childhood—a bitter-sweet reminiscence.

Zhao Changhe shamelessly said, “This old man calculated that a battle was imminent here, so I came specially to help the Marshal…”

“Old man? What old man are you?” Huangfu Qing’s tone was icy. “The kind of old man who marries an old wife? So old your teeth are falling out, yet you still wed—never seen such shameless…”

“We’ll marry too.” Zhao Changhe silenced the Marshal with just five words.

“…Shameless, yet knowing shame.” The Marshal’s eyes wandered unconsciously, catching sight of her snickering brother. She stomped in fury: “I asked you for ideas, and you’re all useless! Sipping tea and cracking melon seeds like old men in the capital! All of you, get out! The King of Zhao and I have military secrets to discuss!”

The Marshal’s face couldn’t take it anymore, and the generals scattered like startled birds. They said others were too old to marry—wasn’t she old too? The moment marriage was mentioned, her face glowed like overflowing light, pink and radiant. Tsk.

The command tent was instantly empty, a floor of melon seed shells.

Huangfu Qing stiffened her neck, staring straight at the swaying tent flap: “When will it be?”

Zhao Changhe said, “Anytime… But we should have the old general preside over it, shouldn’t we?”

That was true… Huangfu Qing’s face flushed, still not looking at him: “But my identity as the Empress Dowager…”

“You can use your Vermilion Bird identity. We’ll just cover your head with a veil. Can’t we just explain it away? Who dares to spread that the Vermilion Bird is the Empress Dowager? I’ll beat them.”

“What if someone writes unofficial histories?”

“Who cares about that kind of wild history? The world is full of ‘Secret Histories of So-and-So’ from every dynasty. Who takes them seriously?”

In fact, if someone searched the capital now, they might already find “Secret History of the King of Zhao” circulating, tales of defiling the palace, the Empress Dowager and Emperor sharing… So, with all these “Secret Histories” from every era, even the truth might not be taken seriously, right? People today might still imagine it as true, since they knew the facts… But the further it spread into the future, the less anyone would believe it.

Truly, thanks to the little scribblers of past generations.

Huangfu Qing’s face seemed ready to drip water: “I want to be before Tang Wanzhuang.”

Zhao Changhe fell silent.

Huangfu Qing didn’t force an answer. After all, her Empress Dowager identity wasn’t suitable for a wedding back in the capital. A ceremony in the army would have to do, just a token gesture. It could wait until after the battle. Did Tang Wanzhuang think she could jump ahead?

Hmph.

And that foolish disciple could wait even longer. I helped you become emperor and conquer lands—what’s wrong with using your man for a bit?

Huangfu Qing’s mood brightened instantly, though her face remained stern: “Let’s talk business. Why are you suddenly here? I feel your injuries aren’t fully healed. Shouldn’t you rest more?”

Zhao Changhe, seeing her standing by the command desk studying the map, in her cloak and soft armor, looking explosively handsome, felt his heart itch. With no one around, he came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and rested his chin on her shoulder, looking at the map on the table: “I told you, I calculated you were in trouble, so of course I came to help.”

“No trouble. We won that hard-fought battle. Now it’s just cleaning up the remnants. What trouble? Do you think I can’t fight without you?” Huangfu Qing struggled half-heartedly, stiffening her neck: “Let go. In the command tent, what kind of behavior is this?”

Her struggle was weak. In truth, she loved being held like this, looking at the map together—so intimate and warm. Especially when he appeared in the command tent just when she was most troubled, her mood soared. She wanted to cling to him.

She had driven the generals away not out of embarrassment, but to be alone with her lover. Besides, those useless ones couldn’t help with the discussion anyway. Why were they standing there?

Zhao Changhe could feel her little tsundere act and laughed: “Alright, I’ll let go then.”

“How dare you? You dared to hug Yue Hongling in front of so many people. What’s wrong with hugging me?”

Zhao Changhe almost burst out laughing: “What’s the situation?”

