Chapter Eleven: Entering the Fortress

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Zhao Huaian pondered why Xianyu Yue would say such things at this moment—and even draw his sword. In his eyes, Aqi Mo had no motive to betray them. The reasoning was simple: this man was right beside him; if he dared betray him, could he possibly survive?

Xianyu Yue surely understood this logic but still insisted on framing Lao Mo. Why?

For now, Zhao Huaian could only suppress this doubt deep in his heart. He took the initiative to approach Aqi Mo and helped him up.

“Lao Mo, I believe you.”

Aqi Mo wept, stammering to explain again, but Zhao Huaian stopped him.

Turning coldly toward Xianyu Yue, Zhao Huaian demanded, “Old Yue, you know Lao Mo would never betray us. If you want to kill him, why use such a flimsy excuse? Just kill him outright. But I’ll tell you this: I’ve sworn to protect Lao Mo. Don’t believe me? Ask my blade.”

With that, Zhao Huaian brandished the horizontal sword at Xianyu Yue and his two companions, falling silent.

Anger flickered on Xianyu Yue’s face, but restrained by Zhao Huaian, he patiently explained, “Lord Zhao, all along I noticed these barbarians leaving suspicious traces in the forest. Their behavior is dubious, truly untrustworthy. Now, they’ve led us here, attempting to deceive us into their camp with sweet words. If we fall for it, we shall surely die.”

Ren Tong, standing nearby, impatiently added, “Benefactor, why worry so much? These barbarians should simply be killed. They are like swine and dogs—over the years, they’ve wavered between the Tang, Nanzhao, and Tubo, unfaithful and fickle. I don’t trust a single word that comes from their mouths.”

Song Yuan gently advised Zhao Huaian, “Benefactor, the barbarians are indeed untrustworthy. Besides, we know the road ahead and don’t really need these people. Why risk it?”

Even Zhao Liu sidled closer, humming quietly, “They’re right. Those mountain cowards have already led the Nanzhao people before. They’re all in cahoots. Zhao Da, maybe we should just kill them.”

At last, Zhao Huaian understood the situation.

The Qionglai Mountain area where these barbarians lived was a buffer zone among Nanzhao, the Tang, and Tubo. Many tribal groups wandered between the three powers—helping Nanzhao one day, aiding Tubo the next—surely bearing blood debts against the Tang.

Xianyu Yue and his two companions clearly intended to exterminate these mixed tribes, but seemed unaware of the mountain paths, so they had held back.

Now, having reached Tongshan Pass and knowing the road ahead, they wanted to discard the barbarians like worn-out tools.

Yet Zhao Huaian would never allow them to kill Lao Mo.

If Lao Mo died, the barbarians would certainly flee. Even the three disciples he had just recruited would lose faith, and his small group would fall apart.

Wait—could it be that Xianyu Yue wished to cut off his wings and leave him powerless? After all, he had talked with him extensively on the journey; surely he had taken note.

In a flash, Zhao Huaian recalled a saying: “Invite, behead, accept as dogs.”

That bastard—I wanted to consider you a brother, yet you treat me like a dog? These ancestors, human hearts are cruel indeed.

In a lightning-quick moment, Zhao Huaian came up with a plan.

He asked Xianyu Yue, “Old Yue, to return to Qiongzhou, is it necessary to pass through Tongshan Pass?”

Xianyu Yue sighed and nodded. “Yes, to reach Qiongzhou, one must go through Tongshan Pass and follow the river eastward. I understand what you mean, but do you really trust these people?”

Zhao Huaian slapped his chest and replied gravely, “I trust them. If these barbarians truly betray me, I’ll kill them with my own hands. But now, we must not let suspicion cause us to tear each other apart. The road ahead is still long.”

Then he turned to Aqi Mo. “Lao Mo, you heard that. I believe you, but you must also make them believe. You need to pledge your loyalty.”

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Aqi Mo had never heard the term “pledge of loyalty,” but he guessed its meaning and answered Zhao Huaian resolutely, “Master, rest assured, Lao Mo is willing to do anything.”

Zhao Huaian nodded, then looked toward Sun Tai and Zhao Hu, who had stepped aside, and scolded them, “I despise insincerity above all. If you harbor other thoughts, I won’t stop you—go now. But if you still want to follow me, don’t let me catch you next time.”

Sun Tai and Zhao Hu panicked and knelt. Sun Tai boldly explained, “Master Zhao, we dare not have second thoughts. Earlier, it was only that…”

Zhao Huaian brusquely cut him off with a single sentence: “I don’t want to hear excuses. If there’s a next time, get lost! Now, stand and come behind me.”

The two trembled, kowtowed, and quickly moved behind Zhao Huaian.

With the two wavering disciples settled, Zhao Huaian instructed Aqi Mo, “Lao Mo, first explain to Yang Mao and the barbarians. You know what to say, right?”

Aqi Mo nodded repeatedly, then helped Yang Mao up and spoke with the remaining barbarians.

Though it was unclear what he said, the effect was obvious—several barbarians even smiled apologetically at Xianyu Yue.

The group gradually dispersed, the atmosphere returning to what it was before.

