Book 2 Chapter 73

Mo Jian and Muxue crested a low hill and saw Sighnaq from the ground for the first time.

From above, the great encampment had seemed almost orderly, its thousands upon thousands of tents forming a sprawling pattern across the Galloping Plains, broken by courtyards, grazing grounds, and broad open spaces. From the ground, however, that order was much harder to see.

At first glance, Sighnaq appeared almost haphazard, as though someone had simply scattered tents across the grass and decided that whatever arrangement they landed in was good enough.

White and gray tents stretched in every direction, gathered into loose clusters rather than neat rows. Some were enormous, round structures with broad, sweeping roofs, while others were little more than practical family dwellings. Smoke rose from hundreds of cooking fires and furnaces, drifting lazily across the camp before being carried away by the wind, mingling with the dust stirred up by the constant movement of people and beasts.

There was no clear boundary where Sighnaq began. The grass simply gave way to tents, and the tents gradually became more numerous until they filled the landscape.

Mo Jian followed Muxue down the slope and into the outskirts of the city. The first dwelling they passed was a circular structure built around a wooden lattice frame. Thick felt covered the walls, while a ring of wood supported the roof at the center, leaving an opening above the hearth for smoke to escape. The construction was simple and clearly designed to be dismantled, yet there was an efficiency to it that Mo Jian appreciated. The entire structure could probably be packed away and transported with surprising speed.

He knew better than to judge the Yuan's wealth from the outside. Most of the tents looked similar at first glance, but the differences became obvious once one paid attention. Some had better felt, sturdier frames, or spiritual formations worked into their walls. Others had finely carved poles, embroidered banners, or servants waiting outside. The wealthier families simply had more space, more attendants, and more valuable beasts tethered nearby.

As they went deeper into the camp, the sounds and smells of Sighnaq became more pronounced. The air carried the scent of woodsmoke, wool, cooked meat, leather, and animals. Thousand Mile Horses were everywhere, tethered in groups outside tents, grazing freely at the edges of the encampment, carrying riders through the crowds, or pulling heavily laden wagons between the various quarters. Some were being groomed, others saddled, and still others were being led away by children who seemed barely old enough to reach their backs.

The Yuan moved constantly among them. Herders led their beasts between the tents, warriors returned from patrols with weapons slung across their backs, and attendants carried baskets and wooden containers between neighboring dwellings. Children ran through the grass, laughing and shouting, while messengers hurried from one part of the camp to another. Craftsmen sat beneath awnings, repairing weapons, saddles, harnesses, and magical tools. Merchants shouted their wares from beneath colorful canopies, while travelers and members of distant tribes paused to bargain with them. The steady rhythm of hooves and the creak of leather accompanied nearly every conversation.

The arrangement of the camp reflected the Yuan themselves. Paths were broad enough to accommodate their four-legged bodies, and the entrances to the larger tents were wide and tall. Wagons were positioned wherever they could be loaded quickly, while portable pens held animals that were being prepared for travel or trade. Yet for all the animals and all the activity, there was remarkably little that suggested permanence. Even the storage facilities were temporary. Grain, dried meat, fodder, and other supplies were kept in structures that could be dismantled and loaded onto wagons, and Mo Jian saw several groups of Yuan repairing carts that looked capable of carrying entire households. Everywhere he looked, the necessities of daily life had been arranged with mobility in mind.

And yet, there was nothing primitive about it.

A family prepared a meal beside one tent while a craftsman nearby repaired a magical saddle, carefully working spiritual fire through its leather to refine it. A group of riders came galloping into the camp, stirring up winds as they descended from the sky, and within moments several Yuan had gathered around them to hear whatever news they had brought. Servants carried messages between larger compounds, while merchants displayed weapons, clothing, medicines, spiritual materials, and other goods beneath temporary awnings.

