The Golden Family, rising from the Western Regions

Chapter 360 The Collapse of Central Asian Power Under the Rise of Qin
The grasslands of Bhahanna stretch endlessly, and as the evening breeze blows, the waves of grass roll and surge toward the horizon.

The distant snow-capped peaks of the Tianshan Mountains gleamed with a cold light under the setting sun, and even the cries of the returning geese carried a touch of desolation.

The tents of the royal camp were sparsely pitched on the grassland, and the guards who used to patrol were now few and far between.

Most of the troops were transferred to Chaqi, leaving only a few hundred soldiers to guard the camp, which looked particularly deserted.

Princess Hunhu, wearing a fox fur cloak, stood in front of her tent, her eyes fixed on the direction of Chaqi in the north, her brows furrowed.

Her maid, Ulan, handed her a cup of hot milk tea and gently advised, "Princess, it's getting late and windy. Why don't you go back to your tent and wait?"

"Your Majesty is blessed with good fortune and will surely return safely."

"You're back safely?"

Hunhu took the milk tea, his fingertips touching the warm cup, but he had no appetite for it. He just sighed softly, his voice full of melancholy.

“I had often heard people say that the people of northern Xinjiang are very powerful, fierce and barbaric, and they don’t care about their lives when they fight.”

"Moreover, Li Xiao has been fighting for many years and has a group of capable and skilled generals under his command."

"This battle... is probably going to be tough."

She looked down at the milk tea in her cup, the ripples reflecting the worry in her eyes.

"Moreover, Father's leg injury has not fully healed, and this time he will have to ride a horse again. What if something goes wrong in the chaos of battle?"

The thought of the Northern Frontier Army's style made Hunhu furious, and he stomped his foot hard.

"Those people from northern Xinjiang are so unreasonable."

"That bastard Li Xiao! Back then, Father only spared the Northern Frontier because of our kinship, giving him a chance to regroup. Now he's actually turning around and attacking the Liao?"

"He still dares to call himself the King of Qin? I don't acknowledge him as my uncle."

She became more and more agitated as she spoke, even spilling a few drops of milk tea from her hand: "If Father can come back this time, I must persuade him that he can no longer be soft on the people of the Northern Frontier, and that he must deal with them in the toughest way possible."

The internal propaganda of Qin and Liao must have been different. The news that Hunhu had heard before was all about how the Liao army had won.

Although the people of the northern frontier were brave and skilled in battle, they were still defeated one after another under the wise command of the emperor.

Ultimately, it was only because the emperor considered family ties and his leg injury had worsened that he had no choice but to withdraw his troops.

Therefore, Princess Hunhu always believed that while the people of the Northern Frontier were indeed formidable, the Liao Kingdom was no less so.

This war is at least a 50/50 affair.

Ulan quickly handed over a handkerchief and comforted her, "Princess, please calm down. His Majesty has been leading troops for many years and will surely come up with a solution. Let's not dwell on this."

"By the way, I heard a few days ago that Sultan Osman of the Western Karakhanid Khanate had previously asked His Majesty for a marriage proposal."

"I wanted to marry you as my princess, but His Majesty refused."

Mentioning marriage, Hunhu frowned, his tone clearly showing disdain: "Ottoman?"

"That old man in his forties with a full beard?"

"He was panting heavily when he spoke, and he couldn't even ride a horse steadily. Father Emperor was right to refuse; I will never marry him!"

She looked up at the eagles soaring in the distance, her eyes revealing a hint of anticipation and longing.

"If I'm going to marry, I'll marry a great hero who stands tall and upright."

"At the very least, he should be a man like my father, capable of riding horses and fighting, able to protect the Liao Dynasty. Even if he can't be like him, he should at least be a man who dares to charge and fight, and who won't let me suffer any injustice."

“The princess is right.”

Ulan smiled and chimed in, "Our princess is so beautiful and kind-hearted, she'll definitely marry a great hero."

"By the way, a few days ago you said you wanted to learn riding and archery, saying that you would be able to protect yourself if you learned it. Why don't I accompany you to the grasslands to practice tomorrow morning?"

Hunhu's eyes darkened slightly, and he nodded gently: "You do need to practice riding and archery well."

"Father is still fighting in Chaqi, and the camp is so empty. If the people from the north attack, with our limited manpower, we won't even be able to hold it..."

Since we can't hold on, we have no choice but to run.

Before she could finish speaking, the sound of rapid hoofbeats suddenly came from afar. Hunhu gripped her cloak tightly, her heart pounding. "Is Father Emperor back?"

