Chapter 21: The Chanyu’s Flight

"Hey, kid, which way to the Xiongnu royal court?"

A ferocious halberd rested on his shoulder, with warm droplets of blood still trickling down its length.

The youth trembled violently, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his bundle. He stiffened and turned around, staring blankly at the man atop the towering warhorse.

The man’s armor was stained with blood, and the smile playing on his cheeks was as warm as the morning sun, yet the icy glint in his eyes was bone-chilling.

"Th-that way," the youth stammered, gesturing vaguely toward the west.

"Thanks."

Chen Cong pulled on his reins, ready to spur his horse, but suddenly felt that something was amiss. He lightly tapped his mount, Jueying, and slowly retreated until he was directly in front of the youth.

This person...

His messy, long hair obscured his face, making it impossible to distinguish if he was Han or Xiongnu by his features alone.

However, his accent was quite awkward; it sounded as if he had a stone in his mouth—a typical foreign accent when speaking the Han tongue. He was covered in mud from head to toe, and his robe was riddled with holes.

But...

Would a Han commoner living in Meiji be qualified to wear a long robe? No matter how you looked at it, this appearance of utter destitution seemed intentionally crafted.

As it happened, Chen Cong had a father-in-law who was an expert at "disguising a shark as a shrimp" and "decisively slipping away when the situation turned sour," so he was well-versed in these tricks.

"What is your name?"

"Liu, Liu Bao."

Chen Cong understood.

A big fish indeed!

The current Liu Bao did not show anything particularly outstanding, but he had the advantage of having good genes. His future son, Liu Yuan, would be the first Hu person in history to declare himself emperor on Han soil, the founder of Han-Zhao, and the true heavyweight who kicked off the era of the Sixteen Kingdoms!

Of course, that had a direct connection to the incompetence of the Sima family of the Western Jin Dynasty.

Chen Cong couldn't be bothered to argue about right and wrong, but he was exceptionally proficient at nipping such threats in the bud.

He thrust his great halberd forward. The ferocious tip and side-blade of the Flying Tiger Halberd passed clean through Liu Bao’s chest and emerged from his back. As the weapon was withdrawn, it tore out a large mass of flesh, leaving behind a clear, gaping blood-hole.

Backflow of blood surged up, clogging Liu Bao’s nose and mouth. He struggled to widen his eyes, trying to see the man on the horse clearly, but the light in his own eyes faded rapidly.

Until the very last moment, as the world turned to gray, he still could not comprehend why he had suffered such a disaster despite his disguise and the use of a Han name.

What he did not know was this:

Had he shown less petty cunning and reported his true Xiongnu name, "Luan-Ti Bao," at the very start, Chen Cong might not have even remembered who he was. Coupled with the favor of pointing the way, he might actually have survived.

"Uh... General, he was just an unarmed boy..." Xu Huang felt somewhat uneasy.

"Gongming."

"I am here, General."

Chen Cong casually flicked the gore from his Flying Tiger Halberd and said indifferently, "I am not Guan Yu."

Xu Huang did not understand. "May I ask, General, who is this Guan Yu?"

Chen Cong could not be bothered to explain to Xu Huang, nor was he afraid that Liu Bao had deceived him. He turned his reins and spurred his horse toward the west.

The surroundings were in chaos, and finding a reliable source of information was too difficult. Rather than blindly searching everywhere, it was better to try his luck in the west—what if Liu Bao had actually been a "filial son" who told the truth?

If worse came to worst, he could just fight his way west and find a Han commoner to ask for directions.

It hadn't been obvious from outside the city, but once inside, it became clear that Meiji County was vastly different from traditional Central Plain cities.

The interior was chaotic and lacked any organization; most of the dwellings were felt tents, and livestock wandered through the streets, adding to the disorder. At a glance, it was impossible to distinguish the important areas from the rest.

At the end of the main street stood not the Xiongnu royal court, but a massive carved wooden pillar draped with colorful knotted ropes, looking like some sort of religious object.

Meanwhile, just as Chen Cong had anticipated:

The surprise attack on Meiji was such that once he broke into the city, his hundred Flying Bear cavalrymen were essentially killing everywhere they went.

It was no exaggeration to say that the Xiongnu were a nation of soldiers.

