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

The small, thin man did not take another step forward.

He stood not far from the Western Region swordsman, with the rough pottery bowl and the animal bone with dark patterns at his feet.

He began to make a very low sound, as if squeezed from the depths of his throat, with a rhythm he had repeated many times but never quite mastered—sometimes fast, sometimes slow, occasionally pausing for a moment, as if waiting for something to connect to the right string.

The sound, as it fell into the air, was like a drop of ink falling into water, slowly spreading out.

Qin Mu shifted his gaze from the edge of the map to the figure reciting softly, his eyes showing neither wariness nor intention to interrupt.

He was like someone looking at something he had never seen before, not in a hurry to judge whether it was good or bad, but simply putting it into view and waiting for it to reveal more of its features on its own.

The wizard had his eyes closed, and the wrinkles on his forehead seemed to be stretched open and closed from the inside by something. His breathing became heavier and slower, like a well being slowly filled and slowly emptied.

His fingers curled slightly, as if he were holding something unseen in the void.

Then he opened his eyes.

His pupils became brighter for a moment than before—not from the candlelight, but as if a thin layer of ash had been lifted to reveal the burning embers underneath.

He looked at Qin Mu, his lips moving slightly, as if he was waiting for the final syllable of his sentence to settle.

Qin Mu sensed a power.

That force had no substance, no form; it was more like a weight slowly approaching him, like an old quilt being unfurled and blown by the wind from afar, ready to fall on his shoulders.

But before it touched the edge of his robe, it seemed to be gently stopped by something, stopped in place, and then disappeared like a piece of ashes blown away by the wind.

The wizard's gaze lingered on Qin Mu for a moment.

His lips parted slightly, then closed again, as if confirming what he had just seen, yet unsure if he had seen it wrong.

He stood there, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, his voice lower than before, as if speaking to himself: "Can't get in." His voice was very soft, and after those three words fell, the tent was quiet for a moment.

Qin Mu withdrew his gaze from the wizard and returned it to the map, as if the brief pause just now was merely a moment's pause as he watched the wind rustle through the leaves.

The wizard remained standing, the ripples in the rough earthenware bowl at his feet slowly spreading, circle after circle, until they completely subsided. The bowl contained no ordinary water; it was a liquid whose exact composition even he wasn't entirely sure of. He had thought the resistance would at most make things take longer, but it hadn't expected it to prevent his power from getting any closer, even a tentative probe was blocked.

His gaze returned to Qin Mu, trying to find the mastermind behind him, but he couldn't see anything. It was like a deep well illuminated by moonlight, where the bottom could be seen but the water could not be touched, or a stone whose edges had been worn away by wind and sand, with no gaps to pry it open.

He slowly took a step back, but didn't quite land properly, like a bird checking if its escape route was still there. The Western Region swordsman remained standing, head bowed, staring at his curved sword embedded in the sand.

Tuoba Jun sat behind the low table, and he remained silent from the moment his guards were immobilized until the wizard's spell failed.

His gaze shifted from the wizard to Qin Mu, then back to the wizard, as if he were using the time it took for his gaze to re-evaluate something he had already evaluated many times before.

He didn't look at the guards who were frozen in place, as if he had already tacitly agreed that they were temporarily out of use.

He spoke, his voice not loud, but even more subdued than before: "You are not from Northern Mang. No martial artist from Northern Mang follows your style."

Qin Mu neither denied nor responded. He shifted his gaze from the map on the table to Tuoba Jun. His gaze wasn't sharp, but it made Tuoba Jun realize that his posture was off—he slightly adjusted his center of gravity, then quickly realized he was adjusting his center of gravity and stopped.

Qin Mu looked at him for a moment: "Your brother, Huyan Lie, asked me to tell you something—he said he's left you a way out. If you don't want to leave, he won't wait for you anymore."

Tuoba Jun's gaze shifted slightly. He paused for a moment, then said, "He's never been very patient; he's always been like that since he was little."