Spiritual beasts were woven into nearly every part of life in Sighnaq. Spiritual oxen stood patiently while their owners milked them, Pure Feather Cranes were being groomed beside several larger tents, and horses of every variety were being watered and saddled. Three-Headed Dogs lounged near their masters' dwellings, while Steel Scale Serpents rested in reinforced enclosures. Further along, Mo Jian saw several Hump-Backed Manticores being tended by a group of handlers, their broad bodies dwarfing the Yuan standing beside them.

The deeper they went, the more prosperous the encampment became. The tents grew larger and more elaborate, and the spaces between them widened. Banners appeared more frequently, their designs marking the clans and households that occupied each compound. Guards stood outside some of the larger dwellings, while servants moved constantly between them carrying messages and supplies.

Far ahead, on a gentle rise near the center of the encampment, stood the ordu of Urud Khan. Mo Jian had seen palaces in the Empire that were smaller. The ordu was a vast collection of interconnected tents and compounds, dominated by several enormous ceremonial structures whose white felt walls were decorated with intricate patterns and brightly colored banners. Wooden towers and poles rose above the surrounding dwellings, displaying the standards of the White Horde. Spiritual formations shimmered faintly around some of the larger structures, visible only when the sunlight struck them at the right angle.

Thousands of Yuan lived and worked within the ordu. Guards patrolled its approaches, while administrators moved between the various compounds carrying jade slips and bundles of documents. Craftsmen maintained weapons, armor, saddles, and other magical equipment. Merchants waited beneath designated awnings, hoping for an opportunity to sell their wares to members of the ruling household. Foreign envoys and representatives of distant tribes came and went beneath the watchful eyes of the Khan's retainers.

Religious figures were present as well, identifiable by their distinctive robes and ornaments, while members of Urud Khan's household traveled through the compound accompanied by attendants and guards.

The number of spiritual beasts increased as they approached the ordu. Some were mounts, others served as guardians, and a few were clearly status symbols belonging to particularly powerful members of the Horde. Their handlers moved among them with practiced ease, feeding and grooming them while keeping a careful eye on the surrounding crowds.

Mo Jian slowed as he looked toward the Khan's court. Sighnaq was certainly different from the cities he knew. The Empire's great cities were built from stone and wood, with permanent streets and buildings that had stood for generations. Sighnaq had achieved much the same scale without abandoning the traditions of the steppe. Its markets, workshops, residences, and government all moved with the Horde, and every part of the city seemed designed around the possibility that one day the tents would be dismantled, the beasts saddled, and the entire population would simply ride away.

For a city that could disappear at a moment's notice, it was remarkably prosperous. Mo Jian and Muxue followed one of the broader paths deeper into the encampment. They had no particular destination in mind. Their purpose was simply to familiarize themselves with Sighnaq while they had the opportunity, and there was plenty to see. The first thing Mo Jian noticed was how little distinction there was between the city's residential and commercial quarters. A family might live in one tent, sell leather goods from another, and keep its livestock tethered behind both. A blacksmith's furnace stood beside a cooking fire, while a merchant's wagon had been positioned directly across from a tent where several children were practicing their writing.

The arrangement looked disorderly until one spent enough time watching it. Then the logic became apparent. The Yuan had organized their lives around what they needed most. Everything was close at hand, and almost everything could be dismantled and moved. They soon reached a large open space where dozens of merchants had gathered. Some had set up simple wooden tables beneath awnings, while others had brought entire wagons whose sides opened to reveal shelves packed with goods. The market was crowded, and the noise of bargaining rose above the steady sounds of hooves and conversation.

Mo Jian slowed as they passed the first few stalls. There were weapons, spiritual herbs, beast materials, cured hides, medicinal ingredients, jewelry, clothing, food, and countless varieties of riding equipment. Saddles were particularly common, ranging from simple leather affairs to elaborate magical artifacts covered in formations. Several craftsmen were demonstrating portable formations that could be erected around a campsite in a matter of breaths, while others sold collapsible furnaces, cooking utensils, storage chests, and wagons reinforced with spiritual materials.