Huangfu Qing pouted, looking down at the map again: “Can’t find the Vulture Hunting Fangs… My divine sense reaches far, but I didn’t detect them, so they’re not in range. But the Northern Desert is vast. Even if I sweep with my divine sense, I have to pick a direction. I called the generals to discuss which direction is most likely, but they’re all useless—no opinions at all. Feels like they all want to go back to the Holy Mountain for a victory banquet.”

Zhao Changhe smiled: “That’s normal. Everyone thought it was over. Who knew there’d be another battle? They haven’t even had a good sleep. We need to finish this quickly. If we drag it out, they’ll lose even more will to fight.”

Huangfu Qing said, “That’s why I’m anxious! But now that I think about it, your coming here isn’t much help. Your divine sense range isn’t as good as mine.”

Zhao Changhe said, “True. It seems I’m useless here. In military judgment, I’m even worse than you, Marshal.”

Huangfu Qing snorted: “At least Little Hezi came to provide the Marshal with emotional value… Hey hey, keep your hands still!”

The Marshal’s soft armor, however soft, was still armor—hard to the touch. Little Hezi had been stroking her belly, then moved down to her legs.

Huangfu Qing fumed: “You came to provide emotional value, not to mess with me! I’m thinking about military matters. Don’t get in the way.”

Zhao Changhe said, “What if Little Hezi can provide the Marshal with military intelligence? How will the Marshal reward me?”

Huangfu Qing’s eyes shimmered, biting her lower lip: “If you really know, I’ll let you do whatever you want. Haven’t I done all sorts of absurd things with you? Hey, wait—”

Zhao Changhe quietly unfastened the hem of her battle armor, lifted her cloak, pulled her waist back, and the Marshal instinctively bent over the table. She turned her head in anger: “You haven’t told me yet…”

“But the Marshal’s heroic posture is just too tempting… You know, all along this march, I’ve been swallowing my saliva every day.”

Huangfu Qing was torn between laughter and tears: “Then you were pretty good at pretending these past days.”

“Because the military situation was tense then. Who dared to mess around?”

“And now? Isn’t there still a military situation?”

“Because they’re about five or six hundred li away… With our seven-day ultimatum, they’re on high alert. We can take our time. On the seventh day, when they think we’re all at the Holy Mountain in conference, they’ll be most relaxed. Then we strike suddenly—one battle decides it.”

Huangfu Qing was stunned: “That makes sense, but how do you know their movements so clearly?”

“Because I’m your husband.”

“Hey hey… Damn it, this is the central command tent! You’re really taking it off! Hiss…”

The Marshal lay prone on the command desk, her delicate hands clenched into fists, battle armor still on, cloak like fire. Below, it had been quietly slipped down to her knees, as the enemy advanced into the hills.

Huangfu Qing nervously watched the tent entrance, feeling that this scoundrel had probably planned this scene ever since making her the commander. It was too shameful. But the great enchantress felt a thrill of excitement—she never really liked men who followed the rules.

“Aren’t you afraid… someone will barge in and see…” The Marshal, eyes seductive as she met the thrusts, bit her finger and complained in a muffled voice.

“Don’t worry. I may not be good at much, but solidifying and isolating the surrounding aura so no one can approach the tent—that I can do. And our sounds won’t carry outside.”

The command tent finally echoed with suppressed moans, unheard by anyone outside.

Huangfu Shaozong and the others gathered in the camp center for a meal, whispering about how to find the Vulture tribe, occasionally glancing toward the command tent. They all thought it was a tough problem—probably even the Marshal and the King of Zhao couldn’t figure it out in their secret meeting. Look how long it’s been, and they haven’t even eaten…

No one dared to imagine that the awe-inspiring, stern Vermilion Bird Venerable would consent to such a thing in the command tent…

Half an hour later, the Marshal stepped out of the tent, armor neat and heroic: “Finished eating? Prepare to march.”

Huangfu Shaozong was dumbfounded: “Marshal, have you eaten?”

“The King of Zhao brought rations. I’ve had enough.” Huangfu Qing said solemnly: “After extensive deduction with the King of Zhao, we’ve determined the location of the Vulture tribe. Assemble the troops and set out.”