Zhao Huaian calmly said to Xianyu Yue, “Old Yue, now we must unite. To pass Tongshan Pass, a few of us won’t suffice—we need these barbarians. Since you distrust Lao Mo, I’ll take him ahead to scout the camp. You and the others stay here and wait for my news.”

Xianyu Yue considered for a moment, agreeing not to target the barbarians, but refused to let Zhao Huaian take the risk himself. If scouting was necessary, he would do it.

This eased much of Zhao Huaian’s suspicion. Old Yue still remembered debts of gratitude and was willing to take risks on his behalf, though he wondered why he hated the barbarians so much.

Wasn’t the Tang dynasty supposed to be tolerant?

Zhao Huaian felt somewhat comforted but shook his head and declined, “Only Lao Mo knows both languages well. How could he dare go with you to the camp? Only I can do this.”

What Zhao Huaian said was indisputable; Xianyu Yue had no response but to agree, though he hinted that if Zhao Huaian didn’t return, he would surely kill the barbarians.

Zhao Huaian didn’t care about that hint—if he died, who would bother with such things?

Having reassured Xianyu Yue and company, Zhao Huaian instructed Zhao Liu, “Old Liu, stay alert. If we want to rebuild our Lizhou army, we’ll need people. These are our future assets—keep them safe.”

Then Zhao Huaian promised Zhao Liu, “Old Liu, stick with me. Better days are ahead.”

Zhao Liu nodded vigorously, clearly buying into it.

Next, Zhao Huaian pulled Sun Tai and Zhao Hu aside. “I have high hopes for you. Surviving from the Western Regions to here means you’re fated for something. You just lack strength. So straighten up, study hard by my side. When I return, I’ll teach you the secrets of our righteous society. Work hard, don’t disappoint me.”

His words both encouraged and admonished. Sun Tai and Zhao Hu nodded repeatedly and promised to obey the “Sixth Brother.”

Sixth Brother?

Zhao Huaian was momentarily stunned, then glared at Zhao Liu, thinking bitterly, “That Old Liu is quick to steal my thunder. I’ll deal with you when I get back!”

With the ethnic tensions settled, Zhao Huaian took up his horizontal sword, donned no armor, and headed toward Tongshan Pass’s camp with Aqi Mo.

...

Walking behind Aqi Mo, Zhao Huaian’s heart trembled slightly.

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He wasn’t sure if this old barbarian would betray him, but he had no choice. In this world, without strength, one was doomed to be a dog for a family like Xianyu Yue’s.

At this moment, Zhao Huaian felt truly weary. Why was recruiting disciples so difficult?

Xianyu Yue’s trio was one thing—they were clearly a team—but even the three disciples he had gathered each harbored their own agendas.

Even Zhao Liu, barely following him, had stood behind him during the recent conflict.

Though tired, Zhao Huaian remained undeterred. He had confidence—whether with them or the world, he would forge bonds.

...

Soon, they reached the outskirts of the camp. As Lao Mo had said, it was a market with many stalls selling mountain goods.

At this moment, Aqi Mo whispered to Zhao Huaian, “Master, I see a familiar face. I’ll go ask about the situation.”

Zhao Huaian nodded, replying, “Alright, I’ll go with you.”

Aqi Mo led Zhao Huaian to a stall where an old man sold firewood. The man greeted Aqi Mo warmly.

After some conversation, Zhao Huaian cautiously surveyed the camp.

The defenses were weak—a shallow wooden palisade, evidently temporary. No sentries or patrols were present, and no one guarded the market. It seemed this troop was not permanently stationed here.

While Zhao Huaian observed, Aqi Mo had already learned the situation.

After exchanging pleasantries, he pulled Zhao Huaian aside to a quieter spot and whispered, “Master, I found out. These soldiers here are a group of Tubo troops who arrived recently. The reason is unknown, but they control this pass.”

Zhao Huaian asked an important question, “Do you know how many Tubo soldiers are in the camp?”

Aqi Mo replied, “The man didn’t know, but said a group left just yesterday.”

Zhao Huaian frowned sharply, about to discuss the next steps, when suddenly he noticed a crowd gathering ahead, voices growing louder.

Seeing this, Zhao Huaian pulled Lao Mo along to investigate.

...

Just as they squeezed through, they saw three sword-wielding warriors beating an old man.

The three looked like barbarians, with their hair tied in small braids atop their heads. Though fierce in appearance, they seemed poor—armed only with a single sword, wearing faded clothes and straw sandals.

The old man being beaten had his hair tied and wrapped in black cloth, looking like a Tang man.

Behind the three destitute barbarian warriors was a group of onlookers who laughed as they moved a bamboo basket near the old man’s feet, filled with mountain goods, rice, and several pieces of preserved rabbit meat.

The old man begged the three warriors, clutching the basket tightly and refusing to let go.

One short warrior, irritated, stomped heavily on the old man’s hand, grinding it while cursing in their native tongue.

Suddenly, a voice rang out from behind—it was Zhao Huaian, pointing at the man and asking Lao Mo loudly, “Lao Mo, what’s he cursing about?”

His voice was loud; every eye, including the three barbarian warriors, turned toward Zhao Huaian.

Zhao Huaian stared back steadily.