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

Yin Sutang held the rough pottery teacup, her fingertips slowly circling the rim of the bowl.

She didn't rush to speak, as if she was waiting for the tea to cool down to a temperature she would be willing to swallow.

Daru sat in the main seat opposite her, holding a teacup in his hand, but he didn't drink from it. He simply placed it on his lap, like someone waiting for the next message.

"You asked me to pass on a message to the Sect Master," he began, "but since you left the Xuan Yin Sect, no one has been able to say for sure where she is. You're an elder, and if you don't know where she is, how could I, someone leading troops outside, possibly know?"

Yin Sutang's eyelashes twitched slightly, like a bird adjusting its gaze.

She put down her teacup: "It's precisely because I don't know where she is that I need your help."

Her gaze fell on Darru's face, neither looking away nor flinching.

"The position of elder has taught me a lot, but it has also shielded me from many things. After I left the sect, my access to information was cut off. But you are different. You have been leading troops in the field all these years, traveling to more places than anyone else, and seeing more diverse faces than anyone else."

She paused for a moment: "If the sect leader needs any information, the person she's most likely to contact is someone like you. She might not come to you personally, but her spies will definitely pass through your area. You don't know where she is, but you certainly know what she's been paying attention to lately."

Daru did not respond immediately.

He glanced down at the bowl of tea in his hand; the surface of the tea was no longer steaming, like something slowly cooling down.

He was silent for a moment, then asked, "How long have you been away from the sect?"

"A few months," Yin Sutang said.

"Do you know what has happened in Northern Mang in the past few months?"

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a slow, deliberate quality, like unfolding a map. "The Old Khan hasn't shown his face for a long time. The royal court says he's caught a cold, but those who know the truth know it's not. All three princes are making preparations: the eldest is mobilizing troops, the second is courting tribal leaders, and the third appears to be doing nothing, but his relationship with the Xuan Yin Sect is deeper than anyone else's. The sect leader hasn't shown her face in the past few months. Some say she's secretly observing the royal court's movements, others say she's waiting for a result."

After saying this, he picked up his teacup, took a sip, and put it down again: "If you want to find her, you have to figure out what she wants first."

Yin Sutang's fingers curled slightly inside her sleeve: "What does she want?"

Daru looked at her, as if to see if she really wanted to hear the answer: "Her relationship with the Third Prince is deeper than the outside world thinks. She's not just working for him—she's waiting for him to ascend to the throne. If the Khan really doesn't survive this winter, the Third Prince will be her only option. And her current silence is waiting for things to settle down."

Yin Sutang remained silent for a moment.

She looked down at her hands resting on her knees: "So if I want to find her, I have to find the Third Prince first?"

Daru shook his head: "You won't find the Third Prince. The people around him have changed several times, and even his closest confidants don't know where he is. But his men will pass through here. Every month, a troop of cavalry comes from the direction of the royal court to resupply and exchange information. If you really want to see the sect leader, you can ask them to pass on a message for you when that troop of cavalry passes by."

Yin Sutang looked up: "When will that cavalry troop arrive?"

"Three days later," Daru said, "they will rest here for one night, and then continue north."

His gaze fell on Yin Sutang's face. "If you want me to pass on your message, you have to tell me whether you want the sect leader to know you've arrived, or whether you no longer belong to the Xuan Yin Sect."

The question entered the air inside the tent like a pebble thrown into still water.

Yin Sutang did not answer immediately.

She sat there, like someone waiting for the water to calm down, until the ripples finally subsided before she spoke: "I am indeed no longer with the Xuan Yin Sect, but my trip to Northern Mang was not to betray them or to betray the sect. I simply have things I want to do. You can tell her the truth: I was at Fengling Ferry, leading a group of people from the south, heading towards the royal court."

Daru looked at her for a long time: "Okay."

He picked up the bowl of tea, which had gone cold, and finished the last sip: "After the cavalry arrives, I will send someone to deliver a message. But whether she wants to see you or not is her business."

