The Prisoner of Beauty - Chapter 159

Chapter 159

On the southern banks of the upper reaches of the Kherlen and Tuul Rivers, beneath the natural barrier of the Hangai Mountains, lies a vast expanse of picturesque land with lush water and grass. This place is known as Dragon City, the royal court of the Chanyu.

Every autumn, the royal court holds the Forest Assembly. The Chanyu’s kin, the prominent families of the Xiongnu, and the twenty-four vassal states—including the Kings of Kunxie, Loufan, and Xiutu—all lead their tribes on long journeys to gather here. During the assembly, in addition to reporting population counts to the Chanyu and presenting tributes of livestock, there are celebrations and festivities. For this month, tens of thousands of yurts rise inside and outside the royal court; there is singing and dancing, and the bonfires do not extinguish for the entire duration of the nights.

This year’s Forest Assembly coincided with the Left Wise King Wuwei leading 300,000 cavalry south for a surprise raid. According to previous estimates, Yuyang was expected to fall within half a month at the latest.

If that wish were to come true, it would be the most morale-boosting victory for the Xiongnu in the twenty years since they lost the Ordos Loop.

Thus, everyone, including the Chanyu himself, was waiting for news of the battle.

Unexpectedly, after more than half a month of waiting, what came instead was the disastrous news: the attack on Shanggu had been obstructed, Wei Shao had rallied his forces, Wuwei had been soundly defeated, and—including those who surrendered—nearly 100,000 troops had been lost.

For every three soldiers, one had failed to return.

The Chanyu was struck by a fit of violent rage; he suspended the grand banquets held daily in the royal tent. It was said that he privately lashed out at Wuwei, leaving the latter trembling with fear.

Upon hearing the news, the herdsmen were filled with anxiety and unease, inquiring everywhere about the fate of the men from their families who had gone to war.

Though the Forest Assembly continued, the atmosphere plummeted instantly from the height of celebration to the freezing point.

When night fell, Wei Yan remained in his tent, drinking alone.

The several wine flasks before him had gradually emptied, and he was already half-intoxicated when the tent flap was suddenly lifted. A staggering figure burst in.

It was the Left Wise King, Wuwei.

Wuwei seemed to have consumed a great deal of wine; his face was flushed crimson. He stopped before Wei Yan, his bloodshot eyes staring fixedly at him as he breathed in ragged gasps.

Wei Yan seemed entirely unaware of his presence, pouring himself yet another cup of wine.

"Wei Yan! I have already sent people to investigate! The days I led the great army south to attack Shanggu, you were never at the royal court! The Chanyu did not send you out on official business either. Where on earth did you go during those days?"

Wei Yan did not move, as if the person before him did not exist.

Wuwei sneered, "I knew you wouldn't admit it! My southern campaign this time was planned meticulously; we advanced at full speed and crossed the Sanggan River in just two days! If someone hadn't tipped off the Han people beforehand, how could the border city have prepared such a comprehensive response in such a short time? I have thought it over again and again, and the more I think, the more I feel you are the most suspicious! You are a Han by birth; coming to my royal court, you appear to surrender to my Xiongnu, but in reality, you are a spy sent by the Wei family! If you hadn't sent secret intelligence ahead this time, causing me to lose the initiative, how could my 300,000 iron cavalry have failed to take a mere Shanggu? Do you think I don't know? Since you came to the royal court, you have never submitted to me. You incite those people of the Lan and Huyan clans; not only do you oppose me, you even plot against the Chanyu! I will kill you..."

He drew his waist saber and hacked down toward Wei Yan. However, he was too drunk, and the blow missed its mark; the blade embedded itself deeply into the wooden table, and he could not pull it out for a moment.

Suddenly, a gold-wrapped dagger appeared in Wei Yan’s hand. In the flash of an eye, before anyone could see clearly, a snowy blade flickered past. The dagger plunged into Wuwei’s heart, sinking in up to the hilt, leaving only the handle protruding.

Wuwei’s pupils shrank instantly, but his eyes widened like copper rings, filled with a look of utter disbelief. He stared fixedly at the gray-black, indifferent, and cold eyes of Wei Yan opposite him. His mouth opened and closed weakly a few times, and finally, his body collapsed to the floor at Wei Yan’s feet with a heavy thud.

Several of Wuwei’s guards rushed in at the sound, shocked to see the scene, and drew their swords in succession.

Wei Yan sat back behind his wine table, watching the convulsing Wuwei on the floor with a detached expression, until the body finally ceased its struggle.