It was a market shaped by the needs of a people who traveled. Even the cultivation goods reflected that lifestyle. Mo Jian saw bottles of pills intended to replenish stamina after long journeys, talismans designed to repel spiritual beasts, and compact formations that could protect an entire camp for a night. There were also large quantities of materials gathered from the Plains, many of which Mo Jian had never encountered before.

Muxue stopped at a stall displaying small carved ornaments.

The stall itself was little more than a wooden frame covered by a faded blue awning, but the old felt rug spread across the ground beneath it was crowded with trinkets. Most were shaped like animals associated with the steppe: horses caught in mid-gallop, long-winged eagles, wolves with bared teeth, and squat little oxen with exaggerated horns. Some were carved from pale bone, others from dark horn or polished wood. A thread of qi had been worked into each piece, so faint that Mo Jian could barely sense it. The ornaments were clearly meant to be worn or hung from a saddle rather than used as proper spiritual artifacts.

Muxue picked up a pendant shaped like a running horse. "This is pretty."

The shopkeeper, a squat Yuan with scales covering half his body, nodded fervently. "Only five spirit stones," he said. "A steal at this price."

Mo Jian looked at it. The horse had four legs, although two of them were noticeably thicker than the others, and its head was slightly too large for its body. The carving was rough enough that he could see the marks left by the blade. He searched for something polite to say and came up empty. "No."

Muxue gave him a sidelong look, before snorting and putting the pendant back. They moved on, the shopkeeper's, "Alright, Alright. Four spirit stones – no three-" trailing behind them. They continued through the market, carried along by the slow current of the crowd. Their disguises had done exactly what they were supposed to do. No one looked at them twice. They were simply another pair of young Yuan cultivators wandering through Sighnaq, with enough time on their hands to browse the stalls and spend a few spirit stones.

The realization allowed Mo Jian to relax. He had spent so long expecting trouble that it was almost strange to discover that ordinary life continued around them. A merchant leaned over his counter, arguing with a customer who insisted that a saddle was worth half the asking price. Two children darted between the legs of passing Yuan until their mother caught one by the arm and dragged him back. A rider – two legged and on a Thousand Mile Horse – returning from the Plains dismounted beside a water trough, and three other Yuan immediately gathered around him, asking questions about the road.

A butcher was shouting the day's prices for cuts of spiritual ox, while beside him an elderly woman was haggling over a bundle of dried herbs. Somewhere farther down the market, a blacksmith – the Yuan alchemists focused on elixirs and medicines, rather than magical tools – struck metal with a steady rhythm, each blow ringing over the voices of the crowd. The market smelled of roasting meat, horse sweat, smoke, leather, and spices. It reminded Mo Jian, unexpectedly, of the markets he had visited in the Empire.

The goods were different, the people looked different, and the stalls were arranged beneath felt awnings rather than permanent buildings, but the habits were much the same. People still wanted good bargains. They still complained about prices. They still bought food for their families and gifts for their children. Merchants still exaggerated the quality of their wares, and customers still pretended not to be interested in something they clearly wanted. The realization made Sighnaq seem considerably less alien.

"Fortunes! Get your fortune told here! Only two spirit stones!" The cry cut through the surrounding noise.

Mo Jian turned his head. The fortune teller was one of the oldest Yuan he had ever seen. She sat hunched over a low wooden stool between two neighboring stalls, almost disappearing beneath a patched brown cloak. Her face was deeply wrinkled, and the milky-white scales covering her skin had grown brittle with age, flaking away in places to reveal the darker skin beneath. Her eyes were completely white, with nothing to suggest that she could see at all. A small wooden board had been placed in front of her.

FORTUNES – TWO SPIRIT STONES.

Below it, someone had painted a crude image of an eye surrounded by eight trigrams. Her possessions consisted of a battered wooden bowl, several worn strips of bone marked with symbols, and a little storage pouch that leaked qi whenever she moved. She was wedged between two far more successful merchants. One displayed slabs of salted spiritual beast meat on hooks, while the other had an assortment of cured hides and brightly decorated saddles arranged in careful rows.

