The curtain of rain fell, its sound immense.
Outside, a tempest raged; a bonfire was lit.
Perched upon the bonfire was an iron pot simmering with lamb. A young man in black clothing sliced rib meat with a small knife, dipped it in dipping sauce, and ate. He sat cross-legged on the grassland, appearing relaxed, yet the man facing him, adorned with a forehead ornament, looked less than pleased.
In his hands, the Seventh Prince of the Turkic twirled a curved saber—an artifact from Tuyuhun, crafted of gold with seven pigeon-egg-sized gemstones inlaid in the handle, luxurious as art yet with a blade so sharp it seemed it could slice through the northern winds.
The Seventh Prince said, "Master, your strategy was brilliant; we have occupied the vast lands of the Western Regions."
"But my elder brother has suffered great losses."
The Seventh Prince barely managed to suppress the urge to curse him as a fool.
As Yuwen Lie launched his surprise attack, the Fifth Prince of the Turkic, unable to resist the chance to establish his achievements, attacked Yuwen Lie’s originally guarded border city. The civilians had evacuated, and they defeated the original defending army and entered the city.
Little did they expect that Yuwen Lie, this fierce general, was also adept at long-range rapid assaults.
As they drunkenly celebrated, Yuwen Lie returned, set fire to the original border city of Ying Country, and incidentally stewed the Turkic cavalry, turning tens of thousands of armored elites into cooked meat. For the Fifth Prince, it was as if his martial prowess was almost completely decimated.
This time, Yuwen Lie nearly flattened all of the Fifth Prince’s accumulations.
The Fifth Prince escaped with his life. Upon learning of the Seventh Prince’s gains, he was furious and claimed that it was the Seventh Prince’s attack on the Western Regions that allowed Yuwen Lie to discover the defense vulnerability at the Fifth Prince’s position; hence, he demanded a portion of the Western Regions’ land he occupied. Even their father, the lord of the grassland under the golden tent, demanded that the Seventh Prince assist in resettling the Fifth Prince’s tribes.
The Seventh Prince’s expression turned sour.
His own conquered land, yet to be handed over to his foolish brother as compensation.
But he was utterly unable to defy the Great Khan.
At this moment, his anger was futile. Breaking Army faintly smiled and said, "I have a plan that can help you."
The Seventh Prince sat upright anxiously and said, "I am waiting on you, Master."
Breaking Army glanced outside and said, "It’s raining heavily, isn’t it?"
The Seventh Prince, puzzled, just nodded and said, "Yes, it’s the tail end of spring. The grassland will gradually enter the rainy season. The ice and snow from the mountains will melt and mingle into the rivers, spreading from the west across the entire grassland, ushering in the most beautiful time of the year."
Breaking Army said, "Yes, the terrain in the Western Regions is high, and the Turkic tribes live by the water without the custom of digging wells."
The Seventh Prince, eyes wide, turned to the young strategist and said, "What if we poison the upstream? By the time the Fifth Prince gets here, he should be less of a concern, right? The people on the grassland are very superstitious. By then, we could spread rumors that this is the Heavenly God’s wrath for the Fifth Prince seizing your inheritance."
"Combined with the deaths and the rumors, they will be utterly terrified and will surely retreat."
"The dead horses, cattle, sheep, and people will make this part of the grassland flourish."
The Seventh Prince, in great anger, drew his knife and slammed it on the table, shouting:
"You want me to poison my own people?!"
"Do you know how many will die?!!!"
Breaking Army ignored the blade and simply said:
"The death of the Fifth Prince’s tribes is better than the death of your tribes, isn’t it?"
The Seventh Prince said, "But I would rather compete with swords."
The strategist from the Central Plains laughed out loud, stood up, stretched out his hand to press down on the curved knife, his tone compelling, and said, "So, what’s the difference between killing with a sword and with poison? If you are going to kill either way, do you really need to care about a good name?"
"Are you also so concerned about your reputation? But think about it, Seventh Prince, have you considered?"
Breaking Army gazed at the Seventh Prince, a flame burning in his eyes, and said:
"Even if you give him all this land."
"They won’t remember your kindness!"
"They will think you are an immature child, afraid of his father, a fool. They will drive their horses to plunder your land, bring your beauties back to their tents, whip your warriors—and all because of your mercy at this moment."
Those words struck a chord in the Seventh Prince, and the force on his knife gradually weakened.
Gazing at Breaking Army, he seemed defeated, leaned back, picked up a vial of alcohol, and drank heartily. Finally drunk, he sighed and said, "Master, you are indeed harsh; my reputation will be ruined because of your schemes."
Breaking Army said, "If you must assign this infamy to me and feel innocent yourself, then make this decision. I don’t mind."
The Seventh Prince looked at the strategist who had voiced his inner thoughts and said nothing.
As the Seventh Prince toyed with his curved knife, the atmosphere quieted down, charged with a murderous intent, while Breaking Army continued to devour his meat. Suddenly, the Seventh Prince said, "I remember, Master, you said you wanted to return to the Central Plains. Is the grassland not good enough? Have I not been generous enough to you?"
Breaking Army said, "You’ve been quite good to me; I like the scenery and the beauties of the grassland."
The Seventh Prince said, "Then why do you want to leave?"
"Is it because I am not sincere enough?"
The Seventh Prince stepped forward, the cloak of the grassland king stirring as he knelt slightly, striking his chest with his palm:
"I have not yet fulfilled my great enterprise, so please continue to stay here, under my royal tent. You will always have your share of the estate here. One day when my battle flag shines over the grassland, you will be by my side, and the people of the grassland will cheer your honorable title, calling you the Great Khan."
He looked at the handsome young man before him, earnestness in his eyes, but his hand was also on the hilt at his waist. Such talent and strategy, if not kept here, could only be killed and buried.