I am invincible, that's why I lie down. You're using your entire clan to rebel?

The further north you go, the more desolate the scenery becomes.

As dawn broke in the east, everyone had already packed up their campsite.

The fire was buried, the ashes were covered by sand, and even the dark marks on the ground were covered by the turned sand.

Mo Lang led his cubs along the side of the carriage, his steps steady and unhurried, as if he had become accustomed to the pace of this long journey.

The vegetation on both sides of the road is becoming increasingly sparse.

First, the scattered bushes disappeared completely, and then the twisted poplar trees became fewer and fewer, leaving only some dead, wind-blown, smooth stumps, like skinned bones, standing on the gray-brown ground, silently pointing to the sky.

The road beneath our feet was no longer a dirt road, but a patch of sand and gravel compacted by the wind, making a soft, rustling sound when stepped on, as if something extremely thin was being crushed.

The wind was drier than yesterday, carrying a scent that seemed to have come from a great distance—not of grass or trees, not of soil, but of emptiness, of nothingness.

It's like a house that's been emptied out; even the dust has settled.

Yin Sutang lifted the carriage curtain and looked outside for a while, as if confirming something.

Then she lowered the curtain, her voice neither too loud nor too soft: "If you go any further, you won't see any more cities. This place, Northern Mang, is different from what you think. They don't have fixed cities, nor do they have city walls."

Jiang Zhaoyue sat opposite her, holding a cup of tea that had gone half-cold: "Where do they live?"

Yin Sutang's gaze fell on the carriage wall, as if she were organizing her thoughts on how to describe the shape of this land: "They live in tents. Not temporary ones, but the kind that can be packed up and moved at any time. The tribes of Northern Mang migrate several times a year, going wherever there is water and grass. Their royal court is just a larger cluster of tents, without city walls, stone foundations, or the buildings you've seen in the south. Each camp is dismantled in no time, and they move to the next place like a gust of wind."

Lin Xiaolu sat by the window, looking out at the increasingly sparse poplar trees: "What about... those cities we passed through before? Places like Fenglingdu, and those outposts where we were stationed?"

Yin Sutang paused for a moment, as if recalling something, or perhaps considering how to phrase it: "Those cities—whether it's Fenglingdu or those abandoned outposts along the border—originally belonged to the Great Qin. It was the Northern Mang that gradually took them over over the past few decades."

Jiang Zhaoyue's fingers, holding the teacup, paused slightly. The rim of the cup rested at her lips, but she didn't drink. She put it down again: "Those cities, originally belonged to the Great Qin?"

Yin Sutang's gaze remained fixed on the carriage wall, as if she were looking at an old object she had seen many times before: "Yes. When the Great Qin was founded, the border of the Northern Barbarians was much further north than it is now. A large area of ​​land south of Fenglingdu belonged to the Great Qin at that time. Later, the Northern Barbarians gradually migrated south, and the tribal camps were closer and closer to the border, so the definition of the border became more and more blurred. Some of those cities and strongholds were abandoned, some were captured, and some became no-man's lands in the repeated tug-of-war."

Jiang Zhaoyue's voice lowered slightly: "Xu Longxiang didn't manage to take them back?"

Yin Sutang paused for a moment.

She didn't answer immediately, as if reconfirming whether her answer still held water: "The border between Northern Mang and the Northern Border has always been ambiguous. There have been some battles between the two sides, but a fixed dividing line has never truly been formed. The power on both sides has waxed and waned, and there have been frequent frictions. Although Xu Longxiang has been guarding the Northern Border for many years, his focus has always been on preventing the main force of Northern Mang from moving south. He hasn't devoted much energy to these small border towns."

Xu Fenghua's voice rang out softly, neither loud nor soft, like a pebble dropped into deep water: "He really didn't take them back. When my father was alive, those cities still belonged to the Great Qin. Later, as the Northern Barbarians advanced south step by step, he never truly stopped them."

Jiang Zhaoyue glanced at her, and after a moment spoke, her voice not loud: "Xu Longxiang boasts of guarding the northern border for many years and repelling numerous attacks from the Northern Barbarians, but now it seems he's nothing special."

The words fell into the carriage like a leaf landing on the water's surface, causing no ripples, but making the air quiet for a moment.

Xu Fenghua didn't reply. She just lowered her head and looked at her clasped hands, lost in thought.