Ulan also tensed up and followed Hunhu's gaze, only to see more than a dozen cavalrymen galloping toward the camp, their banners being the black wolf flag of the Liao Kingdom.

"They are our people."

“It must be a scout sent back by His Majesty to deliver the news,” Ulan said with delight.

Hunhu breathed a sigh of relief, a smile spreading across his face, and was about to go forward.

But when the leading cavalryman dismounted, his knees buckled and he almost knelt down. His face was as pale as paper, and even his voice trembled.

"Princess...Princess, something terrible has happened."

“All the mountain passes in Chaqi have been lost.”

"Your Majesty... Your Majesty is fleeing towards Ferghana, pursued by the cavalry of the Northern Frontier Army. The situation is critical."

The milk tea cup in her hand crashed to the ground with a "clatter," the hot liquid splashing onto her skirt, but she was completely unaware, only feeling that the blood in her body had turned cold.

"Chachi is missing? Father...how is he? Is he injured?"

"Princess, rest assured."

The cavalryman hurriedly replied, his tone revealing his panic: "With General Tayanggu and his personal guards protecting His Majesty, His Majesty is temporarily safe."

"But... but His Majesty ordered us to rush back to Ferghana as fast as we could and to order the royal court to move immediately."

As he spoke, he took out Yelü Zhilugu's warrant.

"Transfer?"

Hunhu's pupils contracted, and he pressed, "Where are we being moved to? Did Father say anything?"

The cavalryman lowered his head, his voice weakening: "We don't know... His Majesty only said to let the royal court move first, and he would arrive shortly after."

Hunhu's heart sank instantly, but she had no time to panic.

She suddenly let go of his hand, turned around and ran towards her mother's tent: "Ulan, come with me, quick!"

Inside the tent, Hunhu's mother, Timurhani, was adjusting her headdress in front of a bronze mirror. When Hunhu burst in, his face still showing panic, she quickly stood up: "Hunhu? What's wrong? Why are you in such a hurry?"

"Mother concubine."

Hunhu rushed to Timur Khanni and spoke rapidly: "Chachi is lost. Father is on his way back. He wants our royal court to be moved immediately."

“But he didn’t say where he was going. You should pack your things quickly, I’ll go and inform Shi Liezhu (a Khitan official title).

Timur Khani's jade hairpin fell to the ground with a "thud," and his face instantly turned deathly pale.

She grabbed Hunhu's hand, her voice trembling: "Chaqi is lost? Then what about your father... what about his leg injury? Will the people from the northern frontier come after us?"

She became increasingly panicked as she spoke, tears welling up in her eyes: "We have so much stuff, how can we possibly pack it all up in time?"

"Mother, now is not the time to panic."

Hunhu took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down: "Pick up the important things first, throw away jewelry and clothes if you can, saving your life is the most important thing."

"I'm going to see Lord Shi Lie. Please have someone prepare."

After saying that, she turned and rushed out of the tent, running towards Shi Liezhu's camp.

Yelü Moge, the Shilie ruler who remained in the royal court, was an old general nearing sixty. He had already learned of the news brought by the scouts. His brows were furrowed, but he did not panic.

"Princess, rest assured, this old minister will immediately issue the order to have the guards maintain order, and the herdsmen travel light and gather on the south side of the camp in an hour."

He turned to his personal guards and said, "Go and strike the gong to tell everyone that the Northern Frontier Army is about to arrive. Those who don't want to die should pack their things and move with the royal court."

The clanging of the gong shattered the tranquility of the grassland.

When the herdsmen of Wangting heard the news, they were immediately in an uproar.

The woman holding her child squatted on the ground, wailing, while tightly clutching half a piece of uneaten naan bread in her hand.

Several herders rushed into the tent, hastily stuffing sheepskin coats and silver ornaments into cloth bags, then, as if remembering something, ran out again, trying to herd the cattle and sheep tied outside the tent.

Some people stood there, staring blankly, muttering "Impossible."

"Chachi is lost? How is that possible!"

An old herdsman with a wrinkled face leaned on a cane and shakily grabbed the guard beside him.

"With General Yelü Xiuduo guarding Chaqi and so many troops, how could it have been defeated by the northern people? Did you send the wrong message?"

The guard looked grim and shook his head: "Uncle, the news is correct. Both the North Pass and the South Pass have been lost, and General Hudu... has also died in battle."

"Died in battle?"

The old herdsman staggered back a step, his cane falling to the ground with a thud: "General Hudor is a veteran who fought alongside the late emperor!"

