After learning that the great battle had ended, Mijing walked out of the military camp. He politely declined the guards’ offer to lead a horse for him. He walked from where the Northern Army had been stationed by the north gate of Shengle City—a distance of over 25m, nearly 30m. Mijing walked quietly and resolutely. After walking a few steps, the ground was covered with corpses.

There were Xianbei, Northern soldiers, and reinforcements that the Northern Army had always looked down on. Mijing held a set of prayer beads before him, murmuring prayers as he maintained a steady pace forward.

About fifteen minutes later, Mijing arrived at his destination. Not far ahead stood the towering north gate of Shengle. The fighting here was more brutal than anywhere else. Mijing could almost see how desperately and stubbornly the Xianbei protected their city.

Though their words differed and they had no shared goals, warriors were always worthy of respect.

The scene stirred some memories in Mijing. Those who died here might have been the culprits behind the massacre of monks and civilians at Zunshan Temple nine years ago. They had slaughtered everyone in the temple, then stormed the streets, once again spilling blood across Changan. The survivors—those who thought obedience could keep them alive—ultimately became sacrifices for the Xianbei’s vengeance.

Mijing should have hated these people, yet for some reason, seeing the corpses—some crawling, some with half-open eyes—he felt nothing. He neither felt joy at their fate nor sympathy.

The only thought in his mind was two words: cause and effect.

The seeds sown back then had borne the fruit of retribution, but did retribution ever come perfectly in measure? One night had passed, and the cause-and-effect from ten years ago had been completely resolved. Were new seeds being sown?

Mijing found himself confused again. Eight years ago, because of confusion, he had chosen to head west on a pilgrimage seeking the correct path. Now he felt he was already on the right path—so why did he feel lost again?

He frowned, then took a step forward. He had planned to enter the city directly, but a particularly dazzling light flashed across his vision. Mijing turned and saw the King sitting on the ground.

Mijing: “…”

This was the best depiction of human purgatory, yet Qu Yunmie had somehow found a clean spot amidst the mountain of corpses and rivers of blood. He sat on a large rock side by side with Xiao Rong, speaking in low tones.

Curious, Mijing walked toward them. After a few steps, he froze—he saw Qu Yunmie holding Xiao Rong’s hand.

Mijing: “…”

Behave a little.

Please…

…

Xiao Rong didn’t want to freeze here either, but the army outside the city had been cleared, while the city still had pockets of Xianbei forces. Shengle was a large place, and he didn’t know where small Xianbei units might be hiding. If Xiao Rong entered, those forces might rush out to die with them. Qu Yunmie didn’t mind risking his own life, but if Xiao Rong were injured, Qu Yunmie knew he might not return unharmed.

So, while waiting for a reply from Jian Qiao and the others, the two sat here all night, sleep-deprived and mentally tense. Xiao Rong barely had the energy to keep his eyes open. He drooped his eyelids and asked Qu Yunmie about the next plan. “What will you do with the prisoners, Your Majesty?”

Qu Yunmie squeezed Xiao Rong’s fingers. He couldn’t understand why a man’s fingers could be so delicate. Xiao Rong immediately frowned and tried to pull his hand back, letting out a sharp cry, “It hurts!”

Qu Yunmie: “…”

He hurriedly rubbed Xiao Rong’s hand, feeling guilty. In Xiao Rong’s frustrated gaze, he dared not apologize, only changing the subject quickly. “The prisoners, of course, they will be killed!”

Xiao Rong blinked slowly, then exploded. “Twenty thousand people—all killed?! What about the Xianbei in the city? Will you kill them too?!”

Qu Yunmie replied, “Civilians are different from soldiers.”

Xiao Rong said, “Once you take the prisoners’ weapons, they are barely different from civilians! No, I won’t let you kill them. Killing prisoners is a practice of the past. If you don’t plan to exterminate all Xianbei, then you cannot treat prisoners so crudely. Still, twenty thousand is indeed too many. Even Pingcheng doesn’t need that many prisoners.”

Qu Yunmie said, “That is why I said all of them must die. Xianbei numbers are too large. Keeping these twenty thousand is dangerous. If any Xianbei officials escape, these men could be used by them. Even without officials, do you think the Rouran, Gaoche, or Kumo Xi have no ideas? If they unite, who knows—another Xianbei may rise.”

Xiao Rong looked at Qu Yunmie’s serious expression and laughed. “That actually makes sense.”