“Where?”

“North. The Hanhai.”

…

The Hanhai, like the Erhai in Miao territory, is called a sea but is actually a large lake. In earlier times, it was known as the North Sea; in the present world, it’s called Lake Baikal—a massive freshwater lake capable of sustaining tribes.

But the climate is bitterly cold. Few tribes can settle here permanently. The surrounding area is vast and sparsely populated, almost uninhabited.

At this moment, in the southern reaches of the Vast Sea, the Vulture Tribe was encamped within a lakeside bay. A piercing wind whipped off the water, leaving many of the tribe’s elderly, weak, women, and children shivering as they huddled around fires inside drafty tents.

It was not just the vulnerable who suffered; even many of the robust, elite warriors could barely withstand the chill.

Unlike the Han army, whose supply lines were fully secure, these people had fled the battlefield in a panic, racing back to their clans to organize a frantic retreat, forcing them to abandon most of their belongings. They were much like Batu, who had once been driven away by Temur and reduced to cowering in the wilderness; had he not used Sanniang to contact Ying Wu for aid, his people would have perished entirely. The Vultures were slightly better off than Batu—they had at least retreated on their own initiative—but their advantage was slim. At the very least, they had lacked the time to drive their cattle and sheep along, leaving them desperately short on resources.

Yet everyone understood that the Han army would not remain here for long; they would inevitably march their forces back to the central plains. Once they departed, and since the other tribes had suffered catastrophic casualties in this war, this immense grassland would belong entirely to the well-prepared Vulture Tribe.

When that time came, they would sweep southward, and the establishment of a brand-new Vulture Royal Court was fully foreseeable.

This would be the rise of a scavenger vulture, feasting upon the corpse of the Golden Tent Royal Court.

In truth, there were several other locations where the Vulture Tribe could have hidden. The reason they chose the Vast Sea was that Vulture Hunter-Fang was certain Temur would conceal himself here.

Beneath the waters lay a hidden realm, the very place where Temur had risen to power in his youth. Hunter-Fang had to find it and kill Temur before his wounds healed; otherwise, if Temur recovered, Hunter-Fang would be the first to suffer the consequences.

Unfortunately, the boundless Vast Sea was immensely large, and a hidden realm was exceedingly difficult to locate. Caught between guarding against the Han army and searching for the secret realm, the Vulture Tribe had failed to uncover it within a short time.

Vulture Hunter-Fang was in no rush. It was common knowledge that injuries at such a profound level were truly not so easily mended. One need look no further than the Immortal Heavenly Deity, who had been gravely wounded overseas and had still not fully recovered after several months; or Bo’e, who had been injured in the battle of the Imperial Ancestral Temple and subsequently became little more than a marginal figure. This was also the primary reason the Han army had resolved upon their northern expedition. Temur’s injuries this time were absolutely no lighter than theirs, and he would not recover for several months.

Thus, they could take their time searching, and once the Han army returned, it would be easy to act...

That fellow Zhao Changhe had declared that all tribes must come to the Sacred Mountain to pay homage within seven days. Setting aside whether distant tribes could arrive in time or if the command was somewhat unreasonable, a conqueror was, after all, entitled to utter unreasonable demands. To Vulture Hunter-Fang, this timeframe signified a crucial turning point—after this homage, the main force of the Han army would surely withdraw, as it was impossible for their entire host to eat sand in the northern desert for long.

At most, they would leave behind a few thousand light cavalry to back submitters like Batu in establishing one or more vassal states. They would let them slaughter any tribes that "dared absent themselves from the homage," allowing the grassland clans to wage war and consume one another in another cycle of conflict, ensuring they would not recover their vitality for a century. This was the greatest strategic objective a Middle Kingdom dynasty could achieve.

Therefore, the most perilous period was actually these few days before the homage; once they endured this, the only adversaries remaining would be Batu and his ilk...

Vulture Hunter-Fang released his tribe's vultures but dared not allow them near the direction of the Sacred Mountain. He permitted them to patrol only the airspace within a few hundred miles of his position. Six or seven days passed, and all remained quiet.