"Even he... Just what kind of monsters are the people of Northern Xinjiang?"

A young herdsman standing nearby, his face flushed with anxiety, shouted at his wife who was packing their things, "Don't take those jewelry pieces!"

“If the people from the northern border catch up with us, we won’t live to enjoy any amount of jewelry.”

"We just moved here from Chuhe last year, why are we running away again?"

"Can the Liao Dynasty... still protect us?"

His wife, wiping away tears, threw the cloth bundle onto the horse's back: "What can I do?"

“We can’t leave the child behind. If we had known the people of the Northern Frontier were so fierce, we shouldn’t have come to Chahan with Wang Tingqian in the first place.”

"The people from the northern frontier are coming to kill us. Quickly pack your things."

"Forget about the pots and pans, just bring some dry food and a money bag."

"What about my cattle and sheep? That's half a year's worth of food for my family!"

Another woman was holding the sheep's rope, stamping her feet in distress. The sheep seemed to sense the panic and kept bleating.

The man next to him pulled him back, his voice urgent and helpless: "You're about to lose your life, what are you worried about, cattle and sheep?"

“If people from northern Xinjiang come, not only will you lose your cattle and sheep, but you’ll also lose your lives. Come with me quickly, and we’ll figure out how to raise new ones once things are more stable.”

Amid the chaos, Yelü Moge led his guards back and forth, loudly maintaining order: "Don't cause any trouble. Anyone who dares to cause trouble will be dealt with according to military law."

Just then, the sound of horses' hooves came from afar, and amidst the rising dust, Yelü Zhilugu's figure appeared on the horizon.

He was pale and dressed in the clothes of a common soldier. Tayangu followed behind him, his armor still stained with blood.

"His Majesty has returned."

The people gasped in surprise, their panic subsiding slightly.

Yelü Zhilugu dismounted, his left leg slightly limping, clearly his leg injury had worsened. Supported by his personal guards, he walked to Yelü Moge, his voice hoarse: "Moge, issue the order: the royal court is to relocate to Hezhong Prefecture." "Hezhong Prefecture?"

Yelü Moge was taken aback, then realized what he meant and said, "Yes, this old minister will arrange it immediately."

Samarkand, formerly known as Transoxiana, was the capital of the Western Karakhanid Khanate.

After Yelü Dashi conquered the Western Karakhanid Khanate, he established officials and troops there.

It was both the capital of the Western Karakhanid Khanate and a hub for the Liao Dynasty to control the south and west.

Now that Bahanna can no longer be defended, the only way to stabilize the situation is to go to Hezhong Prefecture and rely on its military strength and city defenses.

Hunhu quickly stepped forward and supported Yelü Zhilugu's arm: "Father, are you alright?"

Is your leg injury serious?

Yelü Zhilugu waved his hand and explained, panting, "I'm fine."

He looked at the chaotic herdsmen, his eyes filled with exhaustion: "Let's hurry, or the Northern Frontier Army's pursuers will arrive."

Timur Khanni also rushed over with her maids. Seeing Yelü Zhilugu return safely, she finally felt relieved, but couldn't help but shed tears.

"Your Majesty, how much longer must we flee?"

Yelü Zhilugu did not answer, but patted her hand and turned to Yelü Moge, saying, "Give the order to depart."

The guards led the way, and the people, young and old, followed behind. The long procession moved slowly across the grassland, heading towards Hezhong Prefecture.

Meanwhile, Transoxiana, the ancient city known as Samarkand, is bathed in the warm Central Asian sun, radiating the dazzling light of the "Pearl of Central Asia."

Looking out from the city gate, the architecture of Chahar is full of rich Central Asian style.

The earthen-yellow rammed earth city wall is three zhang high, with dark green glazed tiles adorning the crenellations. Above the city gate is an arched structure, carved with intertwined grapevines and geometric patterns in the Persian style.

The streets were bustling with people, showcasing a vibrant blend of diverse cultures.

A Persian merchant wearing a white turban and carrying a satchel full of silk is haggling with a Uyghur merchant in a long robe.

A Karluk herdsman with a full beard led several sturdy horses, loudly hawking them at the horse market.

There were also women dressed in Gur clothing, carrying baskets full of spices, moving among the fruit stalls, where pomegranates, grapes, and figs were piled up like small mountains, their colors bright and vibrant.

In the center of the market, several street performers were putting on a show, surrounded by onlookers. Laughter and applause filled the air, completely obscuring the tension of the distant battlefield.

