The First Order - Chapter 770

Chapter 770: Mt. Zhuolu

For some reason, Hassan felt that the closer they got to the Central Plains, the quieter his master became.

It was not hesitation or fear he sensed but more of a contradictory feeling.

Hassan knew his master had lived in the South before, but he knew nothing about what his master had experienced there.

He did not know why his master went to the grasslands, nor did he know why his master sought to establish a new dynasty there. Hassan always felt his master was hiding a lot of things.

Now, under Yan Liuyuan’s lead, the imperial court warriors were rushing towards Stronghold 176 to rescue their enemies, the Bulan and Kirghiz tribes.

At first, Hassan did not understand what Yan Liuyuan was trying to do because those people were their enemies.

But later, he and the other tribal chiefs realized Yan Liuyuan was much more magnanimous than they were. What he wanted was a complete grassland, a grassland that could lead them to greater heights. He was not looking to revel in the fragmentation of the nomads.

The Bulan and Kirghiz tribes contributed about three-quarters the number of the young and strong in the grasslands, and they also had countless women, children, and elderly among them. If the Bulan and Kirghiz tribes were to get annihilated in the Central Plains, the nomads would probably need close to 15 years to recover their numbers.

Yan Liuyuan did not want to wait that long. He wanted to bring his former enemies under control amid the flames of war.

After the Bulan and Kirghiz tribes were ambushed, they had no choice but to retreat towards Mt. Zhuolu under the pincer attack of their pursuers.

The nomads’ army mainly consisted of cavalry, so they were most afraid to encounter steep, mountainous terrains. Once they retreated into the mountains, they could not take advantage of their horses’ mobility, and their bows and arrows were no match for the firearms and explosives the Central Plains people carried. As a result, they could only wait for death inside the mountain range.

There was no other choice.

Just as Qing Shen had said, a lean camel was still bigger than a horse. No matter how badly Stronghold 176 had declined, they still had outstanding generals and rich combat experience to depend on.

Although their current mechanized troops were practically useless now, and their soldiers had been reduced from 40,000 to just slightly over 10,000, Stronghold 176 was still not someone the nomads could provoke.

This was the reason why Yan Liuyuan chose not to come to Stronghold 176.

Stronghold 176’s troops had split into two groups early on. One group was lying in ambush near Mt. Zhuolu while the other was circling around Mt. Yanqing to surround them.

By the time the Bulan and Kirghiz tribes stopped in front of Mt. Zhuolu, the troops of Stronghold 176 had cut off their path from behind.

Bulan Zir, the chief of the Bulan tribe, was standing in front of the mountain. He looked at the mountain path in front of him and eventually took out his dagger unwillingly and stabbed it into the neck of his horse.

The magnificent horse had been following him for many years, but now he had to kill it with his own hands.

The tall horse slowly fell to the ground as turbid tears flowed out of its eyes. Bulan Zir said in a low voice, “I was too stupid and sent you to die with me. I’m not likely to live for much longer either. Don’t worry, I’ll soon accompany you in Heaven. The breeze in the grasslands will reunite us once again.”

When his associates nearby heard this, they could not help but despair.

In reality, everyone understood that if the cavalry were forced into the depths of the mountains by the enemy, there would be no way out for them. Otherwise, they would definitely not have chosen to head into the mountains.

As Bulan Zir climbed his way up the mountain, Kirghiz Yan, the chief of the Kirghiz tribe, happened to look over. Initially, the two of them were competitors, but now they would only end up like dogs cast from their homes.

Kirghiz Yan said coldly, “This is just great. If we both die here on Mt. Zhuolu, that’ll be letting off that kid easy. After this, the entire steppe will belong to him.”

Bulan Zir sighed and said, “Why are you saying this to me? I remember that you were the one who said that the results of this raid should decide who gets to establish the imperial court? If you hadn’t said that, I wouldn’t have had to lead my Bulan warriors to their deaths.”

A nearby associate of his said, “You don’t have to be so disheartened. There might still be a chance to turn things around!”

“What chance do we have?” Kirghiz Yan sneered. “Unless that brat leads his eight tribes here to rescue us, but do you think he would be so kind? He’s probably going to gloat when he finds out that we’re gonna die. He’s gonna laugh at us for handing him the grasslands on a platter.”

“There’s always a way out—”

“Besides, it’s useless even if he comes,” interrupted Kirghiz Yan. “We all have to understand that fighting the Central Plains people without guns is basically impossible. Some of my warriors have even awakened their powers, but they were still shot to death by the Central Plains people.”

There was no such term as “supernatural beings” in the grasslands yet, so they were all only referred to as awakened warriors.

They could already see from the top of the mountain that the pursuing troops were closing in. It was very dark at the foot of the mountain, but Bulan Zir could already imagine the Central Plains people firing their heavy machine guns at them.

At that time, his comrades and warriors would start falling one by one next to him. Or perhaps he would be the first to fall.

Bulan Zir turned around and continued climbing upwards. This time, Stronghold 176 had found out about their raid plans in advance and probably deployed enough troops in an attempt to win themselves peace for the next 15 years.

As long as they finished off the enemy here in Mt. Zhuolu, the nomads would have to spend the next 15 years to get back to normal.

Sounds of gunshots came from the foot of the mountain. Bulan Zir turned around and saw the warriors of his tribe falling one after another. Blood was flowing down the mountain rocks. It was an extremely tragic sight.

But Bulan Zir’s associate suddenly shouted, “Look, someone’s heading over from behind the enemy troops!”

Bulan Zir and Kirghiz Yan turned around at the same time and were stunned. “It’s cavalry!”

The Central Plains people had long given up on using horses. Therefore, since the approaching party was riding on horses, they had to be from the steppe.

Kirghiz Yan was silent for a while. “Why did he come here? Shouldn’t he be hoping for us to die in the Central Plains?”

Bulan Zir thought for a moment before answering, “Maybe it’s because we’re all from the grasslands?”

Kirghiz Yan sneered at this explanation. “Since when did we nomads have the concept of ‘compatriots’? Aren’t we supposed to follow whoever has the biggest fist? Besides, so what if he does come here? Can bow and arrows defeat the firearms of those from the Central Plains?”

Everyone fell silent. They all knew Kirghiz Yan was right. No tribe on the steppe would save another tribe. This was the law of survival of the fittest, and there was no concept of “compatriots.” So they could only continue climbing up the mountain blindly to await their deaths.

Bulan Zir was already very tired. He was not fatigued physically, but the feeling of being helpless when he saw his comrades who had gone through thick and thin with him dying by his side was starting to take its toll. Despair started to well up in him like a tidal wave, surging past his neck and leaving him unable to breathe.

But the cavalry in the distance slowly came to a stop. Only one rider trotted forward from the crowd. The young man on that horse had a unique aura.

The man and horse slowly walked towards Mt. Zhuolu. Dark clouds were slowly building above his head as lightning flashed past behind him. The entire sky seemed to have turned into a huge vortex that could suck everyone’s souls in.

Bulan Zir and the others on the mountain forgot about running for their lives. They stood on the mountain rocks and watched this sight in shock while holding their breaths.

How was this a power humans could control? This was clearly something that only gods could do!