The northern desert was so vast, and unlike the Sacred Mountain or the Royal Court, they had no clear target. If the enemy wished to find them, they would truly not know where to look. Placing himself in their shoes, Hunter-Fang felt there was no viable way.

By the seventh day, the patrol forces—including Hunter-Fang himself—who had originally been wound tight with anxiety, finally breathed a sigh of relief. At this hour, Zhao Changhe, Huangfu Qing, and their cohort could only be on the Sacred Mountain presiding over their grand audience ceremony. How could they suddenly appear in this godforsaken Vast Sea?

The scouting patrols had all returned to roast by the fires; it was so cold that no one could endure it.

"I said it long ago, Zhao Changhe is no god either. Their true strength actually cannot compare to the Immortal Heavenly Deity... Their fluke of a success this time was merely the result of the Heavenly Deity being injured. They simply picked up a bargain, they are no heroes!"

"Exactly... In truth, they must be injured themselves right now. If they have the nerve to actually come, see if your granddaddy doesn't chop them all to pieces."

"How could they? A few days ago I said there was no need to keep such a frantic guard. If it were you or me who smashed the Sacred Mountain, we would have long rewarded the army, dividing the coin and the women. Just playing with those devout female shamans who served the Heavenly Deity on the Sacred Mountain would be enough to amuse oneself for seven days and seven nights. Who would still come out to swallow the wind?"

"Those words of yours are far too disrespectful to the Immortal Heavenly Deity..."

"He's already dead, respect my foot. Those female shamans have rough skin, there's no flavor to them. When we unify the grasslands again and break through the pass, the women of the Central Plains have fine skin and tender flesh—that's where the real pleasure is... Khan, wouldn't you say so?"

Vulture Hunter-Fang drank his wine. Though he did not join in his subordinates' boasting, a smile hung upon his face.

He thought along the same lines.

As long as he found Temur and obtained his Golden Wolf technique from his body, he too could make a strike for the Breakthrough Realm, and he too could attempt to replace the Immortal Heavenly Deity.

As for Zhao Changhe, the Vermilion Bird, and the Black Tortoise, any discerning eye could see they could not long drift within the mortal world. Sooner or later, they would depart to do what deities ought to do, such as ascending to the Heavenly Realm. What would the human world matter then?

Amidst the clamor, a scout came stumbling in from outside: "Khan, Khan! Enemy attack, the en—"

"Swoosh!" A long arrow flew from nowhere, pinning the reporting scout right before the tent.

Every face turned pale. Hunter-Fang rose abruptly, only to hear the thunderous sound of hooves close in an instant. The shrieks of his own men already echoed from outside, and flames dyed the horizon crimson.

"What is the meaning of this!" Hunter-Fang rushed out, spear in hand, only to see Huangfu Qing riding through the tents, leading her host in a fierce charge.

"Clang!" Hunter-Fang raised his spear to parry, but the terrifying impact forced him back a dozen paces, only managing to steady himself when he crashed into his subordinates behind him.

Before his eyes appeared the large face of Zhao Changhe: "Khan of the Vultures, it has been a long time."

Looking upon this young man who had once found it strenuous even to connect with a single spear strike of his within the formation, Hunter-Fang was filled with disbelief. How had he found this place, and how had he inexplicably appeared in this godforsaken Vast Sea during the seven-day period of homage he himself had set? Hunter-Fang racked his brains but could not fathom it.

What he failed to understand most was this: "How could your great army suddenly appear... My vultures gave no signal at all."

"The art of truth and illusion—if the Immortal Heavenly Deity could employ it, why can I, Zhao Changhe, not?" Zhao Changhe smiled as he slashed down with his blade: "Though I cannot yet apply it to a massive army, deceiving low-intelligence fowl like vultures poses no great difficulty."

"Clang!" Hunter-Fang parried Zhao Changhe’s blade, his heart shifting slightly. This strike was far weaker than Huangfu Qing’s spear; Zhao Changhe had clearly not recovered from his injuries, and at present, he was at most a match for himself. He roared fiercely: "Zhao Changhe, what kind of hero relies on a sneak attack? If you have the ability, fight this Khan in single combat!"