After passing through the bustling market, you arrive at the palace of the Western Karakhanid Khanate.

Inside the main hall, Sultan Osman ibn Ibrahim of the Western Karakhanid Khanate sat on his gilded throne, his brow furrowed.

He was nearly forty, with a thin face and a tired look in his eyes, yet also a hint of resentment.

As the Sultan of the Western Karakhanid Khanate, he dedicated his life to the Khanate's independence, but now his situation is becoming increasingly difficult.

"Although the people of the Northern Frontier were once vassals of the Liao Dynasty, they were able to rise to power in just over a decade and even dare to confront the Liao Dynasty head-on. Their courage and methods are truly astonishing."

Minister Muhammad looked at Osman and said with a touch of emotion, "When they broke free from Liao control, their military strength was not necessarily stronger than ours is now, but they were able to grow stronger step by step."

“We should learn from them, first secretly accumulate strength, and then look for an opportunity to completely break free from the control of the Liao and Khwarazmian Empires.”

Prime Minister Ahma shook his head, his tone grave: "It's easy for Muhammad to say. The people of the North have a leader like Li Xiao, whose soldiers are fearless and who have cannons that are rumored to be able to flatten mountains."

"What about us?"

"Although the Sultan is more brilliant and powerful than Li Xiao, our forces are less than 30,000. We must always be wary of the Liao spies in the capital. If we make any move, we may be wiped out before we can grow stronger."

Osman remained silent, his fingertips gently stroking the armrest of the throne.

Muhammad's words struck a chord with him. Over the years, he had been secretly training his own army and contacting neighboring tribes, but he had never dared to make any major moves.

He looked up at his ministers and said in a deep voice, "Even if it is difficult, we must fight for it. My Karakhanid Khanate is the legitimate successor of the Black Khanate. How can it be controlled by other countries forever?"

But just as he finished speaking, a series of hurried footsteps suddenly came from outside the hall, and a personal guard rushed in to report, his face as pale as paper.

"Sultan, something terrible has happened."

The guard knelt down with a thud, his voice trembling uncontrollably.

"General Arslan... General Arslan's army was ambushed by the northern barbarians in Seran and was completely wiped out."

"General Arslan... also died in battle."

"what?"

Osman suddenly stood up from his throne, nearly causing his gilded crown to slip off.

He strode down the steps, grabbed his bodyguard by the collar, his eyes sharp as knives, and said in a trembling voice, "Say it again."

"Arslan's entire army of ten thousand is gone?"

The scout trembled with fear and nodded, choking back tears: "It's...it's true."

"The soldiers who escaped from Seran said that the northerners first used artillery to break their formation, and then sent armored soldiers to charge. Our soldiers couldn't stop them at all..."

"General Arslan led his personal guards in a desperate battle, but in the end, he was beheaded by the people of the northern frontier..."

With a loud "boom," the hall erupted in chaos.

Muhammad staggered back a step, bumping into a pillar behind him to steady himself, his voice trembling: "Ten thousand soldiers... just like that, gone?"

"Those are half of our Karakhanid Khanate's elite troops!"

"Without Arslan and this army, how will we resist the northern invaders? How will we defend against Khwarezm?"

Ahma's face was deathly pale, his hands gripping the hem of his court robes tightly as he murmured, "It's over... it's really all over now."

"With Arslan dead, the Qierman defense line is practically non-existent. If the Northern Frontier forces advance along Qierman towards Hezhong Prefecture, we won't even have time to prepare."

The ministers began to stir, some with expressions of despair, others muttering curses.

A young minister rushed forward, bowed to Osman, and said, "Your Majesty, we cannot sit idly by and wait for our doom."

"We should immediately send someone to see Sultan Muhammad of Khwarazm, agree to their conditions, and ask them to send troops to help us resist the northern invaders."

"Confused."

Ottoman abruptly released the scout and shouted angrily, "Who is Muhammad?"

"He'd love for our country to fall so he can seize the opportunity to annex Samarkand. If we go to him now, wouldn't that be like inviting a wolf into our house?"

Despite saying this, his voice trembled slightly—Arslan's complete annihilation was like a bucket of cold water, extinguishing the hope that had just been ignited in his heart.

He walked to the center of the hall, looked at the panicked officials, took a deep breath, and suppressed the shock and panic in his heart: "Calm down, everyone."

"Although Arslan is dead, there are still 20,000 troops in the Hezhong Prefecture. As long as we hold the capital and send people to contact the surrounding tribes for help, we may still have a fighting chance."

But the ministers all knew that this was just self-comfort.

