Book 2 Chapter 68

They were in the enemy's camp, surrounded by powerful warriors – the matriarch herself stood at the peak of the Core Formation realm – and their identities could be exposed at any moment. By all rights, they should have been on edge, constantly scheming for a way to escape.

Instead, the Princess had told them, "We have two Nascent Soul cultivators with us. Since matters have come to this, let's simply go with the flow. If the situation turns against us and we need to break through and flee, then we'll flee. Until then, take this opportunity to learn more about the Northern Steppes from the horse's own mouth."

And so, what should have been a tense infiltration had somehow turned into something resembling a festival outing.

Yue Shuangyi trailed behind Bai Ning and Li Kang, the two of them darting from one Yuan stall to another with such wide-eyed enthusiasm that they looked more like children on their first trip to a city than cultivators in the heart of enemy territory. Chen Zhuhe watched them from beside her, amusement dancing in his eyes. Shuangyi shot him a mild glare, but Zhuhe remained completely unfazed. She had directed far too many such looks at him and Kang over the years for them to retain much effect. At this point, her glare was little more than background noise.

With no other recourse, Shuangyi could only sigh as Bai Ning once again let out an impressed, "Oh!" while Li Kang leaned closer to examine some strange artifact.

They were in the market section of the tribe's camp. Dozens of Yuan had spread rugs across the ground, displaying their wares upon them. The stalls were arranged into a sprawling network of crisscrossing lanes, creating a makeshift marketplace through which cultivators wandered, browsing, bargaining, and exchanging goods. And what goods they were – there were the remains of spirit beasts, some of creatures Shuangyi had never even heard of; there were strange and exotic varieties of soil; bundles of spirit herbs with unfamiliar fragrances; and ingots of spiritual alloys that shimmered with colors she could scarcely name.

Spirit stones changed hands constantly, but they were hardly the only currency. Goods were bartered just as readily, with cultivators trading one treasure for another. At one point, Shuangyi even saw a Yuan – bipedal, yet completely covered in overlapping scales – hand over a gourd of some fermented, milk-like drink in exchange for a bundle of spirit herbs.

It was a market unlike any she had ever seen before, exotic and foreign and utterly fascinating.

Unfortunately, she could not quite bring herself to enjoy it, because in this market, the most exotic things were not the strange spirit beasts or even the bizarre goods on display. It was them. Merchants – or at least, merchants so long as their lie held together – from beyond the Wall, from the distant lands to the south. To the Yuan, they were strange and foreign. As a result, hundreds of eyes seemed to linger on them wherever they went. It was only their cultivation at the Core Formation realm that ensured those curious gazes remained at a respectful distance.

Distance and respect that her two cherished, headache-inducing friends were currently trampling into the ground.

"It burns! It burns!" Li Kang howled. He was standing in the middle of the market, drinking from a large horn. What he was drinking was actual fire. It had been threaded with qi and somehow trapped in liquid form, creating a crimson-orange brew that flickered and writhed inside the horn. The surrounding Yuan erupted into cheers at the sight, but none cheered louder than Bai Ning. She happily tossed Li Kang the spirit stones she had wagered on him, shouting, "I told you he could drink this special firewine!"

Li Kang immediately went from screaming in agony to looking unbearably smug, even as qi coated his mouth and tongue and wisps of flame continued to curl from between his lips. Shuangyi resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. She absolutely refused to wrinkle her nose. If that man tried to steal a kiss from her with that mouth, then she would-

Ah. Shuangyi froze. From the corner of her eye, she caught Chen Zhuhe watching her. His eyes were bright with amusement. He had clearly noticed. She immediately schooled her expression and looked away, doing her best to pretend she had not been thinking anything at all. Curse this pale skin of hers, and curse her terrible qi control when it came to hiding her embarrassment. Why did she have to blush so easily?

Thankfully, before Zhuhe could make things any worse, the group moved on, continuing to browse the various stalls. The Yuan merchants were remarkably enthusiastic. One after another, they called out to the group, respectfully introducing this treasure or that peculiar item, their voices carrying a mixture of eagerness and caution. They clearly wanted to do business with these mysterious cultivators from beyond the Wall, but none dared be overly pushy.

