novelSusiti Chapter 39 Making a Secret Resolve, Talking on a Snowy Night
Chapter 39 Making a Secret Resolve, Talking on a Snowy Night
The moment Mu Yunlingyuan stepped out of the golden tent, a biting north wind, carrying hard snowflakes, lashed out like thousands of ice needles, whipping his black brocade robes wildly as if to tear him and the agreement that had just been reached to shreds.
He squinted slightly, adjusting to the sudden, blinding sunlight and the biting chill outside the tent.
The Khan's approval, the order to mobilize the three thousand Hu tribe "Canglang Cavalry", the golden seal and edict for passage... these were the tools he used to break through the fog of his return journey and pry open the deadlock of the Muyun tribe.
However, he also used the bright moon that illuminated his twelve years of darkness as a bargaining chip on the table of power.
This realization was like a boulder soaked in ice water, pressing heavily on his heart, each heartbeat bringing with it a dull, stagnant pain and a bone-chilling cold.
Having spent twelve years as a proton carrier, he had long since seen through the naked and cruel laws of the grasslands.
In a world where the strong prey on the weak and profit reigns supreme, warmth is nothing more than a fleeting glimmer of light that occasionally leaks through the cracks of power, a self-deceptive act.
He learned to be patient, to observe, and to hide his sharpness behind a smile. Only the mandala is different.
She was not a princess who was high above and needed to be looked up to, but a confidante who would silently hand him a copy of "Yan Shi" (a collection of poems about swallows) with the fragrance of dried flowers when he was silent because he missed his homeland.
She would be the guardian who would subtly stand in front of a nobleman from the Hu tribe when he was being provoked by him while drunk, and resolve the awkward situation with the dignity of a princess.
On countless snowy nights, accompanied by the solitary lamp in his tent, he would sit quietly to the side, perusing ancient Hu folk songs, bringing a touch of warmth to the cold felt tent.
Her presence was the only pure and warm color in his dark years that he could be unguarded against.
He never imagined that one day, this friendship he had carefully cherished would become part of a transaction, one of the steps he had to take as he climbed the steep cliff of power.
"In the end... it's just not enough power." He looked up, the thick, leaden-gray clouds pressing low over the vast grassland, seemingly within reach.
A very soft sigh escaped his throat, yet it was filled with twelve years of suppressed resentment and unwillingness, and was instantly swallowed up by the howling wind and snow.
"The weak don't even have the right to protect a pure heart; they must be weighed, they become bargaining chips." Deep within his eyes, beneath the long-frozen calm, a terrifying undercurrent surged.
It is the anger of being unwilling to be manipulated by fate, the humiliation of hating one's own powerlessness, and even more so, the resolute flame of burning one's boats and vowing to control everything.
"Since that's the case... then let me stand high enough! High enough to overlook the rules of this grassland, high enough that no one will dare use those I care about as a raft again, high enough that... my name, Mu Yun Ling Yuan, is the rule itself!"
The wind and snow intensified, blowing away the last bit of warmth from his lips.
He slowly concealed all the emotions leaking from his eyes, straightened his spine like a lone pine tree on a snowy plain, and his expression returned to a calm and serene one.
He took a step and walked towards the proton felt tent where he had lived for twelve years, where he was already familiar with every patch and its scent. His steps were steady, each step sinking deep into the snow and leaving a clear mark, as if he were silently measuring this path that was destined to be full of *****.
Outside the felt tent, a figure in black armor stood as if cast in iron amidst the wind and snow.
Tai Chu Cang Ye, the commander of his personal guards, held the silver halberd in his hand, which had accompanied him through countless undercurrents and crises in the Hu lands. The tip of the halberd pointed diagonally at the ground, letting snowflakes accumulate on the blade and armor plates, condensing into a thin layer of frost.
The black armor gleamed with a cold metallic luster in the dim light, the man and the gun blending seamlessly, exuding a chilling aura that kept strangers at bay.
Seeing Mu Yunlingyuan's figure approaching from afar, Cangye immediately sheathed his spear and slammed it to the ground, the armor plates clashing together to produce a crisp and chilling metallic clang.
He knelt on one knee, his voice, deep and resonant like the tolling of an ancient bell, emanating from beneath his iron helmet, filled with undisguised concern: "Master, you're back! Inside the golden tent... was everything alright?"
He asked the question subtly, but his tense posture revealed that he had already sensed that this matter was of great importance.
Mu Yunlingyuan did not stop walking; he simply raised his hand to brush away the snowflakes that had accumulated on his shoulders and the top of his head, his movements composed.
His gaze swept across the dark night, landing on the slightly worn curtain of the felt tent. His tone was calm and even, yet it exuded an undeniable air of authority:
"It's nothing serious, Cang Ye. Set off immediately and secretly invite Mr. Wang Jinglue over. Tell him I have something important to discuss with him."
"Yes, sir!" Tai Chu Cang Ye accepted the order without hesitation, clasping his hands in a fist salute. Before his words had even finished, he had already moved, leaping out like a black panther that had been gathering its strength for a long time.
In a few leaps, it blended into the swirling snow and withered meadows, moving so fast that it left only a fleeting afterimage gradually covered by snowflakes and faint, almost silent footprints on the snow.
