The Golden Family, rising from the Western Regions

Chapter 370 Bloodstained Prisoner-of-War Camp, Slaughtering Squid in the Western Regions

As night deepened, the stench of blood still lingered in Samarkand, but outside the golden tent, the generals' excitement had overshadowed their earlier somber mood.

The enormous wealth they seized gave them even more confidence for their subsequent conquests of the Western Regions.

The decision to eliminate the Yehudi also put their worries about "theocratic infiltration" to rest.

Meanwhile, the prisoner-of-war camps east of Samarkand presented a completely different picture of hell on earth.

The muddy ground was covered with excrement, garbage, and dried bloodstains. Several tattered tents stood askew, offering no protection against the howling wind and rain.

Most of the prisoners of war were dressed in thin, tattered clothes, huddled in the corners of tents or in the open mud. Some were weeping softly, while others stared blankly at the sky. From time to time, coughs and groans could be heard.

This is a prisoner-of-war camp, a cage for men, a corner forgotten by the world.

As for the women, they were placed in the north of the city, closer to the Qin army camp, where their misery was another kind of unspoken, subtle misery.

Despite being in dire straits, a "mini-society" was quietly forming in the prisoner-of-war camp.

People of different ethnicities subconsciously gather together.

The Uyghurs occupied one corner, while the remnants of the Khitan army huddled silently in another corner, and the Sogdians, who were the most numerous, were divided into countless small groups.

The boundaries between ethnic groups are clearly visible, and conflicts occasionally break out over a piece of clean ground or a mouthful of dirty water.

The Qin soldiers simply kept watch from a distance, and as long as no one dared to rush out, they didn't bother to interfere in these "internal struggles."

In the far corner of the prisoner-of-war camp, a few Yehudi people stood out as particularly "special".

Although they were also dressed in tattered clothes, they were not as disheveled as the others. Instead, they sat around a relatively dry stone, holding a few pieces of hard, dry naan bread in their hands, their eyes full of calculation.

"Hungry...my grandson is starving to death..."

An elderly Sogdian prisoner, dragging his ailing body, shakily pulled a well-worn guitar from his bosom.

"Please, just give me half a naan bread, just half a piece..."

The leading Yehudi glanced at the jitar, then at the old prisoner's gaunt face, a cold smile playing on his lips: "Half a naan? Old man, don't you know the current market price?"

He held up the naan bread in his hand and waved it in front of the old prisoner: "Now in this camp, a naan bread costs fifty guitars, not a penny less."

"Fifty Gitars?"

The old prisoner's eyes widened instantly, his voice trembling: "You...how could you be so dark?"

“These naan breads were clearly distributed by the people of Northern Xinjiang yesterday, and everyone got a share, but my rations were taken away. Why do you have so much?”

Fifty guitars would be a huge sum of money even under normal circumstances, let alone now that most of their wealth has been plundered by the Qin army.

Only a few individuals hid some coins and evaded the Qin army's search.

However, the hard currency in the POW camp was still these food rations.

The Qin army only ensured they wouldn't starve to death, giving them a little bit each day.

As for how to distribute them after they're distributed, that's beyond our control.

"Your food rations were taken away because you were useless."

“These rations were distributed to us by the people of northern Xinjiang. I can do with them however I want.”

Squid's face darkened: "Just one? You want to trade it for a naan? Get lost, don't delay my business."

The old prisoner slumped to the ground and cried out in despair, "You bunch of ingrates!"

"When you first arrived in Samarkand, you had no money and nowhere to stay. Who found you shops? Who lent you money to tide you over?"

"Now that everyone is in trouble, not only do you not help, but you're also taking the opportunity to raise prices. Have you lost your conscience?"

"conscience?"

The squid scoffed, and the surrounding Yehudi people joined in the laughter: "Can conscience feed you? Blame yourself for being useless and not being able to grab more food."

"We managed to save up these naan breads because of our own skill. If you're so capable, go ahead and steal them!"

The other prisoners of war watched this scene with a mixture of anger and helplessness, but none of them bothered to interfere.