Neither merchant appeared remotely interested in her, nor did the passing Yuan. Most walked straight past without even glancing in her direction. Mo Jian suspected he knew why. Every market in the Empire had someone like this. A fortune teller, a diviner, a palm reader, a wandering monk, or some other eccentric offering enlightenment to anyone willing to part with a few spirit stones. The usual combination of vague predictions and carefully chosen words could make almost anyone feel that the heavens had personally taken an interest in their future.

He was already turning away when Muxue stopped. Her golden eyes had brightened and she immediately made a beeline for the woman. He followed with considerably less enthusiasm.

"For someone who claims to have seen the future, you are remarkably resistant to the idea of divination," Muxue complained quietly as they approached.

Mo Jian lowered his voice. "I've seen the future. That's precisely how I know these fortune tellers are scammers. If they had seen even half of what is coming, they'd be screaming in terror and running for their lives."

They reached the stall before Mo Jian could say anything else. The old woman had been sitting motionless, her hands resting atop her knees. As Muxue stopped before her, the woman's head turned with uncanny precision until her blind eyes were facing them. Blindness among cultivators was strange – it was barely debilitating because of spiritual sense, but it could have other meanings.

Muxue crouched slightly so that she was closer to the woman's level and smiled. "Well met, emee," she said warmly. "My friend and I would like our fortunes told."

The old woman smiled back, revealing toothless gums, and reached for the scattered bones with surprising dexterity. Mo Jian watched her fingers move across them and quickly realized what he was looking at. They were phalanges, and judging by their size, they had belonged to children.

The old woman seemed to notice his interest. "Six fingers taken from the seventh son of a seventh son," she explained, lifting the bones one by one, "and one from the sixth daughter of a sixth daughter. Together, they point toward the future." She gave the bones a practiced shake and tossed them onto the wooden board. They struck the surface with a dry clatter, bounced across one another, and settled in a loose arrangement.

The woman stared at them for a moment before letting out a dramatic gasp. Her withered fingers immediately went to work, turning the pieces over and tracing the symbols carved into their surfaces. She examined each one with exaggerated care, occasionally pausing to mutter beneath her breath.

"Ah," she said at last. "Ah, such fortunes. Such destiny." She suddenly snapped her fingers and beckoned them closer. "Quickly, quickly. Lean in. No one else can hear." A qi barrier rose around the stall. Mo Jian nearly laughed when he sensed it. The thing was so flimsy that even a novice cultivator would have been able to see through it, and it offered practically no concealment at all. It was clearly meant to create the appearance of secrecy rather than provide any actual protection.

Muxue played along without hesitation. She stepped closer and crouched beside the old woman, who reached out and rested both hands on her scaled shoulders before leaning toward her ear. Mo Jian could hear every word.

"A grand destiny waits for you, daughter," the old woman whispered. "I saw it in the bones. Shagai never lies." Her fingers moved slowly across the pieces scattered on the board. "The horse crossed with the camel. That means there is a long and difficult journey ahead of you. You will travel far from the place you began, and the road will not be easy. But if you survive it, untold riches will be yours." She shifted to another pair of bones. "The sheep and the goat fell at cross-purposes, both touching the rose. That means love will bring you trouble. It will lead you in a direction different from the one you desire, and you may find yourself forced to choose between what your heart wants and the path you have already chosen."

The old woman's hand stopped. "The imp and the shaman both loom over the others." Her voice dropped further. "Beware a soft-spoken man who comes to you with a proposal." Mo Jian's amusement had disappeared by then. He found himself listening carefully. The old woman moved one final bone. "And above them all was the khanate." She fell silent for several breaths. "That means an eye is upon you," she said finally. "An eye of great power."

Her fingers withdrew from the bones. "A grand destiny, indeed." The last words were spoken with a strange note of resignation.

Mo Jian had leaned forward without realizing it. That was… he still could not say whether what he had witnessed was genuine divination. The old woman's method was crude, and he had no idea what principles governed the arrangement of the bones. Perhaps she was simply extraordinarily skilled at reading people and constructing a convincing story around a handful of symbols. But if it was a scam, it was a remarkably good one. Several details had been far too precise for comfort.