"Ha..." Zhao Changhe began to laugh: "Though those words of yours are quite foolish, it is actually acceptable... Years ago, the Vulture Khan left no small psychological shadow upon me. I, too, wish to see how our battle goes today."

Hunter-Fang was overjoyed. Had this Zhao Changhe been blinded by successive victories? To actually dare a single combat—if he could capture him alive before the formation, would that not turn everything around?

"Then watch yourself, King Zhao!" A spear imbued with the entirety of Hunter-Fang’s lifelong cultivation thrust viciously toward Zhao Changhe’s face.

Zhao Changhe smiled faintly. The Divine Dragon-Sparrow pressed down against the side of the spear, shaving along the shaft.

A very basic blade technique.

Yet Hunter-Fang discovered to his horror that with this single press, no matter how he exerted his strength, he could not pull the long spear back to its proper position. He could only watch helplessly as the blade shaved toward his fingers.

What was happening? His strength was clearly ordinary, so why was his own power completely suppressed as if bound?

"This is the Breakthrough Realm's comprehension of the world's rules. It seems that I am injured and unrecovered, with similar strength, but everyone’s understanding of power is already different." Zhao Changhe spoke as if delivering a lecture, pressing down his spear while the edge rested beside his hand, staying its stroke.

Hunter-Fang did not know why Zhao Changhe held back his hand. He struggled with all his might to draw back his spear, when suddenly, wind and thunder erupted behind his head.

A battle-axe of unparalleled fury cleaved down with vicious intent.

Hunter-Fang looked back in horror, encountering the hateful, venomous eyes of Temur.

Having hidden deep within the Vast Sea for so long, he had actually not waited for Zhao Changhe to depart. Instead, he seized this moment to strike, utterly careless of the fact that striking meant his own death, appearing solely driven to personally claim Hunter-Fang’s head!

And Zhao Changhe seemed to have discovered him long ago, cooperating with Temur to leave the head for him?

Hunter-Fang wished to draw his spear but could not; he wished to evade but was pinned to the spot by Temur’s frenzied killing intent. In that mere instant, the battle-axe cleaved through, lopping off half of Hunter-Fang’s head, sending brains flying in all directions.

The vulture that wished to scavenge had its head personally shattered by the khan who was not yet dead. Its dream of rising to replace the old order dissolved entirely into the Vast Sea amidst the surrounding shouts and wails.

Zhao Changhe kicked Hunter-Fang’s corpse aside, lightly flicking his long blade: "Khan, please."

Temur glanced at Huangfu Qing, who was holding the line from the flank, and said faintly: "I have slain this scoundrel, and I die without regrets. If you strike together, I cannot withstand a single move, so why must you play the hero?"

Zhao Changhe said: "Because the Khan counts as a hero, and has the right to a more respected way to die."

Temur smiled faintly: "Zhao Changhe has risen in so short a time yet possesses so many friends; it is indeed not without reason. Then... behold the axe."

The battle-axe came howling forward. Beside them, Huangfu Qing sighed and shook her head. Even Huangfu Shaozong and the others revealed looks of lamentation.

This axe strike was too weak. He was no longer the Golden Tent Khan who once dominated the grasslands, nor the undisputed number one under heaven after Xia Longyuan's death.

In single combat, he might not even be able to defeat Vulture Hunter-Fang anymore... That axe strike which slew Hunter-Fang had already poured forth the last of his energy and spirit; once that axe was spent, he was in truth devoid of regrets.

"Qiang!" The Divine Dragon-Sparrow broke through the axe-force, slashing through with absolute solidity.

The battle-axe shattered, and blood burst forth.

The golden band upon Temur’s forehead snapped, revealing a long blade wound. He then lifted his head to look at the sky, murmuring: "My thanks. To have so many people buried with me."

The stalwart corpse crashed to the ground. Listening to the surrounding shrieks of the Vulture Tribe, he bore a smile even unto death.