After Tuoba Jun finished speaking, the air inside the tent seemed to be gently stirred, like a pool of water that had been still for a long time, now slightly rippling because of the stone that had been thrown in.

The wizard remained standing in the same spot. The liquid in the rough earthenware bowl at his feet had stopped sloshing and was now completely still. The surface of the water resembled an old, polished bronze mirror, reflecting the light filtering through the tent ceiling.

The Western Region swordsman had already loosened his grip on the hilt of his sword, but his gaze remained fixed on the curved blade stuck in the sand, as if waiting for an opportunity that he was unsure if it would ever come.

Qin Mu withdrew his gaze from the wizard and returned it to Tuoba Jun's face: "That Western Region swordsman under your command is indeed quite skilled with his sword. If he were in a different place, he could live a long time. But he's in the wrong position."

The Western Region swordsman's Adam's apple bobbed slightly, but he didn't reply.

Tuoba Jun was silent for a moment: "So, did you come to me to deliver a message for him, or for something else?"

Qin Mu looked at him: "Delivering the message was just a side effect. What I really want to do is see what kind of people each of you three princes are. I've already seen the eldest prince; he's more suited to sit in that position than you. Because he knows what he's afraid of. And you? Do you even know what you're afraid of?"

Tuoba Jun's gaze finally changed, as if a very thin layer of ice had been gently pushed from below, cracking open with a very fine line, only to be quickly covered by an even deeper calm.

His voice remained steady as he spoke, but the sentence came out a beat faster than before: "I don't need to know what I'm afraid of. I just need to know what I want."

Qin Mu looked at him: "Then what do you want?"

Tuoba Jun did not answer immediately. His gaze fell on the densely marked highlands north of the Ule River on the map, as if confirming something one last time: "I want the royal court. What he can't give me, I will take myself."

Qin Mu didn't speak; he just stood there, like someone waiting for Qin Mu to finish speaking.

Tuoba Jun continued, "But I also know that I need someone who can secure my position. If you're willing to help me, I can offer more than Huyan Lie."

Qin Mu looked at him, and after a moment he spoke: "But you can't give me what I want."

Tuoba Jun's voice was a few decibels deeper than before: "How do you know I can't give you what you want?"

Qin Mu stopped. He stood at the edge of the tent flap, afternoon light filtering through the gaps and casting a thin, long streak of light on his shoulder. He didn't turn around immediately, as if waiting for the echo of the question to fade, then he turned his head, his voice low but clear enough: "Because what I need is an obedient puppet. You are clearly not that kind of person."

Tuoba Jun remained silent. His hand was still resting on the edge of the low table, the outlines of the highlands on the map that he had repeatedly examined were now firmly imprinted in his mind's eye. He looked at Qin Mu, the words that had been swirling in his throat remaining unspoken.

Just then, the tent flap was abruptly flung open from the outside. A gust of dusty wind rushed in, slightly lifting a corner of the map on the low table. A tall figure in dark brown leather armor stood in the doorway, holding a short-handled iron axe, its blade gleaming a dull gray in the sunlight. He glanced at the guards frozen in place inside the tent, then at the scimitar stuck in the sand, and finally at Qin Mu.

"Your Highness, who is this person?" His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a rough quality that seemed to emanate from deep within his chest. Without waiting for Tuoba Jun's reply, he took a step towards Qin Mu. The step was heavy, the sole of his boot leaving a clear imprint on the sandy ground.

Qin Mu didn't turn around, only slightly shifting his body. The man's iron axe was already raised, the blade slicing halfway through the air, accompanied by a dull whistling sound as it accelerated with gravity, heading towards Qin Mu's shoulder. But the axe stopped about a foot away from Qin Mu's shoulder, as if it had struck a lump of slowly solidifying resin. His hand went numb from the impact, the iron axe flew out of his grasp, twirled twice in the air, and crashed onto the sandy ground with a loud thud, the blade embedded in the ground, standing there crookedly. His body remained in the posture it had just assumed after exerting force, but his movements had stopped. His gaze was fixed on Qin Mu, as if he was still waiting for his body to regain its rhythm.