Beside him, Muxue was unusually quiet. Her golden eyes gave away little, but Mo Jian knew her well enough to notice the subtle tension in her shoulders and the thoughtful expression that had settled across her face. "Thank you, emee," she said softly. She straightened and stepped away from the stall. For a moment, she simply stood there, apparently lost in thought. Then she turned toward Mo Jian and gestured for him to take her place.

With barely any hesitation, Mo Jian crouched beside the stall. The old woman turned toward him. This time, she did not smile. Perhaps she had sensed his earlier skepticism, or perhaps there was simply something about his presence that made her take the reading more seriously. Without comment, she gathered the bones from the board and shook them between her palms before casting them again.

They landed in a pattern quite different from Muxue's. The old woman studied them for a long moment, her fingers moving carefully from one piece to another. "The horse crossed with the camel," she said at last, "except for the imp, which cuts between them both."

Mo Jian waited.

"You will venture into lands where few have gone before. Danger will follow you from every side, and the road ahead will be difficult. It will be hard for you to survive."

Mo Jian stared at her. What was he supposed to say to that? No, thank you. I'd rather not. Unfortunately, the old woman showed no indication that the reading could be revised. She moved another bone with the tip of her finger.

"The rose and the goat. Love and death will come together for you. Seek one upon the path where the other lies."

Mo Jian's expression tightened slightly.

The old woman's voice had softened, and there was a trace of sympathy in it now. "The shaman is strange. He stands at the edge, but his shadow falls across everything. A choice awaits you, and it will soon shape the rest of your life. It will be a choice of faith and belief." Her fingers moved once more. "And finally, the camel, signifying great wealth." She paused. "But little to spend it on."

For several moments after she finished, Mo Jian simply stared at the bones. He had plenty of reasons to dismiss the entire thing. The symbols were vague enough that almost anything could be attached to them, and a skilled fortune teller could probably make almost any arrangement sound meaningful. Yet the old woman's reading had been specific enough to leave him uncomfortable, particularly after hearing what she had told Muxue. He was not willing to call it genuine divination, but neither could he honestly dismiss it as an ordinary market scam.

He opened his mouth, still unsure whether he wanted to ask for clarification or make some remark, but before he could settle on either, Muxue reached into her storage pouch and pressed ten spirit stones into the old woman's hands. "Thank you, emee," she said softly. "We'll be on our way."

She caught Mo Jian by the arm before he could protest and pulled him back into the flow of the market. For a while, they let the crowd carry them along without any particular destination, weaving between stalls and passing beneath the colorful awnings that stretched from tent to tent.

"So," Muxue said after a while, her tone deliberately casual, "it seems you are planning to go somewhere very far away." There was something beneath the words that Mo Jian could not quite decipher. He glanced at her, but her expression revealed nothing.

Rather than answer, he rolled his eyes. "You received almost the same reading when it came to traveling. By that logic, we will both be going somewhere very far away."

Muxue gave a small, disapproving tsk and raised one finger as though preparing to correct a particularly slow student. "Mine said I would undertake a journey. What are we doing right now if not that? This is already a journey, and quite a significant one at that. If we succeed, we will gain more wealth than either of us has any need for." She lowered her hand and looked at him. "Your fortune was different."

Mo Jian knew that. That was precisely what bothered him. By now, the question of whether the old woman's divination had been genuine had been pushed firmly aside. Whether she had truly glimpsed the future or simply possessed an uncanny ability to read the bones, the words had lodged themselves in his mind. There was little in his present plans that suggested he would soon venture into lands where few people had gone before, yet the world was vast enough that he could think of several places where such a description might apply.

The Dead Wastes came immediately to mind. He decided he did not particularly want to think about that possibility.