Zhao Changhe looked upon Temur’s corpse and sighed softly.

The importance of some people lay in the fact that until they died, the war was not spent.

The Chronicle of the Chaotic Era refused to flash before his death, no matter how many days intervened.

Yet this battle for the nation's destiny under heaven, which had spanned nearly a month and covered the entire Divine Land and the vast northern desert, was not recorded in too much detail by the Blind Girl. She merely recounted the battle report briefly.

"In the second month, the Great Han raised three great armies, launching a two-pronged northern expedition."

"Huangfu Qing led light cavalry to gallop across the eastern desert, fighting across thousands of miles, pointing straight at the Sacred Mountain. The Immortal Heavenly Deity personally set a trap; Zhao Changhe perceived the truth and shattered the illusion. Huangfu Qing utterly routed Bo’e’s army outside the Sacred Mountain, and Xue Canghai slew Huyin Letai in the formation. The Han army advanced a hundred miles, trampling the divine temple. Zhao Changhe, Huangfu Qing, Yue Hongling, and Li Shentong jointly decapitated the Immortal Heavenly Deity to offer sacrifice, entombing him at Mount Wolf Jiuxu. Filled with utter despair, Bo’e was slain by Huangfu Qing."

"In this campaign, heaven and earth lost their color; all who fought were wounded. Zhao Changhe was exhausted of food and arrows, while Li Shentong lost an arm and was gravely injured, his cultivation temporarily lost. The ancient demon god Jiuyou secretly appeared to seize the treasure, but was thwarted by Zhao Changhe. The Jiuyou Demon God traveled a thousand miles only to be treated lightly, becoming a laughingstock among mortals."

Zhao Changhe: "?"

Jiuyou: "..."

"Second on the Heavenly List, Bo'e, has fallen."

"Third on the Human List, Huyin Letai, has fallen."

"Huangfu Yongxian crossed the great desert, Xuanwu shattered the wind and sand, and they joined battle with Temur's army in the northern wastes. Xuanwu turned the desert into marshland, rendering the cavalry useless, so they fought on foot. Batu Yingwu struck from the east, Wu Weiyang from the west, while Tujiu Lieya, scheming for his own gain, retreated from the front. Huangfu Yongxian seized the opportunity to press the attack, and the barbarian army was utterly routed. Chili fell by his own blade amid the chaos; the rest surrendered. The scattered forces fled in panic, hearing wind and crane as enemy cries, seeing grass and trees as soldiers, corpses strewn for a hundred li without end."

"Fifty-first on the Human List, the Fox Demon Chili, has fallen."

"Yingwu and Xuanwu fought Temur together; Yue Hongling's flying sword came from a thousand li, and Temur fled in defeat. Huangfu Yongxian breached the royal court, and the Golden Horde was destroyed."

"The Tujiu tribe withdrew to the Hanhai, searching for Temur in vain. On the seventh day, Huangfu Qing led a surprise attack on their camp, routing the Tujiu tribe. Tujiu Lieya challenged Zhao Changhe to a duel, but was beheaded by Temur's axe. Temur fought Zhao Changhe again; his crown shattered, his axe broke, and he died by the shores of the Hanhai."

"First on the Heavenly List, Temur, has fallen."

"Twentieth on the Earthly List, Tujiu Lieya, has fallen."

"The war between Hu and Han, lasting one month, has finally come to an end. The Heavenly, Earthly, and Human Lists have withered in a single battle."

"Two from the Heavenly List have fallen. Based on comprehensive battle achievements, the former tenth on the Heavenly List, Zhao Changhe, advances to first; the rest fill the ranks in order."

"First on the Heavenly List, Zhao Changhe."

"Watering horses at the Hanhai, sealing the wolf at Mount Langjuxu. To the west, the great river was tamed; commanderies were established at Qilian."

As he wrote the last two lines, the Blind Man looked up at the sky.

On this day, it had been merely two and a half years since Zhao Changhe crossed into this world.

[End of Volume Eight]

Volume Nine: Snow on Kunlun