He withdrew his gaze, tilted his head back, and drained the wine in his cup as if nothing had happened.

The guards looked at one another, expressions of terror appearing on their faces. They retreated slowly until they reached the tent entrance, then withdrew swiftly.

Outside the tent, the autumn wind from the Hangai Mountains was desolate, howling and whistling as it swept over the yak-hair roofs of one yurt after another. Somewhere far off, the sound of a night flute drifted over, choked and distant, low and winding, as if full of longing with nowhere to go.

A gust of fierce wind suddenly blew the tent flap open. As the night air rushed in, a beautiful woman dressed as a noble lady burst into the flickering shadows of the candles within.

She wore a vibrant vest in shades of green, red, and purple, embroidered with exquisite patterns and edged with gold silk. On her head was an eight-petaled silver hat embossed with flowers, and a large ruby was inlaid at the center of her forehead. She wore pointed leather boots; her entire appearance was one of immense luxury.

This was Lan Yun, Wei Yan’s former concubine.

The Lan clan belonged to the prominent non-royal Xiongnu clans and was one of the twenty-four tribes. In the past, this tribe had been demoted by the Chanyu for committing an offense, but over the years, the Lan clan had risen again due to military merit. Lan Yun’s brother had been re-invested as the King of Lan, and Lan Yun had been granted the title of Juzi (Princess). Because of her unparalleled beauty, she had earned the name "Pearl of the Grassland," and although countless men among the twenty-four tribes sought her hand, she had rejected them all.

That Princess Lan Yun was enamored with Hutukui (the title by which the people of the royal court addressed Wei Yan) was already common knowledge in the royal court.

Lan Yun rushed in, saw Wuwei lying dead on the ground with a dagger in his chest, and her expression changed drastically. She threw herself before Wei Yan, trembling: "Did you truly kill him? You actually killed him just like that?"

Wei Yan seemed not to hear her, continuing to pour himself another cup of wine.

Lan Yun grabbed the wrist that held his wine cup and spoke in an anxious tone: "My brother learned that Wuwei came to find you while drunk, so he followed. He has already intercepted and killed those guards of Wuwei who came to report! While the Chanyu does not yet know, you must leave quickly!"

Wei Yan pulled back the wrist she was holding, his gaze still not turning toward her. He said flatly, "It would be better for the Princess to return to the Lan tribe as soon as possible. As for me, there is no need for your concern."

Lan Yun stared blankly at him, a look of misery in her eyes, and slowly knelt beside him: "I know the pain in your heart. Back then, the King of Riju hoped you would return, so he sent me to your side—both to serve you and to wait for an opportunity. I utilized the matter of the Qiao woman to make it impossible for you to face the Wei family, eventually leading you to return to the Xiongnu. Now, in the royal court, though everyone calls you Hutukui, I know that you have never been able to shed the mark of a Han person in your heart... I have wronged you. I am merely a base body; having received the grace of your mercy back then, I know I am no longer qualified to remain by your side to serve you, and I had no face to bother you anymore. But now, Wuwei was already slandering you before the Chanyu, saying it was you who reported to the Han, which led to his failure in the south. The Chanyu is likely already suspicious of you, and now you have killed Wuwei in such a manner! I beg you, please, leave quickly..."

"Get out."

Wei Yan’s eyes were bloodshot, his breath reeking of alcohol, as he spat the word out through his teeth.

"I beg you... that Qiao woman is your inner demon. I beg you, do not torture yourself because of her anymore! Do you still not understand? Even if you hadn't been forced back to the Xiongnu back then, in this lifetime, it would be impossible for you to obtain her—"

"Get out!"

Wei Yan suddenly erupted in a fit of rage, shoving Lan Yun away heavily. The table before him was kicked over, and golden cups and silver vessels clattered to the floor.

His strength was so great that he fractured Lan Yun’s wrist.

Lan Yun’s face turned deathly pale. She fell into the corner of the tent, gritted her teeth, and slowly crawled up. With tears in her eyes, she trembled: "Even if you kill me, I will speak! You are no longer the Han Wei Yan! You are the Xiongnu Hutukui! The name Hutukui now grows in prestige daily in the royal court. I beg you, from this day forward, make a clean break with your past and be a good Xiongnu..."

Wei Yan suddenly pulled the gold-wrapped dagger from his waist, stepped forward swiftly, bent down, and grabbed Lan Yun by the collar. Grinding his teeth, he said: "Say one more word, and I will kill you!"

Lan Yun looked blankly at his blood-red, ferocious expression, then smiled miserably: "The years I spent by your side back then, thinking of them now, were my happiest times. If you wish to kill, then do it. This life of mine was saved by you in the first place."