Unfortunately, there was little here that could truly catch their attention. The goods were certainly new and exotic, and Shuangyi found herself pausing now and then to examine something unfamiliar, but novelty was not the same as usefulness. Most of the treasures on display were meant for Qi Condensation or Foundation Establishment cultivators. That was hardly surprising. The tribe had only a handful of Core Formation cultivators – the matriarch and, presumably, the elders beneath her. Treasures suitable for cultivators at that level were naturally too valuable to be casually laid out in a public market. If such things were being sold at all, they would almost certainly be kept somewhere far more secure.

They had just passed another stall when a sudden commotion drew their attention. Up ahead, a large stall was surrounded by a sea of Yuan. The crowd was so dense that the stall itself was almost impossible to see. A collective groan rose from its center, followed immediately by a burst of laughter and cheering. Bai Ning's eyes lit up. Before Shuangyi could stop her, she and Li Kang had already begun shouldering their way through the crowd. The Yuan parted readily enough. No one wanted to impede a Core Formation cultivator, and the moment they sensed the cultivation of the two troublemakers, they stepped aside with surprising speed.

Shuangyi followed with a sigh. She had deliberately kept her spiritual sense reined in, both out of courtesy and because she had no desire to draw unnecessary attention to herself. Instead, she simply relied on her eyes to see what had caused the commotion. At the center of the crowd stood a table and beside it stood an enormous Yuan man. He was tall, broad, and so heavily muscled that his body seemed carved from stone. From the absence of an equine lower body, Shuangyi guessed that he was still at the very peak of Qi Condensation, though there were already signs of further transformation beginning to manifest. His feet were halfway transformed into something resembling dragon claws, with sharp, curved talons emerging from beneath his skin, instead of hooves.

His entire body was covered in fine green scales. They overlapped so densely that they resembled armor, each one catching the light and reflecting it in a different shade of green. Even his face was buried beneath them. At first glance, he looked less like a living creature and more like an enormous statue encrusted with emeralds. Then the man flexed his arm and the illusion of a statue vanished instantly. Muscles bulged beneath the scales, and the crowd erupted.

"Hah!" The Yuan man slapped his palm against the table. "Does anyone else dare to try me in arm wrestling? A hundred spirit stones if you can defeat me! The entry fee is only two spirit stones. Come and challenge me if you dare!"

Half the crowd immediately roared its approval. Human voices and draconic roars mingled together, until Shuangyi could no longer tell which was which. The other half of the spectators muttered among themselves, already counting their spirit stones and discussing whether anyone present had a chance of winning. Apparently, the groan they had heard earlier had belonged to a previous contender, one who had lost.

Bai Ning's eyes shone. "I want to try." The spirit stones were already in her hand.

Shuangyi felt the beginnings of a headache. Of course she did.

The Yuan man, who had been basking in the cheers and flexing for the crowd, finally noticed the newcomer stepping toward his table. He turned toward Bai Ning. His mouth opened, as he seemed about to say something. Then he closed it again. For a moment, he looked at Bai Ning, then at the spirit stones in her hand, then back at Bai Ning. Finally, he tried again. "Uh…" He scratched the side of his scaled head. "Senior… this may not be appropriate for you."

Bai Ning blinked.

The Yuan man hurriedly continued. "My strength is very great. I dare not compare myself to your cultivation, of course, but no qi can be used in this match. Only the physical body." He gestured toward his own enormous arm. "We Yuan possess the strength of dragons within our bloodlines."

His gaze wandered over Bai Ning's considerably smaller frame. "But you…" He hesitated. "Even at your realm…" He trailed off, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

Shuangyi could almost see the battle taking place inside his head. On one side was the respect owed to a senior cultivator. On the other was the very real possibility that he was about to allow a powerful senior to humiliate herself in front of his entire tribe, and then have to live with the consequences. He was clearly doing his best to navigate the delicate line between respecting their cultivation and not offending them by bluntly suggesting that Bai Ning was simply too weak in the body to compete. Shuangyi almost felt sorry for him.

Bai Ning had already placed her spirit stones on the table. "Don't worry," she said cheerfully. "I won't blame you if I lose."