"I am not planning to go anywhere," he said firmly. He spoke with enough conviction that he was not entirely sure whether he was trying to convince Muxue or himself. "My life is already more dangerous than I would like. If I had the choice, I'd live a quiet and thoroughly unremarkable life from now on. I could stay in the Palace for a while, perhaps, and then spend a few years traveling around the Empire. See some places I've never visited, eat some good food, and generally avoid getting involved in anything that might result in someone trying to kill me."

Muxue made a quiet sound of disapproval. "Hmph." She sounded as though she had just discovered that someone she had considered promising possessed absolutely no ambition.

Mo Jian ignored her. He was being perfectly honest.

"Still," she said after a moment, her voice softening, "I am glad to hear that. I've gotten used to having you around, and Uncle Tiger would probably miss you as well if you suddenly disappeared. You can stay with me for as long as you like."

Mo Jian's steps faltered for half a heartbeat.

Ah. That was not something he had expected her to say. He was not deaf. He could hear the things Muxue had left unsaid just as clearly as the words themselves, but that did not make them any easier to answer. The problem was that he did not know what his own answer was. He could not give her one when he had not yet figured it out himself. Fortunately, the market provided him with an escape before he had to try.

"Molten Scorpion pincers!" a merchant shouted from somewhere ahead. "Molten Scorpion pincers! Two for the price of one! Eat them and find your control over flame increasing! Freshly hunted, with their qi barely dissipated! Three hundred spirit stones for the pair!"

Mo Jian turned toward the voice. A Yuan merchant stood behind a low wooden counter piled with spiritual beast materials. Several large pincers had been arranged prominently across a bed of crushed ice, their dark red shells still carrying traces of residual heat. Thin wisps of steam rose from them and disappeared into the afternoon air.

The merchant slapped one hand against the counter. "Three hundred spirit stones! Two pincers from a freshly killed Molten Scorpion, harvested before the beast's qi could dissipate! Perfect for fire cultivators!"

Molten Scorpions were Rank Five spirit beasts, and although they were not particularly difficult to find in the Steppes, their pincers remained a useful cultivation resource. Consuming them could improve a cultivator's control over flame, allowing their qi to transform more readily to fire. The effect could not be accumulated, however. One pair was enough; eating another two hundred pincers would do nothing beyond making a person profoundly miserable. Mo Jian had heard of them even when he had first reached Core Formation. At the time, the pincers had been far too exotic and expensive for him to consider buying them. Now, three hundred spirit stones was hardly worth thinking about.

"Might as well," he said.

He paid the merchant, who immediately wrapped the two pincers in a sheet of treated hide and handed them over.

Mo Jian examined his purchase with some suspicion. Each pincer was nearly as long as his forearm, its dark red carapace still carrying a trace of residual heat. Muxue watched him with an expression of restrained amusement, but she said nothing. He broke one of the pincers into a smaller piece and tried to bite through it. Even with qi reinforcing his teeth, the shell was hard enough to make his jaw ache. After a second attempt, he gave up on the idea of eating it whole and instead wrapped it in his fire, gradually reducing the carapace and the flesh within to a thick, steaming slurry. He swallowed it in one mouthful.

The effect was immediate. Heat spread down his throat and settled heavily in his stomach, carrying a concentrated thread of fire qi with it. Mo Jian circulated his qi and guided the energy through his meridians. The sensation was unpleasant but harmless, and after several breaths, the foreign qi began to disperse. However-

He grimaced. "Blegh. That tasted horrible. I hope it starts working soon."

Muxue rolled her eyes, which was a strangely impressive feat given the solid golden color of her disguised eyes. "You do realize that whatever effect it has will be minimal at your stage, don't you? It might have been useful when you were at Core Formation, but now you're already too strong for it to make any difference. It certainly won't do much for me."

Mo Jian waved away the objection. "I know," he said. "But it was inexpensive, and I had never tried one before."

Muxue considered that, then nodded. "Fair enough."