They knew that these Yehudi were extremely shrewd and vengeful.

They may not remember anyone who has been kind to them, but they will certainly remember anyone who has wronged them.

As long as these Yehudi don't provoke him, no one will bother with his business.

The squid people, naturally, bully the weak and fear the strong. They dare not offend those powerful people, and only dare to steal the food of those who seem easy to bully, and then sell it at a high price to squeeze out what little wealth others have left.

The old man pleaded desperately, pointing to the frail child behind him.

The Yehudi man simply waved his hand impatiently, as if shooing away flies: "What do I care if your child is hungry? The Lord's gifts are for those who understand their value."

Even more despicable was the fact that prisoners of war from other ethnic groups, unable to bear the hunger any longer, tried to exchange their treasured possessions, perhaps the last things they had taken from corpses, for food.

As the Yehudi greedily accepted the food, they would mutter, "Remember, it is in the Lord's light that we have shown you mercy and given you the chance to live."

As the squid men's "business" flourished, the price of food in the prisoner-of-war camp also rose accordingly.

In just three days, the price of a naan bread rose from fifty guilders to two hundred guilders, and later even jewelry and furs were needed to exchange for a single bite.

Starving corpses were everywhere in the camp, and some prisoners of war lay in the mud, their fingers still clutching empty money bags.

Some lay prostrate beside the Yehudi stones, begging for half a naan bread before they died, only to be met with the squid people's scorn and ridicule.

Just then, Shamash returned excitedly from outside.

He stepped over the corpses on the ground and walked to the Squid Man. Looking at the prisoners of war who had starved to death in the camp, his face remained expressionless, as if the tragic scene before him was just an ordinary sight.

He raised his hand to his chest and whispered to the sky, "Almighty Lord, have mercy on these poor souls and guide them toward the light..."

But after he finished reading, he didn't even lift his eyelids, turned around and smiled at the squid man, "I have good news for you."

A large group of squid-men immediately surrounded them, their eyes filled with anticipation.

Shamash cleared his throat, his tone deliberately solemn, as if he were preaching: "Today I saw many generals from the northern frontier."

"After my persuasion, the generals are now willing to bask in the Lord's glory. More importantly, the generals are prepared to let us Yehudi people manage these hundreds of thousands of prisoners of war."

Upon hearing this, all the squid people instantly became excited.

"Managing all the prisoners of war?"

"really?"

"Even the generals of the northern frontier are willing to follow our Squid Cult?"

"Lord! This is a gift from the Lord."

A Yehudi immediately knelt down, clasped his hands together, and said in a trembling voice, “Thank God, we Yehudi have finally seen a turning point.”

"Managing prisoners of war?"

Another squid-man's eyes lit up, and he rubbed his hands together, laughing, "Then wouldn't we be able to set our own grain prices?"

"At that time, even if a single naan costs 500,000 guildats, these prisoners of war will still buy it."

"Not buying? Let them starve to death."

The people around him echoed, their tone full of resentment: "That's right, we Yehudi people have suffered for thousands of years, driven away and slaughtered, and they owe us all of this."

"Now the Lord has given us the power to make amends to us, which is what we deserve."

“These mortals are atoning for our sins with the Yahud and with the Lord.”

"Thank God."

The crowd shouted in unison, their voices sounding particularly jarring in the desolate prisoner-of-war camp.

None of them mentioned the gratitude for the "trust" shown by the people of northern Xinjiang. Instead, they attributed all the power to "the guidance of the Lord," as if Li Xiao's decision was merely a trivial compensation for the "suffering" of the Yehudi people.

Seeing the crowd's fervent expressions, Shamash's own ambition was also ignited.

Although it was only the power to manage prisoners of war, it was enough for the Yehudi to gain a foothold in Samarkand.

"Brothers, don't underestimate this power. We can use the management of prisoners of war to secretly gather our people and accumulate wealth. When we find an opportunity in the future, we can then control the religion in the northern frontier."

"At that time, with the help of the iron cavalry of the northern frontier, we will be able to reclaim our homeland and establish a nation belonging to the Yehudi people."