Then, almost absentmindedly – though Shuangyi knew her friend well enough to recognize that there was absolutely nothing accidental about it – Bai Ning released Miantiao. A rush of pale light erupted from her body, and a moment later, a dragon burst from within it. Its triumphant cry shook the air. Shuangyi tried to suppress her smile, but she failed. Bai Ning had shown her the dragon spirit back at the Wall, and the little creature was almost unbearably cute. It had spent most of the time sprawled across Shuangyi's lap, happily cuddling against her while occasionally turning its head to hiss at Chen Zhuhe and Li Kang.

Bai Ning had explained that she had rarely been able to let Miantiao out while they were in the Palace, and the poor thing had been feeling increasingly cooped up. Now, beneath the clear blue sky, Miantiao seemed determined to make up for every moment it had spent confined. It twisted through the air in graceful spirals, its pale body flashing beneath the sunlight as it climbed higher and higher above the crowd. Its long form coiled around itself before unfurling again, sweeping through the sky with effortless grace.

The Yuan lost their minds. Half the crowd erupted into cheers. They roared, clapped, whooped, and shouted, with some even raising their arms toward the sky as though they were witnessing the arrival of a divine beast. The other half turned toward Bai Ning. Their expressions had changed completely to excitement, awe, and something approaching reverence. Shuangyi could only shake her head internally. She knew that dragons held an almost spiritual significance among the Yuan, much like horses. A dragon spirit was therefore no ordinary beast: it was a symbol of prestige and perhaps even divine favor. Still, she had not expected this. The sheer fervor of the crowd was astonishing.

Miantiao let out another delighted roar as it spiraled through the heavens. Bai Ning, meanwhile, behaved as though none of this had anything to do with her. She casually brushed an imaginary speck of dust from her sleeve before buffing her nails against her robes. "You were saying…?"

The Yuan man finally tore his gaze away from Miantiao. "You…" He swallowed. "You are a Dragon Slayer, Senior?" His voice was filled with such profound awe that Shuangyi nearly choked. "I am truly honored."

Bai Ning's expression did not change, but Shuangyi knew her well enough to recognize the unmistakable gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. Apparently, the two spirit stones had been a small price to pay for this.

This was going to be a long afternoon.

………………………………..

Mo Jian felt sweat bead at the back of his neck. This was no festival. He was seated inside a massive beast-hide tent, surrounded by the matriarch and elders of what the matriarch had introduced as the Kiyat Tribe. Muxue had been invited to meet with the elders, and she had brought him along, introducing him as her "good right hand."

The matriarch had laughed at that. Mo Jian had noticed that she seemed to have a habit of laughing at almost everything. "My own good right hand was lost some years ago," she had told Muxue cheerfully. "I've had to make do with my left ever since."

The insinuation had left the Princess red in the face. To her credit, however, Muxue had maintained her composure and smoothly moved the conversation along. The first matter, naturally, was the Fatwa. To which Muxue, wearing the most virtuous smile imaginable, had said, "How could such an important document be presented so casually? Rest assured, we will display it before your entire tribe this evening, by the light of the sacred fire." A few of the elders had grumbled at that, especially the one whose scales had turned milky white with age. But, to Mo Jian's surprise, most of them seemed to accept the explanation without much suspicion.

He was almost shocked. Had they really stumbled upon the most naïve Yuan tribe in the entire Northern Steppes? Or were the Kiyat simply more trusting than they had expected?

Either way, Mo Jian had no intention of complaining. The Fatwa of Trade was no ordinary document.

It was an ancient decree first established by Jenghiz Khan during the founding of the Great Horde. Among the Yuan, it was usually referred to simply as the Fatwa, a name that carried the weight of both political authority and sacred ordinance. Only merchants granted a Fatwa could travel freely throughout the Steppes and, in many places, beyond them. Its terms were regarded as sacred and absolute. And that was not merely a figure of speech. A Fatwa of Trade was invested with power. It was, in essence, a technique given the form of a document. That power made a genuine Fatwa impossible to counterfeit and its conditions impossible to violate. Whatever means Jenghiz Khan had employed to establish that authority, the power had endured long after his empire had fractured and disappeared.

Centuries had passed. The Great Horde was gone, its territories divided and conquered. Its Khans had been replaced by rival Khans, old enemies had become new allies, and old allies had become enemies once again. Yet the Fatwa remained. It was one of the few enduring legacies Jenghiz Khan had left behind in lands where almost everything else he had built had eventually fallen apart. Successive Khans, regardless of their rivalries, had learned not to interfere with merchants travelling under its protection. Even rulers whose wars had reduced neighboring territories to ashes seldom dared disrupt a caravan bearing a genuine Fatwa.