Yin Sutang stood up and picked up the short knife from the low table: "I'll keep this knife for you. Consider it a thank you for doing this for me."

Daru glanced at the knife, but did not refuse. He reached out and took the short sword, saying, "You've changed quite a bit."

Yin Sutang had already reached the tent entrance. She paused for a moment, without turning around, and said, "People always change."

When the curtain was lifted, the wind from the northern wilderness rushed in once again.

The scent of sand mixed with the slowly cooling air in the twilight dissipated some of the remaining warmth inside the tent.

Qin Mu was standing by the fire, poking a dry branch into the embers, his posture as relaxed as a stone that had been lying in a river for a long time.

He heard footsteps, but without looking up, he simply asked, "Is it done?"

"It's done." Yin Sutang walked to his side and squatted down. "A cavalry troop will pass by here in three days. He promised to pass on our message. If the sect leader is still keeping an eye on the movements of Northern Mang, she should know that we've arrived."

Qin Mu pushed the dry branch completely into the fire, patted the ashes off his hands, and stood up: "Then we'll wait three days."

There was no urgency in his tone; it was as if he were talking about something that had already been scheduled.

Dusk was slowly descending, gilding the outline of the camp with a dark orange edge.

The black wolf still lay at the foot of the poplar tree on the edge of the camp, its eyes reflecting two tiny glimmers of light in the firelight, like two slowly burning embers.

For the next three days, life at the camp had a strange rhythm.

The camps of the Northern Barbarians were not as orderly as the camps of the Qin army, nor were they like the border outposts that were repeatedly fortified and had clear boundaries and regular paths.

The tents are not spaced at fixed intervals; they are scattered randomly according to the terrain and the distance to water sources, like seeds that stop wherever the wind blows them.

In the center of the camp, on the clearing that had been trampled down, a fire burned from morning till night. Occasionally, someone would add a handful of dry firewood, and occasionally someone would put an iron pot on it to cook something.

Unlike the Qin soldiers, the Northern Barbarians did not sit in neat circles around the fire.

They were scattered in twos and threes in the open space between the tents. Some squatted by the fire, poking at the embers with a branch, while others leaned against an overturned wooden box, holding an old leather bag and slowly drinking something.

No one urged them on, nor did anyone ask them to maintain a certain posture.

They move to wherever the sun shines, like a slowly shifting cloud shadow.

Qin Mu sat on a slightly elevated earthen slope at the edge of the camp, the withered poplar tree casting a long, thin shadow behind him.

He held nothing in his hands, simply sitting there quietly, his gaze sweeping over the people and objects scattered throughout the camp, as if watching a painting slowly unfold.

Mo Lang lay beside him, relaxed, his gaze occasionally sweeping across the camp before returning, like a tree bent by the wind but never breaking.

Jiang Zhaoyue sat down beside him, her movements so subtle that she didn't disturb the wolf.

She followed Qin Mu's gaze for a moment, then spoke in a low voice, "Young Master, are you checking if they can be tamed by the Great Qin?"

Qin Mu slightly twitched the corner of his mouth: "It's not about taming. The word 'taming,' if used too often, turns the other person into an object. I just want to know if people like them can be accepted by the Great Qin."

Qin Mu's gaze fell on a Northern Barbarian who was repairing a saddle in the center of the camp.

The man moved very slowly, as if he were measuring time itself with that old saddle.

He bent down and threaded a thin hemp rope through the hole in the leather, pulled it tight, tied a knot at the end, and then bent down again to check the repaired area, as if to make sure he hadn't missed anything.

After he finished doing all this, he placed the saddle on his lap, leaned against a wooden post, and closed his eyes, like a tree that could finally rest.

"They are neither subjects of Qin nor enemies," Qin Mu said. "They are simply living in their own way. They don't build cities or store grain because they are used to moving to a different place when they can no longer move. Qin's habit is to fix everything in place with city walls and to keep people in one place with taxes and laws. But they are different; they are used to moving. You can't confine a river into a city."

