"If because of this, the Great Qin's Northern Region Protectorate breaks through directly."
"Are you going to stop them?!"
Another person said angrily, "Only a mere thousand people?"
"Back then, the Divine Martial Mansion had only three thousand people, and if a thousand elite iron cavalry, each at the Qi Nurturing Realm, are compared to five thousand scouts, how many will it take to catch them if they charge in, sustaining themselves by killing?"
"What pressure will it bring to the tribes?"
"If at that time, the Central Plains strike east and west and take the opportunity to mobilize a large army, how can it be stopped?! The rear glacier is extremely close, and it's simplest to leave them with equally elite scouts; internally, there must be no chaos."
"Do not forget, the Great Qin's Martial Emperor, and the previous emperors, are still alive!"
"What if they're alive? Are we afraid of them? Back in the day, I fought that emperor myself!"
Both were illustrious Great Generals, and their argument grew angrier, almost coming to blows, prompting the surrounding officials to instinctively edge away, since such incidents were not uncommon; the Xiongnu's Golden Tent lacked the multitude of court rules found in the Central Plains' great states.
Disputes over differing political views were common, and it was quite traditional for tempers to flare with fists and kicks, so long as no weapons were drawn, all remained normal; it was often that Great Generals accompanied by ten thousand cavalry would enter, leaving with blackened eyes, but full of pride.
But this time, it seemed to have truly ignited anger.
One was a Great General born from serfs, who had fought his way up step by step.
The other hailed from the Royal Court's nobility, could endure hardship with his soldiers, and had even clashed several times with the Great Qin Grand Commander Sima Cuo.
Both were top commanders capable of leading battles involving over two hundred thousand men, and they were furious.
Just as the two removed their armor and weapons, the Xiongnu King, seated on the jade throne, opened his eyes.
His voice was low, as if emanating directly from his belly, yet what the ministers and nobles in the Golden Tent felt more directly was akin to a black wolf charging through a snowstorm—its bass voice, nearly a suppressed roar, was known on the grasslands as a black wolf's prelude to attacking prey, symbolizing imminent danger.
The two Great Generals suddenly felt as if they had missed a step, breaking out in cold sweat and not daring to continue arguing; they knelt on the ground, not daring to lift their heads.
Armor clinked, crashing and rattling.
After some time had passed.
The Northern Xiongnu King slowly said, "The scouts on the grasslands are not to move."
The Great General advocating for some risk, to mobilize the elite early, raised his head and said, "Your Highness..."
The Northern Xiongnu King glanced at him.
"You send people to the Great Snow Mountain."
The general was momentarily stunned, then his expression changed drastically.
"The Great Snow Mountain..."
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In Jiangnan Road in June, the heat remained; under the scorching sun, willow leaves, which should be long, drooped slightly, and the cicadas' noise intensified; as the poet said, "Cicadas drone, the forest grows quieter." A gray-clad old man scratched his neck, finding no peace, only noise.
The old man lowered his hand, gulped down the wine in his cup, picked up his chopsticks, and picked up several mouthfuls of delicately crafted snacks, eating heartily. Across from him, an equally aged old man, his eyebrows tightly knitted, saw that a plate of dishes had been eaten clean and raised his hand for the servants to bring more.
Seeing his companion eating so happily, he couldn't help knocking on the table, speaking more forcefully:
"I heard that lad Gongsun took people to the glacier..."
Li Qidao sipped his wine, nodded, and continued eating.
"I heard that Wang Tiance's son is there too."
"Yes, yes, he's there."
"Yuchi, you eat, eat, don't just sit there; it's embarrassing if I'm the only one eating."
"Oh, and this dish, and this, this, let's have two more servings."
Li Qidao gestured with both hands.
Old Yuchi, expressionless, raised his hand; as the servant brought the plates, he took a deep breath and couldn't help saying:
"Aren't you planning to go north for a look?"
Li Qidao, with legs crossed, pinching a chicken bone for his teeth in his right hand, glanced at him upon hearing this, shook his head, and nonchalantly replied:
"North? No, not going. What's there to do? It's cold up there, only cattle and sheep, nothing tasty at all; no, if you want, go yourself."
"What's wrong? Are you scared, old boy?"
Li Qidao slowly replied:
"Scared? Scared of what, I ask?"
"I know what you're planning."
"But the children and grandchildren have their own blessings; the blessings are theirs, and the hardships are theirs too. If we old and dying fools answer trouble at every turn, what happens when we're no longer around? What if they can't handle it themselves? They should resolve it themselves."
"While we are still alive and can manage, they should be allowed to make mistakes and take risks; it's worth it."
Once called a crafty strategist, one who occupied a high place among the present cross-borderists, sneered, his lips barely parted, uttering two words.
Li Qidao laughed heartily.
Then looked northward.
"Speaking of the north, that person should still be there."
Old Yuchi raised a brow.
A young man pouring wine beside them, curious, said, "Are the two elders speaking of..."
Li Qidao took a sip of wine, his eyes narrowing slightly, said softly:
"An old man declared to be the world's number one Grandmaster."
When Wang Anfeng and others arrived at the largest 'city' in the Dichi Khan King's former territory, the city already barely differed from the Royal City; the Xiongnu cities only originally planned the sites, with large tents pitched in designated locations, thousands of them forming a tribe.