Chapter 46: The Invisible Web Across the Steppe

Deep in the grasslands, inside the largest tent, the oppressive atmosphere was heavy enough to be wrung out. Several tribal chieftains sat in a circle around the brazier, their faces ashen. The air was thick with the sour scent of fermented mare's milk and uncontainable fury.

"Absolute disgrace!" A one-eyed chieftain slammed his golden cup down onto the ground, splashing wine everywhere. "Three hundred warriors of my Agula tribe were slaughtered like lambs by a bunch of Southern barbarians! Not a single one even escaped to report the news!"

"My tribe as well!" Another burly man with a full beard gritted his teeth. "They are like ghosts of the grasslands, coming and going without a trace! Our men couldn't even catch a glimpse of their shadows!"

At the head of the royal tent, a tall, thin middle-aged man with wolf-like, sinister eyes spoke slowly. He was the most powerful tribal lord in this region, Alugutai.

"They are not ghosts." Alugutai's voice was soft, yet it instantly silenced the clamor inside the tent. "They are merely cunning hounds. Judging by the battlefield situation, they should be that same Ming military unit from last time. But hounds, after all, are afraid of eagles."

He clapped his hands, and two falconers clad in eagle feathers walked into the tent. On each of their arms stood a giant falcon, far exceeding the size of ordinary hunting hawks, their golden eyes as sharp as if they could pierce a man's soul.

"Hear my command!" Alugutai stood up, a cruel gleam flashing in his eyes. "Assemble the warriors of the tribe! Release all our 'Eyes of the Sky'! I want not an inch of land left in these grasslands where that pack of Southern barbarians can hide. This time, I will leave every single one of them bleeding on the steppe. In my territory, such arrogance will not be tolerated!"

"I will twist off their heads one by one and turn them into my new drinking cups!"

An invisible net woven from dozens of hunting falcons slowly spread across the sky above the grasslands.

Two days later, a small Ming military detachment of three hundred cavalrymen, like a group of ghosts merged into the meadows, was quietly threading through the shadows of the hills.

Zhu Di lay prone on a high slope, looking into the distance, his brows tightly knitted.

He had been observing for half an hour continuously, and in the sky, those few circling black dots never dispersed. They flew extremely high, with trajectories so regular they defied reason, always maintaining a fixed distance from his troop.

These were not wild birds.

Zhu Di's heart sank bit by bit. He recalled the sensation of being watched during the encirclement last time, and a chill surged straight from his spine to his skull.

They have eyes in the sky.

"Chief, the situation is bad," lowered the voice of an equally experienced scout. "These Tartars seem to have completely figured out our movements."

Zhu Di did not speak. He turned his horse around and hurried at top speed to converge with Fan Tong's main force.

When Fan Tong finished listening to Zhu Di's report, that always smiling, chubby face turned incomparably solemn for the very first time.

He knew that the thing he feared most had happened. The old tricks of the Yuan army—having air units was indeed advantageous.

The vanguard battalion's combat strength was formidable, but once their position was locked onto by tens of thousands of troops and they were caught in a frontal encirclement, certain death awaited them. The tragic scene from last time was still vivid in his mind.

"Come over here!" Fan Tong motioned Zhu Di and Bao Nianfeng to the map.

"Fighting them head-on is courting death." Fan Tong's knuckles tapped rhythmically against the sheepskin map. "Right now, we're running bare-assed in the snow, and they can see us clearly!"

In his small eyes flickered a sort of near-madness.

"We split up!"

Bao Nianfeng was startled. "Chief, won't splitting up make us even weaker against them?"

"Idiot!" Fan Tong scolded. "Who said we're going to fight them?"

He pointed at Zhu Di, his gaze burning. "Zhu Hu, you take three hundred of the most elite cavalrymen, three horses per man, and bring along all the best horses we captured. Your mission is not to fight, but to run!"

"Run?" Zhu Di was somewhat puzzled as well.

"Right, run!" Fan Tong grinned, smiling like an old fox plotting a trap. "You take these three hundred men and run for your lives across the grasslands! Stab them in the rear, burn their fodder, and ambush their scouts! Do whatever makes them miserable! When they chase, you run; when they rest, you harass them! Hound them like dogs for me!"

"Hound them?" Zhu Di's mouth twitched; the phrase was far too vulgar.

"That's right, hound them!" Fan Tong's tone turned chillingly lethal. "You must drag this army of tens of thousands down in these grasslands, exhaust them until they are at their wits' end, and give them no peace!"

He paused, then pointed to an inconspicuous location on the map—the lair of Alugutai's tribe.

"As for me," Fan Tong's smile turned incomparably ferocious, "I will take the rest of the men, guided by locals, and raid their home base! I'm going to loot all their cattle and sheep, their women, and their gold and silver! I'll turn them into a pack of homeless lone wolves!"

Zhu Di's expression turned grave in an instant.

He knew how insane this plan was, and how dangerous the "hounding" mission would be. Three hundred men trying to tie down tens of thousands of troops—once bitten, not even bones would be left.

Yet he remembered the massacred civilians, and the little girl who had tugged at his armor. Fan Tong's crooked logic echoed in his ears once more.

Only by surviving could one eat meat. Only by winning did one earn the qualification to speak of benevolence and righteousness.

"Alright," Zhu Di slowly nodded, the last trace of hesitation in his eyes replaced by resolve.

"That's my good boy!" Fan Tong laughed heartily. He pulled a large parcel of special, dark, glistening jerked meat wrapped in oiled paper from his bosom and shoved it into Zhu Di's hands.

"Kid, this is my exclusive recipe with extra ingredients. At a critical moment, it can save your life."

Fan Tong heavily patted Zhu Di's shoulder, leaned close to his ear, and lowered his voice. "Remember, your mission is to hound the dogs, not to beat them. Heavy work like beating dogs, leave that to me."

As night fell, in the vanguard battalion's camp, all bonfires were extinguished.

The two forces silently parted ways in the darkness.

Zhu Di led three hundred of the most elite enhanced cavalry, like a group of ghosts melting into the night, quietly slipping toward the direction where the main Yuan army was likely to appear.

Fan Tong led the remaining troops under the cover of night, guided by several Han scouts along a secret path, heading straight for the lair of the Alutai tribe.

A heaven-shaking gamble thus commenced.

Meanwhile, the fully assembled main force of the Yuan army discovered that the elusive Ming military detachment had vanished once again.

"Useless trash!" Alutai kicked over the falconer in front of him. "Dozens of eagles, and you can't even find a few thousand men?"

The falconer scrambled to his knees, trembling all over. "General... that bunch of Ming soldiers seems to... seems to have burrowed into the ground..."

A trace of unease flashed in Alugutai's eyes, but it was quickly suppressed by the flames of vengeance.

"Search! Search every inch for this General! I refuse to believe they can fly away!"

At dawn, Zhu Di's reconnaissance team finally discovered the vanguard force of the Yuan army in an open river valley.

The dark mass of cavalry looked like a moving forest, banners fluttering, reeking of murderous intent.

Zhu Di lay prone on the grassy slope, his heart pounding wildly against his will. He licked his dry lips, his gaze igniting with a flame mixed with fear and excitement.

The game had begun.

He turned his head, glanced at the three hundred silent knights behind him, and slowly raised the mace in his hand.

It was time to let this arrogant pack of steppe wolves taste what it felt like to be hounded by dogs.