She closed her eyes.

Wei Yan stared at her intensely, breathing heavily, his eyelids twitching uncontrollably.

Suddenly, rapid footsteps sounded outside the tent, and the voice of a close attendant entered: "Master, someone from the Royal Tent has arrived. The Chanyu summons the Master to go quickly!"

Lan Yun’s eyes snapped open: "Do not go! Although the news that Wuwei died by your hand is temporarily suppressed, the Chanyu summoning you in the middle of the night like this must be to your disadvantage! My brother, the Huyan tribe, and the Qiulin clan all support your father! No one wants to fight the Han endlessly! You must go quickly and deliberate with them..."

Wei Yan stood up. The previous look of rage gradually receded. He pushed Lan Yun aside, turned, lifted the tent flap, and stepped out, bending his waist to exit.

His several close guards wanted to follow, but were stopped by the messenger from the Royal Tent.

"Master!" The guards looked toward him.

Wei Yan said: "You stay behind; there is no need to follow me."

Lan Yun crawled up from the ground and chased after him, calling out repeatedly, but Wei Yan did not look back. Escorted by a line of royal guards, he walked quickly toward the enormous tent that resembled a mountain hill in the distance.

His figure quickly disappeared into the pitch-black night.

Lan Yun knelt helplessly on the ground, murmuring to herself: "...He is mad... does he no longer wish to live..."

She was terrified by this thought that had jumped into her mind. Feeling as if she had been pricked by a needle, she jumped up from the ground, pushed aside the maidservant who had chased after her, mounted a horse, and fled rapidly away.

...

In the center of the Royal Tent, a massive fire pit burned with roaring flames, illuminating the resplendent gold and jade decorations on the four walls.

It was late at night, and the Chanyu had not yet rested. He sat in a golden chair inlaid with gemstones and covered in white tiger skin, his eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at Wei Yan.

The Chanyu was already in the twilight of his years. This former hero of the grassland, who had ascended the throne by patricide in his youth, could not escape the baptism of time, becoming old and decrepit. Especially since the news of the defeat in the battle of Shanggu had arrived, the Chanyu’s mental state had plummeted.

The kings of the twenty-four tribes who had come to attend the assembly had not seen him appear for several days and were whispering and speculating among themselves without pause.

But even so, at this moment, the gaze the Chanyu cast upon Wei Yan still carried an incomparable, intimidating power.

"The days that Wuwei led the great army south, where did you go?"

The Chanyu asked coldly.

Wei Yan gazed at the Chanyu on the throne and slowly knelt before him: "I was in Shanggu."

A brilliant light exploded in the Chanyu’s eyes. The hand gripping the armrest of the throne tightened suddenly, and his voice was chilling: "Wuwei claims it was you who tipped off the Han people, which caused his southern campaign to fail?"

"Indeed," Wei Yan said calmly.

"Not only that, just a moment ago, Wuwei came to my tent intending to kill me, and I killed him in return. His corpse should still be in my tent at this very moment."

The Chanyu stood up from his throne suddenly, eyes wide, pointing a finger at Wei Yan, his breathing rapid. Suddenly, with a clang, he drew the precious sword from his waist and walked down the steps toward Wei Yan rapidly.

"Since you returned to the Xiongnu, I have treated you well and never discriminated against you because you grew up with the Wei family! I also knew Wuwei was incompetent, and that once I died, he would likely be unable to suppress the twenty-four tribes, so I had considered stripping him of his status as Crown Prince. Why did you return evil for good, first communicating with the Han, and today, even killing my son?"

The Chanyu interrogated him sternly, the sword resting heavily against his neck and pressing down sharply.

The sharp blade was lethal; it instantly cut the skin, drawing a streak of bright red blood that trickled down his neck, instantly staining his lapels.

Wei Yan seemed not to notice, his eyes fixed on a cluster of flames dancing in the fire pit. He was lost in thought for a moment, then said: "I was born into this world as a superfluous existence. Having betrayed the nurturing grace of the Wei family, and also betrayed the Chanyu’s grace of recognition, I am neither man nor ghost, worse than a pig or a dog. That the Chanyu kills me is only natural and just."

After speaking, he folded his knees and slowly knelt down, closing his eyes, his expression calm.

