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

When the group stopped by the Ule River, the sun was just beginning to set.

The river was narrower than expected, but the current was not slow, and the murky water surface shimmered with a fine layer of light under the sunlight.

There was a simple dock made of rough wood on the bank, with several wooden stakes leaning crookedly into the mud and sand of the riverbed, which had been washed white by the water.

A ferry was moored at the dock. It was not a large boat and seemed to be used specifically to transport a small number of people and goods.

Near the ferry crossing stood a sentry post with low mud walls and a faded flag perched atop the wall, fluttering in the wind.

Several soldiers wearing old leather armor were leaning against the wall, sunbathing.

When they saw the carriage and the group of people approaching, they first glanced at them lazily, then someone straightened up and grasped the spear leaning against the wall.

Yin Sutang lifted the carriage curtain, glanced in that direction, and then lowered the curtain again: "They are the Second Prince's men. There is a toll to be paid, calculated per person, one string of cash per person, horses are charged separately."

Qin Mu didn't say anything, he just lowered the curtain.

The carriage curtain fell smoothly again, as if he were reaching out to hold down a corner of a tablecloth that had been blown up by the wind. The action was not deliberate, but it made Lin Xiaolu, who was looking out, shrink back.

The carriage stopped in front of the sentry post. The leading soldier stepped forward, his gaze lingering for a moment on the sword at Yunluan's waist before shifting away.

His gaze swept across the carriage, noticing a corner of the curtain being lifted and then lowered by the wind. He couldn't really see who was sitting inside, but he heard a voice coming from inside the carriage, neither loud nor soft: "We need to cross the river."

The soldier's gaze returned to Yunluan: "Crossing the river is possible. One string of cash per person, horses are extra. With so many of you, plus the horses and those dogs—"

He glanced at the black wolf and its cubs following behind the carriage. "It'll cost extra."

Yunluan didn't say anything, but took out a money pouch from her waist and threw it to the soldier.

The soldier took the money bag, weighed it in his hand as if to confirm its weight, and then stepped aside to let him pass: "Go on. The ferry is over there; you can cross the river yourselves."

The ferry was small, and could only carry one carriage and three or four people at a time.

The carriage boarded the boat first. Qin Mu stood at the bow, hands behind his back, his gaze fixed on the riverbank that was slowly becoming clearer on the opposite side.

After the carriage crossed the Ule River, the road became even flatter than the north bank.

The sand on both sides of the riverbank is eroded by the water flow into fine patterns, leaving shallow tracks when wheels roll over it.

After the caravan traveled for about two more hours, the outline of a series of camps finally appeared on the horizon ahead.

Qin Mu stood on the riverbank for a moment, his gaze sweeping across the slowly unfolding horizon ahead.

He turned his head to the side, his voice low, as if speaking to the person behind him, or perhaps confirming to himself: "Let's go, let's go and meet the Second Prince."

Yin Sutang approached from behind, lowering her voice: "The Second Prince's camp is about forty miles north of the Ule River, right next to a grassland, which is convenient for grazing horses and for gathering troops. His camp is much larger than the First Prince's, with a permanent garrison of about 20,000 troops and dozens of staff members, many of whom are experts recruited from the Western Regions and the Northern Border."

Qin Mu did not turn around, but only slightly turned his head, as if listening.

Yin Sutang continued, "Among the core fighting forces under the Second Prince, three are worth mentioning. One is a swordsman from the Western Regions, who is said to have once fought against a hundred men single-handedly on the Western Regions grasslands. Later, the Second Prince recruited him with a large sum of money, and he is the Second Prince's most trusted bodyguard. Another is a local shaman from Northern Mang, whose identity is very special. He does not hold a high position in the army, but the Second Prince always asks him to divine the good or bad fortune before each campaign, which seems to be a habit that has lasted for many years. The third is the Second Prince himself. When he was young, he accompanied the Old Khan on three campaigns, and his combat experience is richer than that of the other two princes. His swordsmanship was also personally taught by the Old Khan."

After listening, Qin Mu nodded, his voice neither too loud nor too soft: "The Crown Prince mentioned these people in the intelligence he provided."

Yin Sutang glanced at him, then looked away after a moment: "Then what should we do with him? The First Prince just sent over intelligence, and Sect Master Su is also adjusting the Xuan Yin Sect's direction. If we directly attack the Second Prince now, won't we alert him?"

Qin Mu did not rush to answer.

He continued walking for a while, his boots making a soft, rhythmic sound as they pounded on the sand: "Now that we've decided to support the First Prince, there's no need for the Second Prince to exist."

Yin Sutang paused slightly.

The pause was very short.

She nodded, her voice low: "Yes, I understand."