Jiang Zhaoyue listened quietly as he finished speaking, as if she were going over his words in her mind first. Then she asked, "So if the Great Qin wants to incorporate them into its territory, it must first allow them to continue moving around?"

Qin Mu did not deny it: "The rules of a place must be something that the people living there are willing to abide by."

Jiang Zhaoyue did not ask any further questions.

The black wolf rolled over under the roots of the poplar tree, its ears slightly adjusting their angle as it rolled, as if trying to catch some information in the wind.

Qin Mu reached out and stroked the back of its neck, his fingers sinking into its dark gray fur, his movements unhurried: "What do you think?"

Jiang Zhaoyue was slightly taken aback: "Is Young Master asking me?"

Qin Mu shook his head: "I'm asking it."

The black wolf didn't raise its head; it merely brushed its tail lightly across the sand.

Yunluan stood a few steps away beside the roots of a poplar tree.

She remained silent, leaning against the tree trunk with her hand on the hilt of her sword, her posture as always, alert and alert.

When she heard Qin Mu say, "They are just living in their own way," her eyebrows twitched slightly, like a string gently plucked by the wind, but she didn't speak immediately.

Once the gust of wind had passed, she spoke, her voice not loud, but deeper than before: "What you said, young master, may be true. But they live in their own way, at the cost of trampling on the Great Qin. The cities that were conquered, the people who were taken captive, the custom of cannibalism—these are not habits, they are choices. It's not that they couldn't survive; they just chose an easier way."

Qin Mu sat on the earthen slope, his gaze fixed on the figure mending a saddle in the center of the camp: "You're right, it's a choice. They didn't eat people because they were hungry, but because they felt no one would care. They didn't migrate south because they had no land, but because they felt they wouldn't have to return it. This land has always been like this; they weren't testing the boundaries, they were testing the bottom line."

Yunluan loosened her hand from the sword hilt, then put it back on: "So, what does Young Master intend to do?"

Qin Mu was silent for a moment, then picked up a withered branch from beside his feet and placed it on his lap, as if sorting out a thought that had been on his mind for a long time: "The Northern Barbarian land is different from the Jiangnan region. In Jiangnan, if the people want a good life, you can reduce taxes, build roads, and dig canals, and they will appreciate your kindness. But for the people of the Northern Barbarian land, a good life means that no one can control them. If you want them to obey, you must first let them know that the rules of the Great Qin apply to them. Kill a group of people until those petty scoundrels dare not test the waters again. Only in this way will the remaining people begin to think that perhaps living is better than running amok."

Jiang Zhaoyue sat beside him, holding a withered leaf she had carelessly crushed in her hand. She placed the leaf on her lap: "What you say makes sense, young master. But what happens after the killing? Those who are killed will always have descendants. They will remember the hatred and pass it down from generation to generation. Qin can kill a group of people, but it cannot kill everyone's hearts. If the hatred runs too deep, even if they submit on the surface, they will always be waiting for an opportunity to retaliate. At that time, Qin will not only have to guard the border, but also guard the cracks in people's hearts."

Qin Mu did not respond immediately after hearing this.

He leaned back against the poplar root, like a tree slowly adjusting its posture, its branches now stretched out to their proper place: "This land of Northern Mang needs more time to take root than the land of Jiangnan. The Qin Dynasty's custom is to fix everything in place—building walls, establishing boundaries, and creating registers. But the people of Northern Mang are used to moving; their roots aren't in the soil, but on horseback. To make them settle down, we must first make them understand that stability is better than movement. Give them enough benefits, and they will be willing to stop. The rest will naturally be washed away by the tide."

Yunluan's voice came from beside the tree roots, still not loud, but with a steady quality like a blade being slowly polished: "Only after they stop can the rules of the Great Qin truly be implemented."

Qin Mu nodded: "That's right. There's no need to rush or force it. When the time comes, they will naturally understand what the right choice is."

As dusk slowly descended from the east, it stretched the shadows of the tents in the camp to be even longer.

The wind blew across the open field, scattering wisps of smoke from the edge of the bonfire that was being covered in ashes.