The Chanyu glared at him, his expression gradually becoming ferocious. Just then, Wuzhuqu burst into the tent, his clothes disheveled and his expression frantic. He walked rapidly before the Chanyu, knelt with a thud, and kowtowed: "Brother King! Everything was directed by me! It is because I could not bear to sit and watch Wuwei claim all the credit that I ordered him to report! It is also because I could not bear Wuwei constantly provoking me that I ordered him to find an opportunity to eliminate Wuwei! If you wish to kill, kill me; it has nothing to do with him!"

The Chanyu stared at Wuzhuqu and sneered: "He has committed such an offense; by rights, he should be torn apart by five horses. To excuse him, you take all the blame—very well, considering he is also a descendant of my Luan Ti clan, I will waive his sentence of being torn apart by five horses and leave him with an intact corpse."

He bellowed harshly for the warriors to enter.

Amidst a cacophony of chaotic footsteps, the flap of the Royal Tent was suddenly opened. An arrow with a whistling tip flew toward the Chanyu like lightning, piercing the air with a thwack and embedding itself squarely in the center of the Chanyu’s forehead, piercing through the bone and exiting the back of his skull.

The Chanyu’s eyes bulged wide, his body stiffened, and a moment later, the precious sword in his hand fell to the ground, and he collapsed backward with a thunderous crash.

Huyan Lie and Lanti, having already finished off the Chanyu’s confidants outside the tent, led the guards in, swarming inside. They killed the guards who had been inside the tent, then stepped forward to help Wuzhuqu up.

Wuzhuqu took one look at his brother, who lay dead with eyes still wide open. He closed his own eyes for a moment, then looked at Wei Yan, whose lapels were stained with blood. He stepped forward, his voice trembling: "My child, are you unharmed?"

Wei Yan opened his eyes, focused on the corpse of the Chanyu nearby for a moment, then rose and parted the crowd to leave.

That same night, the news spread like wildfire through the royal court: Wuwei, fearing punishment from the Chanyu for his defeat in battle, had assassinated the Chanyu, only to be killed by guards in retaliation.

The vassal kings of the twenty-four tribes, startled from their sleep, arrived one after another from their respective tents upon hearing the news. After a chaotic session of deliberation, and following the proposals of King Huyan and King Qiulin, everyone unanimously supported Wuzhuqu to ascend the throne of the Chanyu, with no one voicing any objection.

The east began to brighten with the first light of dawn. The autumn dew remained heavy, each drop like a diamond clinging to the tips of the grass. In the distance, the morning mist was thick, vast, and blurred, like a floating white veil drifting over the boundless wilderness.

Wei Yan spurred his horse, crossing a pile of still-smoldering ashes from the previous night’s bonfire, and rode alone toward the front at full gallop.

The horse’s hooves kicked up white ash, which scattered and drifted away in the wind in a direction known to no one.

He himself did not know where his destination lay, nor where he was going. His heart was filled with a sense of loss, like a person who had lost his way.

Time was when the desire for power had made his soul burn and his nights restless.

Now, he was but a single step away from the peak he had once been so impassioned to reach.

This vast and fertile land could be trampled beneath his feet, and even the land to the south, should he desire it, was not necessarily beyond his reach to contend for.

Yet, he felt listless, and the place where his heart resided seemed to be missing a piece that could never be filled.

No matter where he went, it was perhaps not a place for him to stay for the rest of his life.

He was but an abandoned man; he knew this in his heart.

In the morning mist behind him, a line of fast horses caught up, drawing nearer and nearer, accompanied by eager shouts. Up ahead, Wei Yan finally tightened the reins and stopped his horse.

Wuzhuqu galloped to his side, while Huyan Lie and the Lan siblings stopped their horses behind, waiting quietly.

"Yan’er! Why must you leave? Your father hopes for you to stay!"

Wei Yan smiled faintly: "I have already helped you achieve your wish and ascend to the throne of Chanyu. What use is there for me to stay?"

Wuzhuqu stared at him fixedly: "When the royal court is stable, your father wishes to restore relations with the Han and cease the fighting. If you are determined to leave, your father cannot force you to stay. But the position of Left Wise King will always be reserved for you. When you have thought it through one day, come back, will you?"

Wei Yan did not speak. He turned his horse around and rode off at a gallop, his figure shattering a patch of mist.

Lan Yun shouted, weeping toward the patch of mist that had been torn open: "Wei Yan! I have been your woman for a day, and I shall be your woman for a lifetime..."

Before she could finish, it was as if in the blink of an eye, the man and horse in the mist ahead disappeared from sight.

"He will return, won't he?" Lan Yun covered her face and sobbed uncontrollably.

"Give him some time. He will eventually understand," Lanti said, fixing his gaze on the distance.