"Restore the nation! Restore the nation!"

The crowd grew increasingly excited as they shouted, as if they could already see the Yehudi people ruling over the Western Regions.

Shamash raised his hand to signal everyone to be quiet, his eyes gleaming with calculation: "Now, go and call all your relatives and friends, all the Yehudi people here immediately."

“Tell them that the Lord has given us good days, and let everyone gather around me so that we can receive this ‘gift’ together.”

The Yehudi immediately sprang into action, and the news spread like wildfire throughout the prisoner-of-war camp.

More and more Yehudi people gathered in the direction of Shamash, and in less than half a day, nearly two thousand people had been gathered.

They surrounded Shamash, their faces beaming with excitement, repeatedly chanting "Thank God."

It was as if what they were about to receive was not the job of "managing prisoners of war," but the power to rule Samarkand.

At that moment, several Yehudi men suddenly knelt down before Shamash, their voices trembling with sobs: "Lord Shamash."

"Our wives and daughters are still being held in the women's prisoner camp in the north of the city. Could you please plead with the people of the northern frontier to release them?"

"They suffered so much inside... I don't know how much humiliation they endured..."

"Those despicable people from northern Xinjiang!"

They speak in Yehudi, so as long as there's no traitor among them, they don't need to worry about being found out by the people of northern Xinjiang.

Shamash's heart skipped a beat.

He knew the situation in the female prisoner camp. The Qin army had extremely strict control over female prisoners. Only Qin soldiers were allowed to leave the camp freely, and it was by no means easy to release them.

But seeing the expectant looks in everyone's eyes, he still gritted his teeth and promised, "Don't worry, everyone, I will do my best to plead with the General of the Northern Frontier."

He then changed the subject, placing his hand on his chest and proclaiming in a doctrinal tone, “But we must also understand that these sisters are temporarily offering themselves to the devil for the sake of the Yehudi people and our great cause of national restoration.”

"Their sacrifice was great and will be remembered forever."

"The Lord will remember their sacrifice, and when we succeed in restoring our nation, they will all become national heroes." These words instantly ignited the emotions of the crowd, and their original worries turned into "noble sacrifices."

Several men also stopped crying and joined the crowd in shouting, "Thank the Lord, for the restoration of the nation, for Yehudi!"

As Shamash was describing the idyllic picture of "managing prisoners of war" to his people, a squad of Wuwei Army guards in yellow armor suddenly walked in.

The head guard's gaze swept over the gathered Yehudi and he asked in a cold voice, "Are all the Yehudi from Samarkand here?"

Shamash immediately stepped forward, a fawning smile plastered on his face: "Don't worry, sir."

“All the Yehudi men are here, nearly two thousand people.”

"But our wives and daughters are still being held in the female prisoner camp in the north of the city. We beg you, sir, to put in a good word for them in the future so that they can be released and reunited with their families."

The guard nodded calmly, his tone completely indifferent: "Don't worry about the women, the King has his own arrangements."

Unlike other female slaves, they were not given as gifts to soldiers or sold to the people of Qin to bear children.

Instead, they will remain in the military and serve until they are drained of all their value, including their lives.

The main difference is that the Yehudi people have a different lineage than the Chinese; they practice matrilineal succession.

If the mother is a Yehudi, then regardless of who the father is, the child is considered a Yehudi.

If the mother is not a Yehudi and the father is a Yehudi, then the child will not be recognized.

It's completely the opposite of what happened in China.

Therefore, Li Xiao did not want such a Yehudi hybrid to appear in the Chinese bloodline.

"Come with me now, the king will personally arrange the management of the prisoners of war."

"Yes yes yes~"

Shamash was overjoyed and turned to his people, shouting, "Did you hear that? The King wants to see us in person!"

The others became excited: "Great Lord, our good days are truly coming!"

“From now on, we will be the superior people of Samarkand, in charge of these lowly people. We’ll sell a naan for 500,000 guildar and make them kneel down and beg us.”

The people of Yehudi erupted in cheers, puffing out their chests and walking out with their guards with haughty swagger.