They wandered for another quarter of an hour, gradually moving toward one of the larger squares in the market. Mo Jian had begun wondering whether Sighnaq had anything resembling an inn when they passed a broad piece of cured hide stretched between two wooden poles. A map had been painted across it. Several Yuan were gathered around the display, examining the markings and pointing toward different portions of the hide while they talked among themselves. Mo Jian slowed, immediately interested. They had seen Sighnaq from above, but the view from the sky had given them little sense of how the encampment was actually organized. A proper map would be far more useful, particularly if they intended to cross the city without attracting attention.

The group around the map gradually dispersed and another group immediately took its place. Mo Jian and Muxue exchanged a glance before approaching. They had taken only a few steps when a Foundation Establishment Yuan came striding through the market. The surrounding cultivators instinctively moved aside to make room. The newcomer did not bother asking anyone to clear the way; he simply pushed through the crowd, elbows and shoulders sending several Qi Condensation cultivators stumbling backward.

Mo Jian and Muxue stepped aside with everyone else, waiting at the edge of the gathering while pretending to examine some of the nearby wares. The stronger Yuan studied the map for several minutes before finally losing interest and moving on. Once the space opened, the two of them stepped forward.

The map covered a considerable portion of the stretched hide, and whoever had drawn it was clearly familiar with Sighnaq. The outer reaches of the encampment were marked with grazing grounds, wells, livestock pens, and several broad routes leading in from the surrounding Plains. Hundreds of smaller circles represented individual tents and family compounds, while larger symbols marked markets, workshops, military grounds, and administrative districts. Even at this scale, the map conveyed how immense the city was.

The center of Sighnaq was considerably denser. The ordu occupied the highest ground, surrounded by several concentric districts that contained the larger compounds of the ruling families and their retainers. Broad, packed-earth thoroughfares radiated outward from the center before gradually giving way to the irregular paths of the outer camp. Beyond the main encampment, the map became increasingly sparse, with only major landmarks and the routes connecting them marked in any detail.

Mo Jian's gaze lingered on one of those landmarks. The Hoofprints of Nezha were represented by a series of enormous circles to the north, each large enough to swallow a settlement. Their position gave him a better sense of just how far they still had to travel.

They eventually moved on, allowing the crowd to carry them toward one of the broad tracks leading toward the outskirts. Once they were far enough from the map and the surrounding noise had swallowed their conversation, Mo Jian brought up the question it had reminded him of. "Do you think Tayang Khan will come to the last Hoofprint?"

Muxue pursed her lips before giving a small shrug. "I hope so. Most of what I know about him comes from scattered reports and whatever information has become public over the years. Our fathers were friends, but that does not tell me much about the man he has become." She was quiet for a moment before continuing. "Still, the bait we left him was tempting, and the trap beneath it should be obvious enough to anyone with sense. If Tayang is as intelligent as the reports suggest, he will come."

There was a faint irritation in her voice when she added, "If he doesn't, then we'll have to find him ourselves. That will cost us more time than I want to spend here."

Mo Jian said nothing at first. In that respect, Muxue was still inexperienced. Plans rarely survived contact with the enemy, and theirs was already beginning to stretch beyond the neat timetable she had originally established. They had intended to reach the heartlands within half a month. That was theoretically possible in the Northern Steppes, where various unique geographical features and spirit beasts made long-distance travel considerably faster than ordinary people could manage, but Mo Jian had considered the schedule overly ambitious from the beginning.

In some ways, it reminded him of Chengxuan.

The two had been enemies for years, and Muxue hated him deeply, but hatred did not prevent a person from learning. If anything, an enemy could sometimes leave a deeper impression than a friend. Chengxuan was famous for turning elaborate strategies into realities with an efficiency that bordered on the absurd. The novel had never explained precisely how he managed it, since Ye Chen had simply cut through his plans by killing him, only to discover afterward that removing Chengxuan from the board had unleashed several new problems that would occupy entire volumes of the story.

Whatever methods Chengxuan had used, Muxue was attempting something similar now: constructing a complicated plan in which every movement depended upon the next and hoping that the entire thing would unfold according to schedule. It was an approach worthy of the crown prince, though Mo Jian suspected she would have been irritated by the comparison, particularly if he pointed it out to her. Yet it was an interesting reminder of how profoundly a person could be shaped by an enemy. Sometimes the people one opposed left a greater mark than those one loved.