Qin Mu remained silent.

He leaned against the car wall, his gaze fixed on the rolled-up "Travels in the North," as if looking at something unrelated to himself.

He didn't look up, his voice neither loud nor soft: "Those cities are still in the hands of the Northern Barbarians. But now that we're here, we should see how they were taken back."

Jiang Zhaoyue's gaze lingered on his face for a moment.

Qin Mu closed "Travels in the North" and placed it on his lap, as if it were a book he had already read to his satisfaction.

The black wolf continued to walk ahead, its cubs still following behind in a loose line.

On the distant horizon, there was still nothing that could be called a "city" or "town," only a gray-brown horizon that was slowly darkening, and a cloud that was being slowly smoothed out by the wind.

The carriage traveled for another hour or so.

The wilderness north of Fenglingdu seemed to have been repeatedly kneaded, the traces of the road becoming fainter and fainter, eventually merging completely into the sand and cracked soil, leaving only two shallow marks left by the wheels, like fading ink marks.

Yunluan continued riding at the very front, occasionally raising her hand to shield herself from the wind and sand blowing in her face.

The black wolf maintained a fixed distance from the carriage, its steps steady and composed, like someone personally confirming the direction.

Then Yunluan reined in the reins.

She stopped the horse without making a sound; the chestnut horse simply stopped as she gently pulled on the reins. Its hooves paused on the gravel, and its body turned slightly to the left, as if to remind her of something it had already sensed.

She sat on horseback, her gaze fixed ahead. After a moment, she turned her head and said to the carriage, "There are camps ahead."

Qin Mu lifted the carriage curtain and looked in the direction Yun Luan was looking.

On the distant horizon, something did indeed appear that was quite different from the outline of the wilderness—not city walls, not houses, but a cluster of gray-white tent tops slowly spreading out, like mushrooms scattered by the wind, arranged along the edge of a dry riverbed.

The largest tents stood in the very center, much taller than the surrounding ones, with several flags planted on top, fluttering slightly in the northern wind.

Jiang Zhaoyue also peeked out, her gaze falling on the flags: "Are those the Northern Barbarian camps?"

Yin Sutang's voice came from inside the carriage, with the same focused attention she usually showed when confirming information: "Yes. It should be the camp of some prince. Judging from the style and height of the flag, it belongs to at least a general commanding ten thousand troops."

As she spoke, she lifted the curtain and leaned half her body out, her gaze fixed on the gray-white silhouette in the distance.

Her gaze lingered on the flags for a few moments, as if trying to discern their patterns and colors. Then her eyes brightened slightly, like a polished bronze mirror: "Those are the flags of the eldest prince, Huyan Lie."

Her voice carried a slight, suppressed emotion, like someone who had suddenly found something they thought they had lost while rummaging through old things.

She lowered the carriage curtain, turned to Qin Mu, and spoke a little faster than before: "Young Master, if we can contact Su Youlan, the sect leader of the Xuan Yin Sect, through this camp, our journey into the royal court will be much smoother."

Qin Mu sat in the carriage, his gaze sweeping across her face before returning to the increasingly clear outline of the camp outside the window, as if he were re-examining the chessboard before him: "Do you have any contact with the people in this camp?"

Yin Sutang paused for a moment, as if searching through long-forgotten names and faces in her memory: "I know the general of this camp. His name is Daru. He used to be an outer disciple of the Xuan Yin Sect. Later, he was favored by the eldest prince and transferred to manage the royal guards. He recognizes me and knows my identity, but he doesn't know that I am no longer in the Xuan Yin Sect."

Her gaze lingered on Qin Mu's face for a moment: "If I could appear before him as an elder of the Xuan Yin Sect, he should cooperate. At least, he won't make a move immediately."

Qin Mu tapped his fingers lightly twice on the windowsill: "Then let's do it your way."

The carriage continued forward.

The outline of the tents became clearer and clearer, first the gray-white roofs, then the wooden stakes with ropes and the horses tied to the horse posts, and then the Northern Barbarian soldiers moving between the tents.

They had spotted the carriage, and several pairs of eyes were turning toward them, like a large animal slowly turning its head.

Yunluan reined in her horse and stopped about ten zhang away from the camp entrance.

She sat on the horse without dismounting, simply waiting quietly, letting the gazes directed at her make their own judgments.