As they passed the prisoner-of-war camp, they deliberately slowed their pace and gave the prisoners huddled in the mud a contemptuous smile: "See? The Northern Frontier General is giving us important positions. From now on, your lives are in our hands."

Some prisoners of war looked on with envy, while others gritted their teeth and lowered their heads.

The resentment he felt from being exploited by the Yehudi people for food these days could only be suppressed in his heart.

The Yehudi people, however, remained oblivious, constantly chanting "Thank the Lord," as if the "glory" before them was entirely a gift from the Lord and had nothing to do with the decision of the people of the northern frontier.

"Lord, you have finally freed us from suffering."

A Yehudi man clenched his fist excitedly: "When we come to power, we will make those who have wronged us pay double."

“That’s right, the first step in restoring the kingdom begins here.” Shamash walked along, lost in thought, his steps becoming lighter.

He didn't notice at all that the path his bodyguards were leading him was becoming increasingly remote.

When they arrived at a valley, the Wuwei Army suddenly reined in their horses and threw a message at the Yehudi people: "Wait here and don't move."

He then turned and left with his cavalry, leaving Yehudi behind to wait for orders.

Shamash's smile gradually froze.

The valley was eerily quiet, with only the whistling of the wind through the withered grass. In the distance, one could vaguely see the reflection of crimson armor, but not a single person was to be summoned.

A sudden sense of foreboding rose in his heart, and he subconsciously clenched the hem of his clothes, his voice trembling: "Wh...what's going on? Why hasn't the King sent anyone yet? Why is this place so remote?"

The Yehudi people around them gradually realized something was wrong. Some looked around, while others whispered among themselves, "Could we have made a mistake?"

"This doesn't seem like the place where the king holds court..."

"Don't talk nonsense. The Lord will protect us. It must be that the King is going to give us a surprise."

But no sooner had he finished speaking than the sound of hooves suddenly came from both sides of the valley, and countless cavalrymen in red armor galloped in.

"Boom boom boom~"

"Gee, gee, gee~"

"Drink~"

The cavalrymen all had fierce expressions, their eyes fixed on the Yehudi people in the valley like hungry wolves. Some even had half a piece of dry grass dangling from their mouths, swaying slightly with the jolts of their horses.

Some held the reins in one hand and a scimitar in the other. Although the bloodstains on the blade had dried, they still exuded a chilling murderous aura.

The leader was Erhu, who was leisurely riding a black horse, playing with a riding whip in his hand, and coldly sweeping his gaze over the panicked Yehudi people, as if he were looking at a group of lambs to the slaughter.

Shamash's heart sank to the bottom, and he cried out in a trembling voice, "General... we are here to await the King's orders, what are you doing..."

Erhu was too lazy to waste words with him and casually waved his hand.

The commander beside him immediately drew his sword, the blade flashing coldly in the sunlight, and shouted sharply, "Kill! Leave no one alive!"

"kill."

The red-armored cavalrymen roared in unison, spurring their horses forward. The sounds of scimitars slashing and horses' hooves trampling echoed through the valley.

The Yehudi people then realized that the people of the northern frontier did not intend to give them important positions, but rather to exterminate them.

"Lord! Save us!"

A Yehudi knelt down, clasped his hands together, and cried out, but was kicked over by a cavalryman, whose scimitar pierced his chest.

"Demons, you are demons."

Shamash flailed his arms frantically, trying to escape, but a soldier grabbed him by the collar and slit his throat.

He clutched his neck, blood gushing from between his fingers, his eyes filled with despair, muttering incoherently, "Why...why must we Yehudi people...suffer so much..."

“You will be punished; the Lord will not let you off.”

Another Yehudi, while fleeing, turned back to curse, but was shot through the back by a cavalryman's arrow, fell heavily to the ground, and was quickly trampled into a bloody pulp by the horse's hooves.

Screams, cries, and curses mingled together, but they could not stop the Qin army's butcher's knife.