This had its advantages and disadvantages.

The advantages needed no mentioning, but the disadvantage was that there was no traditional garrison in Meiji. When there was no war, the warriors of the tribe returned to their homes, enjoying themselves by embracing women and whipping slaves.

This wasn't apparent when the Xiongnu went south to raid, but it proved fatal when defending the city.

They were unable to mobilize effectively in a short time. They could only fight on their own, and a considerable number of them even found that their warhorses, tied in front of their tents, had broken their tethers and run off in a panic. Xiongnu cavalrymen without horses were no different from lambs awaiting slaughter before the Flying Bears.

A single stray arrow or a shot from a hand-crossbow was enough to end their lives.

In the time Chen Cong had spent charging through with the Flying Bears, he hadn't encountered even a shred of decent resistance.

...

Inside the royal court.

Yufuluo had gathered over two thousand fierce warriors from inside and outside the city, standing in battle formation for a long time, yet they never heard the sounds of battle approaching.

He looked at the messenger with suspicion, his heart growing increasingly doubtful.

"You kept insisting that the Han army had entered the city and was charging straight for the royal court. Where are they?"

The messenger wiped cold sweat from his forehead and said tremblingly, "Great Chanyu, the Han people are ferocious. Perhaps it would be better to flee first."

"Bullshit! The Han people are weak sheep; what chance do they have once they charge into a pack of wolves? They have likely been slaughtered to the last man by our warriors by now. 'Ferocious Han people'? That is clearly just an excuse you, a coward, made up because you were afraid before the fight even began! Guards, bind him and offer him as a blood sacrifice to Eternal Heaven!"

Yufuluo was furious. The messenger knelt in terror, shouting incessantly, "Great Chanyu, the Han people are truly ferocious! The hundreds of Xiongnu warrior corpses outside the east gate are proof!"

"Bind him and take him out!" Yufuluo waved his hand impatiently, then looked at the two kings. "Consolidate the warriors and go out to meet the enemy!"

Left Worthy King Huchuquan had no objections.

The Xiongnu held the left side in high esteem; in fact, the Left Worthy King was the number one man under the Chanyu, usually held by the Chanyu's successor.

As Yufuluo’s own brother, Huchuquan had a certain degree of autonomy, but most of the time he followed Yufuluo’s lead.

Right Worthy King Qubei finished the mare's milk wine in his bowl, set it down, and tightened the curved blade at his waist.

He said, "The Chanyu is suppressing the rebellion; I will not interfere."

The Xiongnu were a regime formed by a confederation of tribes.

When there was profit to be made, they temporarily submitted to the Chanyu's unified command. As for whether they listened to the Chanyu in daily life—the small tribes naturally had to, but for the large tribes, it was entirely a matter of mood.

Yufuluo was enraged. "Qubei, do you intend to defy my orders?"

Qubei was no fool. He had already sensed that something was strange about the messenger earlier.

A dignified Xiongnu warrior, terrified by a mere hundred Han soldiers, sweating profusely—the matter was clearly not simple.

Furthermore, he had not missed the sight of Luan-Ti Bao tearing his robes and sneaking away earlier.

If the Chanyu’s own son had run away, why should he, an external king, wade through this muddy water?

He immediately tightened his sheepskin coat, gave a perfunctory bow to Yufuluo, and turned to leave the royal court without saying a word.

Yufuluo was so angry he could chew iron. Just as he was about to lash out again, another messenger arrived.

"Great Chanyu, the Han people are ferocious. Our warriors in the city cannot hold them back. While the Han army has turned west, let us flee through the east gate."

Yufuluo hesitated.

He recognized the man—Atinaru, one of the few truly fierce warriors in the tribe.

At this moment, Atinaru was bathed in blood, his left hand severed at the wrist, and three arrows were stuck in his back, his blood soaking his clothes.

"Ati, the royal court still has two thousand warriors. Can they not hold back a mere hundred Han riders?"

Atinaru turned his head away in shame and anger, unable to look Yufuluo in the eye.

He gritted his teeth and said, "We cannot hold them back."

Having said this, the mix of shame and his grievous wounds took their toll, and with eyes wide open in rage, he breathed his last.