Qu Yunmie said, “I have always spoken sensibly.”

Xiao Rong smiled again, then shook his head. “Even so, we must spare the lives of these twenty thousand. Not just for Your Majesty’s reputation, but to leave a bottom line. I don’t yet know how many Xianbei there are, but judging from their forces, they number less than a million. If we only rely on force, this million will inevitably cause trouble. Either we gradually kill them all, or they suppress us in return. Sparing prisoners sends a message to the other Xianbei: surrender, and you will not be killed. Even with deep hatred between the two nations, civilians and prisoners will not suffer.”

The Xianbei had only two major cities: Shengle and Shuofang, plus Xihai. The first two concentrated about seventy percent of their population, Xihai held ten percent, the rest lived scattered across grasslands and deserts. According to Nan Yong, those people still lived off the land, eating raw meat and grass.

On a map, Shengle and Shuofang shared traits. They were near the Han River. Xihai was near the Juyan Marsh, with a weak river flowing through. Nomads needed water, so areas without water were neglected even by the Xianbei themselves. Xiao Rong suspected the scattered Xianbei had no sense of belonging like Shengle residents did.

After conquering Shengle and settling affairs, Qu Yunmie would head to Shuofang. After taking Shuofang, they would advance through the desert along the Great Wall, via Zhangye to Jiuquan, then follow the weak river north to a large lake—finally reaching Xihai.

As for the scattered Xianbei, Xiao Rong didn’t plan to manage them. For people of this era, the desert was a dead land, useless. Even if Xiao Rong knew of mineral resources there, he wouldn’t exploit them. The input and output were disproportionate. Long-term desert settlement would be akin to exile.

Minerals on the grasslands could be utilized, especially copper and iron, but extraction would eventually finish. Xiao Rong didn’t want grassland people to become miners—some couldn’t handle such labor.

Those unable could return to their old trades: cattle, sheep, horses—consumables through time. Qu Yunmie was a general, even as the Emperor, he would remain a general. Other dynasties might demobilize soldiers, reducing horse demand, but not Qu Yunmie. He always emphasized military cultivation, which required many horses.

Cattle, even more so. During chaotic times, there were no rules against slaughtering cows. In a peaceful, small-farming society, rules would return. Xiao Rong genuinely hoped it wouldn’t come to that, because beef was delicious.

Thus, promoting cattle breeding was essential. Xiao Rong even planned to build a road, called the “Plow Ox Road.” Strong animals would work as draft oxen, weaker ones would be sent to tables.

However, animal husbandry was complex, with many interconnected industries—veterinarians, pasture planting, hygiene, and epidemic prevention. Introducing farming to nomads would create new problems. Landlords might emerge, gaining extensive land and effectively ruling the area.

These issues needed preemptive solutions. Xiao Rong rambled to Qu Yunmie, whose expression stiffened. Qu Yunmie didn’t understand how the topic had shifted from prisoner execution to cattle breeding, and where Xiao Rong would source the cattle—Biliqika? Such a strange name.

As Xiao Rong spoke, his right hand warmed. Qu Yunmie quietly released it and beckoned him.

Xiao Rong offered his left hand while continuing to outline his integrated beef, dairy, and draft cattle project.

…

Mijing stood behind them, listening. Honestly, he didn’t understand much of what came next. Despite traveling extensively, when Xiao Rong spoke, Mijing always felt a pang of humble embarrassment at his own naivety.

After a moment of silence, Mijing turned and left, but now he was no longer confused. He even smiled slightly.

No matter if someone was a grassland or Northern person, under Xiao Rong’s rule, all were workers. Xiao Rong had a natural dissatisfaction with everything. Others might think life was good enough, but Xiao Rong considered them living in pigsties.

He saw no hatred, only scarcity. In Xiao Rong’s eyes, everyone should live busy, fulfilling lives—exhausted but thriving.

…

This was not Mijing’s expertise. He had prepared much before returning to the North. He could never have imagined that, before fully showcasing his skills, an unexpected visitor would intercept him outside Anding City, unreasonable and lying, leaving him with no choice.

Yet, he began to enjoy these intrusions—they made his stagnant life feel vivid.

Mijing took two steps forward. In the opposite direction, Yu Shaoxie walked toward him quickly, nodded at Mijing, then continued searching for Xiao Rong.