Qin Mu got out of the car, walked to Yun Luan's side, stood with his hands behind his back, his posture as relaxed as a body of water rippled by the wind.

Yin Sutang followed behind him, took two steps forward, and stood at the edge of the boundary line that was being drawn.

She stood at the edge of that boundary line, without crossing it.

The soldier standing at the camp entrance glanced at her, then turned and ran deeper into the camp.

A moment later, a tall, imposing Northern Barbarian man emerged from the largest tent in the center of the camp. His steps were slower but more steady than those of the messenger.

He stopped a few steps away from Yin Sutang, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before sweeping over Qin Mu behind her and the figures gathered around the carriage. Then he spoke, his voice low and husky with the air of someone seasoned by countless battles: "Elder? What are you doing here?"

Yin Sutang's gaze met his, like two pieces of broken wood slowly approaching each other. She did not back down or hesitate: "General Daru, there is something very important that I need you to convey to the sect leader for me."

Daru's gaze lingered on Yin Sutang's face for a moment, then he turned to the side and gestured with his chin toward the largest tent behind him: "Come in and talk."

His voice was still not loud, but had a deep, hoarse quality, like a stone that had been repeatedly polished, no longer sharp, yet still hard.

Qin Mu was standing not far away, his posture relaxed, like a tree that had been standing in the wind for a long time and no longer needed to confirm its direction.

He nodded slightly.

Yin Sutang withdrew her gaze and followed Daru into the main tent.

The tent was much larger than it appeared from the outside. It was supported by thick wooden pillars inside and covered with a thick felt cloth on top to keep out the wind and sand of the northern wilderness.

The ground was covered with several layers of old carpet, which felt soft underfoot, like stepping on dry grass that had been compacted for a long time.

In the center of the tent, a low stove was burning charcoal, and a copper kettle sat on the fire, with thin white steam rising from its spout, like a person breathing slowly.

Daru sat down in the main seat, holding a rough earthenware teacup in his hand, as if using that gesture to give himself some time to think.

Yin Sutang sat down opposite him, her posture more relaxed than before, but not completely relaxed.

She took the teacup he offered, took a sip, put it down, and then took out the short knife she had found in the cave from her sleeve.

She placed the short sword horizontally on the low table between the two of them, with the scabbard facing upwards, so that the Northern Manchu characters engraved on the scabbard mouth were directly facing Daru's direction.

Daru's gaze fell on the line of words. His expression didn't change much, but he leaned forward slightly, as if to confirm whether what he was seeing was what he thought it was.

"Where did you get this knife?"

Yin Sutang noticed his change and said calmly, "It was found in an abandoned cave. There were some other relics in the cave, including a scroll recording the mountains and rivers of the Northern Mang border. I recognized the writing on it, so I knew where it came from."

Daru paused for a moment: "You came to see me, surely not just to show me this knife."

Yin Sutang looked at him, her voice softer and clearer than before: "I want you to pass on a message to the Sect Master. Tell her that a merchant caravan from the south is willing to provide her with some things she might be interested in. In the name of the Xuan Yin Sect, make sure the message reaches the Sect Master herself."

Daru's gaze lingered on her face for a moment, as if judging whether her words were worth taking to heart.

Then he spoke, his voice low: "You've been away from the Xuan Yin Sect for a while now, and suddenly you've returned as an elder, just to deliver a message for a merchant caravan. Should I believe you?"

"I didn't return as an elder," Yin Sutang said without looking away. "I returned as someone who knows what the sect leader needs. As for this knife, you can keep it. You recognize the words on it, so you should know its significance."

Daru's gaze lingered on the short knife for a moment before returning to it.

He didn't agree immediately: "I can deliver the message. But whether she sees you or not is her business."

Yin Sutang picked up her teacup and took a sip: "That's enough."

Qin Mu stood outside the tent, hands behind his back, his gaze fixed on the flags fluttering in the wind in the distance.

The conversations inside the tent came through the felt, intermittent and unclear, as if separated by a layer of water.

He listened for a while, then looked away.

Jiang Zhaoyue walked to his side and lowered her voice: "Is it okay?"

Qin Mu's gaze remained fixed on the flags: "She knows how to speak. She can handle it."

Jiang Zhaoyue didn't ask any more questions. She simply stood beside him and looked at the slowly moving cloud with him.

The wind blew across the open field, causing the hem of the flag to flutter slightly before returning to its original shape.