Qin Mu withdrew his hand without even glancing at him. Tuoba Jun suddenly stood up, his knee knocking the low table askew. One of the corner stones on the edge of the map slipped off and landed on the carpet with a dull thud.

"Stop it, all of you!" His voice was a chord higher than before. "Don't go any further!"

A sound of metal being set down came from outside the tent flap. No one rushed in. Those who had already drawn their weapons stood still, their hands still gripping the hilts of their swords, but when their gazes fell towards the tent flap, they made no further move.

Tuoba Jun stood there, like a tree that had just recovered from a storm. He looked at Qin Mu, remained silent for a moment, and then lowered his voice, asking, "What exactly do you want? Are you going to hand me over to my elder brother?"

Qin Mu withdrew his hand, letting it hang at his side: "Then let's see if you cooperate. To me, it doesn't matter whether you live or die."

After Tuoba Jun uttered those four words, the tent fell silent for a moment.

That quiet wasn't forced out; it was more like something had finally settled down.

He looked at Qin Mu, his gaze fixed on him, as if to confirm that his words had landed where they should have.

His voice was lower when he spoke: "I'll go with you."

He did not explain why he was leaving.

Qin Mu looked at him, showing neither surprise nor satisfaction, as if he had already caught those four words before they reached his ears and was simply waiting for them to fall on their own. "Then let's go."

He turned to the side, revealing the direction of the tent curtain.

Tuoba Jun stood up from the low couch. His movements were slow, but he didn't glance at the unfolded map again throughout the entire process.

He paused as he reached the tent flap, turned his head, and looked at the guards who were still frozen in place: "When will they recover?"

Qin Mu had already stepped out of the tent, his voice coming from the sunlight outside: "An incense stick's time."

Tuoba Jun didn't ask any more questions and followed after him.

As he stepped out of the main tent, the afternoon sun slanted down from the west, casting a warm yellow glow over the entire camp. His gaze swept over the soldiers inside and outside the camp, who had laid down their weapons but remained on guard. He said nothing, simply following the gray-clad figure ahead.

Tuoba Jun followed behind Qin Mu and did not look back when he walked out of the camp gate.

He didn't bring any guards, didn't lead his horse, and didn't even glance at the soldiers standing inside the fence, watching him with complicated expressions. He just walked quietly, like a tree that had been uprooted and was being transplanted to another patch of soil.

The camp gate closed behind him with a low, muffled sound.

The black wolf was lying under the roots of a poplar tree not far from the camp. When it saw Qin Mu come out, it slowly stood up, shook the dust off its fur, and followed with its cubs.

Tuoba Falcon glanced at the black wolf and the few gray-brown beasts moving slowly behind it, but said nothing.

The group headed south along the route they had come from.

Tuoba Jun walked in the middle of the group, neither moving to the front nor deliberately falling behind.

Dusk began to spread from the western horizon, turning the sandy land along the way into a dark orange-red. The wind swept across the open fields, occasionally swirling up a dry blade of grass or two, which would then fall back to their original position at the feet of the group.

By the time they arrived at Huyan Lie's camp, it was already completely dark.

The torches in front of the camp gate were already lit, and a few clusters of flames swayed gently in the night breeze.

Huyan Lie was standing at the entrance of the main tent when he saw the approaching procession from afar. His gaze first fell on the figure in gray cloth, and then on the figure behind him who was even more silent than he had expected.

His brow twitched slightly.

Tuoba Jun stopped two steps in front of him. He didn't look at him, but his gaze was fixed on the tent behind him, which was slightly billowing in the wind.

He turned and walked towards the carriage parked beside the poplar tree at the edge of the camp. Mo Lang also stood up and followed him with his cubs. Only Hu Yanlie and Tuoba Jun remained in the center of the camp. The torchlight flickered between them, casting their shadows on the ground, one to the left and one to the right.