Mu Yun Lingyuan lifted the heavy felt curtain and stepped into the tent alone.
The fierce wind and snow outside were instantly shut out, and the tent was unusually quiet, with only the occasional crackling of the charcoal fire in the copper basin in the corner.
A lone lamp flickered on the desk, its dim yellow light barely illuminating a small area, which happened to fall on the open pages of "The Chronicles of the Great Yan".
That was a history book he often read, and at this moment he was turning to the chapter "Emperor Taizu of Yan Raises His Sword to Pacify the Four Seas". The traces of his daytime contemplation still seemed to remain between the lines, and the ink was slightly faint where he read it repeatedly.
He sat down on the old wolf-skin-covered folding bed behind the desk, his cool fingertips slowly tracing the powerful words on the pages.
The heaviness and turmoil in his eyes caused by the mandala gradually receded like the tide, replaced by a cold and sharp clarity, as deep and resolute as the coldest night sky in the northern frontier.
The arrow of returning to the tribe is already on the bowstring, and the struggle for the throne is unavoidable. The strength of the Hu tribe can be borrowed, but it must never be relied upon as the foundation.
The real game of chess is in the Muyun tribe, in the Xiongnu royal court. He must make his moves as quickly as possible and, in the unpredictable situation, fight for a chance of survival, or even... a chance of victory.
After about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the felt curtain was gently lifted again, without disturbing the wind and snow outside.
A figure dressed in a slightly worn plain-colored robe, with a slender and upright posture, slowly walked in.
The newcomer was about twenty-five years old, with a thin face and slightly prominent cheekbones. His eyes, however, were strikingly bright, and instead of an aggressive edge, they were calm and deep, as if they could easily see through the ups and downs of people's hearts and the light and shadow of the situation. It was Wang Meng, Wang Jinglue.
He entered the tent, his gaze first sweeping over the scene inside without making a sound, then passing over the solitary lamp and the open history book, finally settling on Mu Yunlingyuan's calm and composed face.
He then stepped forward, bowed deeply, his posture respectful yet not subservient, his voice steady and deep, carrying a strange, comforting power: "Your subordinate, Wang Meng, pays respects to the Crown Prince."
The manners were impeccable and just right.
Mu Yunlingyuan raised his eyes, his gaze falling on Wang Meng, the deliberately maintained coldness softening slightly. He raised a hand in a gesture of support, pointing to the felt cushion on the other side of the table:
"Mr. Jinglue has arrived. No need for formalities, please have a seat."
Compared to when he was speaking to Cangye or Guli Khan, his tone was noticeably more sincere and gentle, showing a greater sense of reliance and equality.
In this land of Hu, where everything requires calculation, Wang Meng is the only person with whom he can truly discuss the general trend of the world, analyze the advantages and disadvantages, and plan for the long term. He is Wang Meng's only confidant and reliance on wisdom.
Wang Meng sat down as instructed, his posture relaxed yet naturally respectful.
His gaze swept over the book "The Chronicles of the Great Yan" on the table again, and he carefully savored the lingering solemnity between Mu Yun Lingyuan's brows and the unquenched flame deep in his eyes. He had already guessed seven or eight parts of the reason for this summons.
But he remained calm, even displaying a perfectly balanced mix of bewilderment and concern, and took the initiative to probe:
"I wonder if Your Highness has summoned me here so urgently because you have something important to tell me? I have vaguely heard recently that an envoy from the Muyun tribe has arrived at the royal court... Could it be related to Your Highness's return to your tribe?"
He steered the conversation in a safe and obvious direction, waiting for Mu Yun Ling Yuan to reveal the real mystery.
Mu Yun Lingyuan did not answer immediately, but instead reached out and picked up a bowl of warm mare's milk wine from the table. The wine was slightly warm, and the aroma of milk mixed with a faint scent of alcohol lingered in the air.
He did not drink it, but slowly turned the rough rim of the earthenware bowl with his fingertips, his gaze lowered as he stared at the slightly rippling milky white waves in the bowl, as if they reflected the turbulent future.
A moment later, he raised his head, his gaze as deep as the night, and looked directly at Wang Meng, his tone so calm that it revealed neither joy nor anger:
"Your prediction is correct. Just now in the Golden Tent, I made a preliminary agreement with Khan Guli. I will set off in three days to return to the Muyun tribe in the east."
He paused, his gaze fixed on Wang Meng's reaction, his tone carrying a barely perceptible weight and a hint of probing that only they could understand:
"Everything is proceeding as previously planned."
What he wanted to know was not only Wang Meng's opinion on the return of the troops, but also whether this strategist on whom he placed high hopes truly understood the turbulent undercurrents beneath his calm surface, and whether he dared to embark with him on this seemingly hopeful but actually fraught path to the throne.
A flicker of realization and delight flashed across Wang Meng's eyes at just the right moment. He cupped his hands and said:
"This is a joyous occasion! The prince has been imprisoned in the north for twelve years, enduring countless hardships. Today, he is finally able to return to his homeland and restore his ancestral temple. This is truly a divine mandate, a cause for celebration!"