She followed his steps and didn't ask any more questions.

The second prince's tent was completely different from Huyan Lie's camp, which was mottled by wind and sand.

The gray-black felt tents stood one after another, neatly arranged, as if the spacing had been measured with a ruler.

Sufficient space was left between the tents to facilitate the rapid movement of cavalry.

The fence surrounding the camp was made of thick wood and was a full person taller than Huyan Lie's dilapidated camp.

In the center of the camp, a particularly tall main tent stood there, with a dark blue flag tied to the pointed top of the tent. The flag was embroidered with a wolf with its head held high, which slowly unfurled in the wind.

Yin Sutang, who had gone to scout ahead, had returned. She dismounted and whispered to Qin Mu:

"The second prince is in the main tent, reportedly discussing matters with several trusted confidants. He is always accompanied by six personal guards, all of whom are experts at the Zhixuan realm or above. There is also a guard of three hundred men on the outer perimeter."

After listening, Qin Mu did not dismount, but remained seated on the horse, his gaze fixed on the dark blue main tent.

"That's perfect. We don't need to look for him anymore."

He dismounted and handed the reins to Yunluan, who was standing to the side.

Qin Mu strode towards the camp.

His pace was slow, no different from when he walked towards any other camp.

His gray cloth robe was slightly warm in the midday sun, its edges drooping and swaying gently with his steps.

The first fence of the camp stood in front of him.

The wooden stakes were about half a person's height, driven firmly into the sandy soil, with sharpened heads and several dried, dark marks remaining on them.

He didn't stop when he reached the fence; he simply turned slightly to the side and walked through it as if passing through a half-open door.

The edge of his robe brushed against the wooden stake without making a sound.

Two guards stood inside the fence, wearing worn leather armor, leaning against a wooden stake and whispering something, one of them chewing on a dry grass stalk.

They stopped moving almost simultaneously when they saw Qin Mu walk in.

The dried grass stem was still tucked between his lips, but he could no longer chew it.

The other person's hand was resting on the hilt of the knife at his waist, but it was as if something was gently pressing down on it, and he didn't lift it any further.

They stood there, their gazes fixed on Qin Mu, but there was no obstruction, no surprise, no fear in their eyes—only a near-blank pause.

They didn't move when Qin Mu walked between them.

The second fence was made of thicker wooden stakes, half a person taller than the first, with the stake heads sharpened to a point where the tips were a darker color than the base.

Inside the fence stood two guards with swords, who were more muscular and had sharper eyes than the first guard.

When they saw Qin Mu, they almost simultaneously took half a step forward—their swords were already half-drawn.

But after that half step, they didn't take a second step.

Their movements were frozen in the middle.

They did not move when Qin Mu walked between them.

The third fence stood across a slightly raised section of ground, and the guards in front of the tent were replaced by soldiers with short spears, about seven or eight of them, scattered on both sides of the fence.

Their positions were more spread out than the previous fences, as if they had been trained in some way.

The moment they saw Qin Mu, some of them had already raised their short spears.

But the short spear stopped halfway up.

They maintained their original positions.

The fourth and fifth rounds.

Qin Mu walked past each fence, each step landing on the sandy ground.

The guards remained in the same position as when he passed by.

As he approached the large, dark blue tent, the curtain was lifted by a corner in the wind before falling back down.

He stood there, not lifting the curtain immediately.

He listened intently for a few moments.

There were voices inside the tent, rough and with a tone that was used to giving orders:

"The outposts on the lower Uller River have been withdrawn, but there are still a few that need to be redeployed on the north bank. The eldest prince has been silent for a long time, as if he's waiting for something. Ignore him; he won't wait."

He lifted the curtain and stepped inside.

The interior of the tent appeared more spacious than the outside. In the center was a low table with a map drawn in ink on an old sheepskin, its edges weighed down by several stones.

A rough porcelain bowl sat on the edge of the table, with a ring of dried tea stains remaining around its rim.

A person was sitting behind the low table.

He was around forty years old, broad-shouldered and thick-backed, wearing an old dark brown leather armor with several old marks on the plates.

His hair was cut very short, revealing a broad forehead, high brow bones, deep-set eyes, and a habitual scrutinizing gaze.

Behind him stood six bodyguards, dressed in black close-fitting clothes, with weapons of varying lengths hanging at their waists. Each of them stood tall and exuded a calm and composed aura.

Their positions were strategically placed, blocking out all possible blind spots around the low table.

Tuoba Jun was about to pick up the stone at the edge of the map when his gaze fell on Qin Mu the moment he looked up.

His brow furrowed slightly, and though his voice was not loud, it carried an undeniable air of authority:

"Who are you? Who let you in? Where are the guards outside?"

