This clearly pleased Na Zhan. He smiled, then glanced at the golden bundle that had been opened, revealing a beautifully packaged but slightly damaged book. The concubine holding it seemed embarrassed, unsure whether to hand it over. Na Zhan, however, fixed his gaze on it and said, “Bring it here!”
“The Collected Works of the Great Desert!”
Huang Bei Shuang watched Na Zhan closely, knowing he would be thrilled to receive this rare desert text. She sighed with relief.
Unexpectedly, Na Zhan’s expression turned cold, and he raised an eyebrow at Wu Jihai, the man beside him. Wu Jihai immediately understood. In a flash, his sword was drawn, and the blade was at Huang Bei Shuang’s throat. “Is this your idea of loyalty, offering an old, tattered book?”
Yet Huang Bei Shuang did not flinch. She calmly turned her head to meet his gaze. Her maids, also kneeling, remained motionless. Their unshakable composure caught Wu Jihai off guard, and he hesitated, turning to look at Na Zhan.
Na Zhan said nothing, but continued to scrutinize the serene, smiling woman before him. He waved his hand, signaling Wu Jihai to step back.
“Does Your Majesty like the book?” Huang Bei Shuang asked with a smile.
“I like the book. I’m less fond of the one who offered it,” Na Zhan replied with a grin, his words shocking everyone present. How could the king be dissatisfied with such a remarkable beauty?
“Is that so? Your words make Huang Bei Shuang feel uneasy. Does that mean I no longer have a chance to serve Your Majesty?” she asked, lowering her gaze, as was proper etiquette when addressing the king.
Na Zhan leaned back against his throne, tapping the Collected Works of the Great Desert on his knee and chuckling. “No, you are intriguing enough that I won’t deny you the opportunity.”
Huang Bei Shuang bowed her head lower, her thoughts racing. This man, Na Zhan, was just as unfathomable as Qing Yun and Ruo Wen had been. He was too deep, too unpredictable, making her heart race with unease.
Suddenly, she realized she had momentarily lost her focus and quickly lowered her head further. Na Zhan surveyed the hall, deciding he was done for the moment. Reclining comfortably on his throne, he finally said, “Aside from You Jia of Zhen Qu and Huang Bei Shuang of Ernaqi, the rest will be assigned by Ambassador Zhu Jun. All those serving the court may submit marriage proposals. You are dismissed. Prepare for the evening’s conferral ceremony!”
As these words left the king’s lips, the other marriage envoys were visibly shaken. His meaning was clear: they would be distributed among the civil and military officials. Only the two extraordinary beauties would remain in the royal harem.
What fate was this?
On that day, your eyes flashed with a hint of memory.
I wanted to ask you, who did you remember?
Who could make you, in my presence, remain so detached?
But I didn’t ask. To ask would mean I’d have to know:
Was your heart as distant as the soil from your homeland that you offered?
Who are you? Who do you think of?
And who am I? Who am I?
Far in the northern desert, the winds carried sandstorms through the season. This was also the time when many small tribes migrated. In the distance, one could see a group of people slowly moving through the sands. The faint jingling of camel bells echoed through the wind. They were likely a group of nomads who had left their tribe, carrying clothes, food, and jewels. Their faces bore signs of fatigue, as they knew they had to find shelter before sunset to avoid the impending storm.
Suddenly, the ground rumbled, and the sound of galloping hooves filled the air. It was abrupt and distinct, and in the depths of the desert, such sounds could only mean one thing! Realizing this, the leader of the group was struck with terror and shouted, “Abandon everything and run!”
His voice trembled with fear, and the group of about a thousand people quickly descended into chaos, like boiling water spilling over. Panic spread as they saw the approaching riders, the blood-red war banners flying high in the wind, and the mad screams that echoed like crashing waves. There was no escape for these desperate nomads.
Who were they?
A yellow banner, bearing a white crown, waved wildly in the fierce wind—
It was the Mad Yellow Army of Heaven!
“Where do you think you’re going to run?”
Looking at the helpless group of nomads, now trapped like fish in a barrel, the vanguard, Mang Hu, spoke with a sharp, merciless tone. He let out a cold laugh and turned to look at Lang Tou, who had also surrounded the group from the opposite side, shouting, “Looks like I got here first again, huh?”
Lang Tou twitched his lips, seemingly unimpressed. “Hmph! Let’s see if you’re so fast when it comes to real combat. Being quick on horseback means nothing!”
They both burst into eerie laughter, the kind that emanated cruelty and unyielding ruthlessness. The thousand-strong group of nomads trembled at the sight of these brutal soldiers. Some of them were contemplating escape, others were considering feigning death, while many were simply frozen in terror. But whatever thoughts or plans they had were instantly stifled when Ruo Wen, the leader of the Mad Yellow Army of Heaven, arrived. His gaze was so dark and devoid of compassion that none of the nomads dared look at him directly.
0 Comments