"Even if Tayang doesn't come," Mo Jian said, "we can still use the Dead Sea to thin out the other Khans. If enough of them take the bait, and the clone can hold out long enough..." He let the sentence trail off, because there was no need to finish it. If the plan worked, the balance of power in the Northern Steppes would change before they ever reached its heartlands.

Muxue nodded emphatically. "It would be best if we could take out Chiggis with it. I would not complain about Batuk dying either. Mongke is more cautious, but he leads one of the major hordes and remains too dangerous to leave alive." Her expression hardened as she continued listing the names. "Khulutun is even more troublesome. She is considerably more dangerous than Mongke, and she is at least as intelligent as Chiggis, which makes her a threat we cannot afford to underestimate. As for Mandukhai..." Muxue's expression became thoughtful. "I would prefer to have her kneeling before Tayang when the time comes."

Mo Jian glanced at her.

"Mandukhai was one of the strongest voices in favor of greater cooperation with the Empire against the Yeti of the White Wastes," Muxue explained. "If she led one of the major hordes, she might even have succeeded in changing the balance between the Steppes and the Empire. When the time comes, I think she may be willing to listen to reason."

Mo Jian nodded. That assessment seemed reasonable enough. Of all the Khans they had discussed, Mandukhai sounded like one of the few whose interests might eventually align with theirs.

"Though all of that depends on us reaching Jenghiz's grave alive first," he said. "You still haven't told me how you discovered its location."

Muxue glanced at him from the side, then smiled faintly. "I suppose there is little point in being coy about it now that we're this far from the Palace. The truth is that my father was the one who discovered it. He pieced the location together from scattered reports and by searching through enormous quantities of scrolls and jade slips in the imperial archives." She paused before adding, "The real archives, I mean. He had access to them as Crown Prince."

Mo Jian gestured for her to continue, only half paying attention to the crowd of Yuan they passed along the way. Four young warriors had formed a line beside one of the market stalls and were engaged in a drinking contest, while a pair of spectators kept score. Large horns filled with mare's milk and Death Wine were passed down the line, and each contestant drained his drink in great gulps before slamming the empty horn onto the table and reaching for the next. The crowd roared its approval whenever one of them finished ahead of the others, and one particularly broad Yuan was already swaying on his feet despite insisting that he could continue.

Muxue paid them no attention and continued with her explanation. "I know he never revealed the full extent of his research to anyone except me, but that did not prevent other people from putting together fragments of it. Several officials and scholars had access to portions of the records, and some of them were clever enough to recognize what those fragments meant. Fortunately, the information that actually matters has remained concealed."

She continued speaking as they walked, occasionally stepping aside to avoid groups of Yuan passing through the market. "Jenghiz's grave is not truly a secret within the Empire. We have records of its existence going back a long way, because Grandfather actually ventured there long ago after the Great Khan's death."

Mo Jian turned toward her. "Your grandfather went there himself?"

Muxue nodded. "After Ogedei's reign began. He wanted to see the place with his own eyes." Her expression became slightly more serious. "He came back with a minor injury."

Mo Jian's brows rose at that.

Muxue seemed to understand his reaction. "It shocked the entire court. He never gave a detailed account, only remarking that the 'beasts of the interior have no reasoning' and that he had to 'put in a bit of effort.'" Muxue's mouth curved slightly. "As you can imagine, those remarks caused quite a stir among the people who understood what they implied."

"I imagine so."

"There is only one place in the entire Steppes where the creatures could have challenged him to that extent," Muxue continued. "The heart of the Northern Steppes." She looked toward the open grassland beyond the outer edge of Sighnaq. "The territory of the Horde Without End."

.................................................................................

AN:This is basically two chapters rolled into one, because I couldn't find a proper place to cut it into two. Enjoy!

Als always, there are more chapters up on Patreon (15 more), so check those out if you want to read ahead / show some love. Thanks!