After asking the question, he didn't wait for an answer, but simply looked up and glanced at the guard closest to him.

The guards had already moved.

His movements were clean and swift; his hand had already gripped the hilt of the knife at his waist, and he shifted half a step to the side in Qin Mu's direction.

But he only pulled the knife halfway out before his movement stopped.

His eyes were still open, his fingers were still gripping the knife handle, but his body was frozen in place.

The second guard had already circled around to the right side of the low table. He moved faster, crouching low, and approached Qin Mu's flank.

But he stopped about two steps away from Qin Mu.

His foot had already stepped out, but it didn't land; it remained suspended in mid-air.

The third guard did not attempt to approach Qin Mu.

He stood behind the low table, his hand already resting on the handle of the short crossbow at his waist.

But his fingers stopped the moment they touched the crossbow.

The fourth, the fifth, and the sixth.

They all moved at the same time, but their movements all stopped at the same moment.

Six people, six different attack postures, like six statues frozen in place, are distributed in different locations within the tent, each maintaining the posture they were in when they were frozen.

Tuoba Jun's gaze swept over the frozen guards and then fell back on Qin Mu.

His fingers were still resting on the edge of the table, the tips slightly white, but his voice remained suppressed and steady: "Who exactly are you? A person walks into my tent, and my personal guards can't even draw their swords—I've never seen anything like this before."

Qin Mu did not answer him.

At this moment, a tall figure appeared at the edge of the tent flap, wearing an old dark gray robe, with a curved knife hanging at his waist, the rope binding the scabbard worn smooth.

His face was roughened by the wind and sand of the Northern Wilderness, and there was an old scar on his cheekbone that stretched from the corner of his eye to his jaw.

His gaze fell on Qin Mu, almost without lingering, and then he took a step forward, his scimitar already half-drawn.

Western Regions Swordsman.

His voice wasn't loud, but it had a rough, gritty quality, like it had been polished by sand and gravel: "Your Highness, how did this person get in?"

The Western Region swordsman received no response. His gaze lingered on Qin Mu for a moment, and then he moved.

He moved faster than the guards, his scimitar sliding out of its sheath almost silently, the blade flashing briefly in the candlelight inside the tent.

He crouched low, the blade slicing through the air with a short, sharp hiss, aiming for Qin Mu's side of the neck.

Qin Mu did not move.

His gaze remained fixed on a crease on the edge of the map, obscured by a stone.

When the Western Region swordsman's blade was about an arm's length away from him, it seemed to be blocked by something unseen. The tip of the blade hung in mid-air, unable to cut down or be withdrawn.

The Western Region swordsman's arm tensed.

He was straining his wrist, and the blade was trying to push forward, but it wouldn't move.

His other hand was already on the back of the knife, trying to press it down with the strength of both hands, but the invisible resistance was still there.

His breathing became rapid, and a fine layer of sweat appeared on his forehead, but he still did not let go, the hilt of the knife was gripped so tightly in his palm that it turned white.

Qin Mu didn't look at him, and said in a low voice: "Before drawing your sword, you should first see clearly who you are going to kill."

The Western Region swordsman's pupils contracted slightly. In that instant, he saw the outline of Qin Mu's profile reflected in the candlelight, but he didn't have time to discern anything more.

Qin Mu raised his hand from the edge of the map, his movements slow and deliberate, his fingertips landing on the curved blade, lightly tapping its surface.

The Western Region swordsman felt as if something had twisted his arm, and a force surged from the hilt of his sword along his wrist into his forearm.

His fingers involuntarily loosened their grip on the knife, and the curved blade slipped from his palm. Before it hit the ground, Qin Mu caught it, flipped his wrist, and the blade turned in mid-air, plunging into the sand in front of the Western Region swordsman. Most of the blade was embedded in the ground, with only a small part of the hilt protruding and swaying slightly in the air.

The Western Region swordsman took two steps back and looked down at his empty hands.

His hands were trembling, from his fingertips to his wrists.

He neither tried to make a move nor spoke again; he simply stood there.

The curtain was lifted again.

The person who came in this time was thin and small, wearing a dark old robe with dust clinging to the hem. He stood there.

His face was etched with deep lines by the passage of time and the sandstorms; his eyes were sunken, and his lips were dry and chapped, as if he hadn't drunk water in a long time.

His gaze fell on the guards who were frozen in place inside the tent, then on the curved swords of the Western Region swordsmen stuck in the sand, and finally on Qin Mu.

He stopped about five steps away from Qin Mu, bent down, placed a rough pottery bowl on the ground, and made a very soft sound when the bottom of the bowl touched the ground. He then placed a piece of animal bone that he was carrying with him next to the pottery bowl, and then straightened up.