Seeing Xiao Rong, Yu Shaoxie wanted to call out to him and quickened his pace, but he paused. Mijing blocked his way, and stood unusually close. He couldn’t see Xiao Rong behind him.

Mijing smiled. “Young Master Yu, how is Shengle City?”

Yu Shaoxie: “…”

His expression was odd. They rarely interacted. Normally, they communicated through Xiao Rong.

Blinking, Yu Shaoxie cautiously said, “It has stabilized quite a bit?”

Mijing smiled with relief. “That’s excellent. I plan to enter the city to speak with the remaining stubborn enemy forces, and see if I can persuade them. Young Master Yu, can you guide me?”

Yu Shaoxie answered hesitantly, “Alright.”

He had intended to find Xiao Rong for something minor, such as ask if he was cold, and send him some warmth if needed. Since Mijing made a request, he would assist the monk first.

With that, they left together. Yu Shaoxie didn’t see Qu Yunmie holding Xiao Rong’s hand, nor did he see Xiao Rong saying he was tired and a little annoyed. He withdrew his own hand and turned halfway, leaning slightly against Qu Yunmie.

…

The Northern Army busied themselves, while the King of the North openly shirked his duties. The Xianbei couldn’t understand this behavior. Did the King of the North not care about the spoils of this battle? Did the Xianbei nobles not deserve his personal attention?

From anger to fear, and from fear to torment, some even hoped the soldiers around them would give them relief. The sun rose, sunlight poured in—how much longer would they have to wait?!

The main city was finally cleared, and the palace had been inspected several times. Only then could it be confirmed safe. Upon learning this, Jian Qiao immediately went in person to summon Qu Yunmie and Xiao Rong. Yuan Baifu glanced at him, then looked at the Xianbei nobles in the room.

In the past, these people could make the Xianbei and the Central Plains tremble with just a step, but now they were no different from civilians on the street. Despite their bluster, Yuan Baifu knew they were actually very afraid.

Gongsun Yuan pushed the door open and cursed at the floor. “Bastard!”

Yuan Baifu asked him, “What happened?”

Gongsun Yuan said, “Emperor Murong Yi ran away! Wang Xinyong and I searched everywhere, inside and out, and finally found a secret passage in that… whatever hall. The passage led outside the city. He ran off long ago!”

Hearing this, Yuan Baifu was somewhat pleased. Recently, Qu Yunmie had repeatedly emphasized not to harm Murong Yi. He wanted to keep him because he was useful. Now Murong Yi was gone and Qu Yunmie would be furious.

He showed no emotion but calmed Gongsun Yuan. “They won’t get far. What about Wang Xinyong? Why didn’t he come back with you?”

Gongsun Yuan looked at him blankly. “Wang Xinyong wouldn’t dare return. The King left him to guard the palace, and now the Murong clan ran away. He was chiefly responsible. He insisted on pursuing him personally. By now, he’s probably already ten kilometers away.”

Yuan Baifu: “…?”

It turned out Wang Xinyong had been right to run. After entering the city, Qu Yunmie’s first question was, where was the Xianbei Emperor detained. Upon learning Murong Yi had disappeared last night, he was absolutely furious.

“Gone since last night?! Since when last night?!”

Gongsun Yuan muttered to himself. Why did he have to follow Wang Xinyong in the investigation? He should have stayed with Yuan Baifu to guard the prisoners.

Now it was too late to complain. He lowered his head and replied humbly, “Your servant doesn’t know.”

Qu Yunmie yelled, “What are you doing?! After all this searching, you still don’t know?!”

Gongsun Yuan felt wronged. It wasn’t his fault. He had been fighting outside the city last night. The Emperor ran off during the night, and Gongsun Yuan only entered the city during the day!

Gongsun Yuan tried to defend himself, but Qu Yunmie was furious and didn’t want to hear explanations. He opened his mouth to scold again when Xiao Rong, who had been silent, suddenly coughed violently.

Qu Yunmie instantly turned and rushed to Xiao Rong, asking anxiously, “Why are you coughing? Did you catch a cold?”

Xiao Rong stepped back several meters, moving farther from Gongsun Yuan until he reached the wall. He nodded weakly, “Probably.”

Qu Yunmie’s expression tightened. He made a quick decision. “Find a place to rest first. Then I will send someone to bring Agusheja here.”

Xiao Rong: “…”

 

Edited by: Antiope

 

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