Ahma sighed, his voice low: "Your Majesty, the surrounding tribes have long been won over by Khwarazm and may not come to our aid."

"The people of the Northern Frontier were able to wipe out Arslan's 10,000-strong army in a single day. If they really attack, how long can our 20,000 defenders hold out?"

Osman clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white and his fingernails almost dug into his palms.
He spent his entire life struggling for the independence of the Western Karakhanid Khanate, but now, even the last of his elite troops are gone. Is everything he has painstakingly built up going to be destroyed under the iron hooves of the northern people?

Perhaps, surrender to the northern frontier?
The Western Karakhanid Khanate had always been subservient to the strong, first the Liao Dynasty, and then the Khwarazmian Empire.

Now that the people of Northern Xinjiang have risen to power, it's not a big deal for them to submit to them.

Moreover, it can take over the power of the people of the northern frontier and break free from the control of the Liao and Khwarazmian Empire over Hezhong Prefecture.

The more Ottoman thought about it, the more feasible it seemed.

After all, the Western Karakhanid Khanate was most famous not for its military prowess, but for its unique foreign policy.

It repeatedly oscillates between powerful nations.

However, to Osman's surprise, just two days later, news came from the front that Qierman had been captured.

"Qi'er Man has fallen for it?"

Osman suddenly opened his eyes, his heart clenching: "Are they from the Northern Frontier? They moved so quickly?"

Qirman was a major northern town of the Western Karakhanid Khanate, not far from Seran, so Ottoman's first reaction was that it was the people of the northern frontier who did it.

The scout shook his head frantically: "They're not from the Northern Frontier, they're...they're from Khwarezm."

"Timur's army launched a sudden attack. The defenders of Qirman, numbering less than a thousand, were no match for them. After the city fell, the Khwarazmians continued to plunder the people."

"Khwarizm?"

Osman was struck dumb, staring at the scout in disbelief, his voice trembling with rage: "That scoundrel, Muhammad."

“Just a few days ago I was thinking of keeping to myself and not interfering with him, but he took advantage of the fact that my Karakhanid army was weak and stabbed me in the back.”

Muhammad was also shocked and turned pale: "The Khwarazmians are so audacious! Aren't they afraid that the Liao Kingdom will retaliate when it recovers?"

"revenge?"

Osman suddenly burst into laughter, his laughter filled with sorrow and anger: "The Liao people are now barely able to protect themselves, being chased like stray dogs by the people of the Northern Frontier. How can they possibly have the strength to care about our lives?"

“Mahama has been waiting for this day for a long time.”

"He has been coveting Hezhong Prefecture for more than a day or two. He didn't dare to make a move before because of the Liao Kingdom. Now that my Karakhanid Kingdom has lost 10,000 elite troops and the Liao Kingdom is also being restrained, he has shown his fangs."

“Well done, what a great ‘Great Sultan Muhammad’!”

"What a bunch of treacherous Persian bastards."

Hearing Ottoman's angry curses and roars, Ahma said in a trembling voice, "Your Majesty, with the fall of Qarman, the Khwarazmian army is only a dozen days' journey from Transoxiana."

Osman suddenly looked up, his eyes bloodshot, his voice as if squeezed out from between his teeth: "Escape? I am the Sultan of the Karakhanid Khanate, the rightful descendant of the Karakhanid Dynasty. Even if I die, I will die in Transoxiana."

He turned to his ministers, his tone resolute and determined: "Issue my order to summon all able-bodied men in the capital, even herdsmen and merchants, to take up arms."

"Send someone to see Yelü Zhilugu again and tell him that Khwarazm has already made its move. If he does not want to be attacked from both sides by the Northern Frontier and Khwarazm, he should immediately transfer the Liao army from Hezhong Prefecture to defend the city with us."

What he didn't know was that Yelü Zhilugu was in dire straits himself and was leading his remaining troops toward Hezhong Prefecture.

They prepared to join forces with the Liao army in Hezhong Prefecture and take command of the Western Karakhanid army, and put up a stubborn resistance.

Within a hundred miles of him, a white wave was rising on the horizon.

"Drive! Drive! Drive!"

The dull thud of hooves echoed like thunder across the grassland.

The cavalry of the Third Garrison of the Northern Frontier, clad in white flags and white armor, surged towards Hezhong Prefecture like a white torrent.

The cavalrymen, with scimitars at their waists and spears in their hands, wore expressions of fearlessness. The dust kicked up by their horses' hooves blotted out the sky, turning even the sunlight grayish-white.

(End of this chapter)