In less than the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, all two thousand Yehudi people lay dead in pools of blood, the soil in the valley stained red with blood and emitting a pungent, fishy smell.

Erhu reined in his horse and ordered the soldiers, "Search them. Find all the gold teeth in their mouths and all the jewelry they're hiding on their bodies. Don't leave a single thing behind."

The soldiers immediately dismounted and examined each Yehudi corpse, finishing them off with their blows.

Some soldiers used knives to pry open the mouths of the dead and pry off their gleaming gold teeth; others tore open the clothes of the dead and took out pieces of silver and gems hidden in the layers.

A soldier carrying a bag of gold teeth approached Erhu and reported, "General, we've found all the valuables, including over three thousand gold teeth."

Erhu nodded, his gaze sweeping over the corpses scattered on the ground, his tone icy: "Clean it up, don't let these things defile our place."

"Remember, in the future, if you see any Yehudi people on Qin territory, kill them all."

"Yes, sir!" the soldiers responded in unison.

Vultures circled in the sky, emitting longing cries. Once all the northern cavalry had left, the vultures swarmed down and began to peck at the corpses of the Yehudi people.

This group of greedy and selfish Yehudi people, who sought to profit from the Qin army, ultimately paid the price of extermination for their ambitions.

Meanwhile, from an ordinary tent deep within the Qin army camp, suppressed and sorrowful weeping could be heard.

Queen Dowager Adana of the Western Karakhanid Khan huddled on a felt blanket, clutching a piece of baby swaddling clothes stained with milk, her clothes already soaked with tears.

Her father stood to one side, his voice heavy as lead: "Aidana, you...you have to hold on, there's no other way..."

"I can't hold on... Father, I can't hold on!"

Adana looked up abruptly, her eyes red and swollen like walnuts, her voice hoarse and almost inaudible: "That's Amir!"

“He is my own son, the true Sultan of the Karakhanid Khanate.”

"How could Yelü Hongxin be so ruthless? How dare he..."

Hasiyeti sighed and said slowly, "Yelü Wohan has been operating in Samarkand for so many years, and he has spies everywhere in the city."

“In the end, he found out about our baby swap. He knew Amir was the real Sultan, so he secretly sent people to the estate to kill the child… to kill the child.”

He paused, avoiding his daughter's gaze, and added, "He kept that double so that it would be exposed later, so that everyone would know that the 'Sultan' of the Karakhanid Khanate is a bastard, completely trampling on the dignity of the royal family, so that he could firmly control our country."

“He kept a close eye on you before, so I didn’t have a chance to tell you, but now… I have to tell you now.”

"Why...why?" Adana collapsed to the ground, her cries heart-wrenching.

“I thought Amir was doing well in the manor. I was even thinking of going to pick him up after we escaped. I was even…” She was choked by overwhelming grief before she could finish her sentence. She could only bite her lip tightly until she tasted blood.

Hasiette crouched down, pressed her hand on her daughter's shoulder, and said urgently, "Dana, now is not the time to cry."

“Amir is gone. We have to find a way to survive and preserve our status as Uyghurs.”

"do you know?"

"The king of the northern frontier is selecting people from the smaller tribes to help govern Samarkand!"

"Small groups?"

Adana continued to cry, looking blankly at her father: "Then... what about us Uyghurs? We are nobles of the Karakhanid Khanate, are we not as good as those small ethnic groups?"

"So what if we can compare?"

Hasiyeti gave a bitter smile, his tone full of anxiety: "What the people of the Northern Frontier want are obedient puppets, not old nobles with a strong foundation."

"They support small ethnic groups in order to suppress us, their former rulers."

“Once those people seize power, it’s hard to say whether we Uyghurs will even be able to keep our lives, let alone enjoy wealth and honor.”

Adana's heart sank to the bottom. Looking at the urgency in her father's eyes, she suddenly had a bad feeling: "Father, what...what do you want to say?"

Hasi took a deep breath, as if he had made a huge decision, and said in a low voice, "Aidana, we only have one way out now."

"Go and offer yourself to Li Xiao, the King of the Northern Frontier."

(End of this chapter)