The consequences were simply too severe.

But there was another reason the system had endured: commerce was too important to the Steppes. The region was divided among dozens of competing hordes, yet their prosperity depended upon the same arteries of trade. Disrupting those routes meant more than angering a rival or violating an ancient mechanism established by the Great Khan. It threatened the livelihood of entire confederations.

And the Fatwa came with another privilege that made it particularly valuable: access to the Yams. The Yam was an immense network of caravan stations, relay posts, fortified encampments, and wayhouses scattered along the major routes of the Steppes. A merchant travelling under the protection of a Fatwa could expect fresh mounts, provisions, shelter, guides, and secure storage along the way. Even official envoys made use of the system. Its upkeep was divided among the various hordes according to customs so old and intricate that no outsider could hope to understand them completely.

In practical terms, the Fatwa was the foundation upon which much of commerce in the Steppes rested. And that was precisely why Mo Jian and the others had never seriously considered obtaining one. A Fatwa could not simply be forged. It could not even be misused. Only a genuine merchant or trader could be granted one, whether by a Khan of the Steppes – who invoked a surviving fragment of the authority once wielded by the Khan of the Great Horde – or by the authorities of the Empire.

And once granted, its conditions were absolute. If they obtained a genuine Fatwa, they would have to abide by its terms. They would have to conduct themselves as merchants, and as merchants alone. The Fatwa would not permit them to claim its protection while secretly pursuing some entirely different purpose. Pretending to be merchants was one thing, but pretending to possess the Fatwa was another. The former was a deception, while the latter was simply impossible. That was why they had never bothered trying to disguise themselves as merchants from the moment they crossed the Wall. There was no clever trick they could play with the Fatwa, no loophole they could exploit, and no way to produce a false document that would survive scrutiny.

The Kiyat were not wrong to place such absolute faith in the Fatwa. They were merely placing that faith in the wrong thing. The Fatwa itself was trustworthy, while the people claiming to possess one were not. Mo Jian understood the distinction perfectly. But ultimately, they were the ones standing in enemy territory, not the Kiyat. If the strangers claiming to possess a Fatwa turned out to be lying – as they were – then it was the strangers who would bear the consequences, not the Kiyat.

The conversation soon turned to trade and news from the wider world, and that was where his attention sharpened. He listened eagerly. Every word mattered; while one wrong answer could expose them, that was also precisely why they had come here in the first place. They needed information.

"…and that bastard piece of excrement – may the Holy Qilin burn him in Heaven – had to go wagging his tail to the Orange Horde." Yesui – as the matriarch had introduced herself when introducing her tribe at the start of the conversation – spat the words with such venom that Mo Jian instinctively straightened. "What next? Chiggis Khan is an ambitious man, and he listened to Chatur. And so, this damned war has begun."

She shook her head, her expression darkening. "That said, I am glad to know trade has not stopped. There was fear at first that the Wall would shut its gates. The Kiyat do a great deal of trade with the lands beyond it, so it is good news indeed to know that merchants are still coming."

Mo Jian nodded along, carefully maintaining the expression of a merchant who was merely interested in the fortunes of his trade. It was somewhat difficult. The rug beneath him was coarse and scratchy, the sort of thing that made him wonder whether it had been woven or simply beaten into submission. The Yuan were all four-legged, and even when they folded their legs beneath themselves to sit, they towered over him. Their sheer size made the tent feel smaller than it actually was. Then there was the smoke. A brazier burned in the center of the tent, sending thin streams of fragrant smoke curling toward the ceiling. It was probably pleasant by Yuan standards. To Mo Jian, it was an assault on his eyes. He blinked repeatedly, fighting back the sting and doing his best not to look like he was about to start weeping in the middle of an important conversation.

More importantly, he was keeping his use of qi to an absolute minimum. He refused to use it to soothe his burning eyes or steady his breathing. The only thing he had prepared was the Heaven Enshrouding Ding, should the need arise. Nothing more. A single careless display of cultivation could be disastrous. If they were discovered, they would have no choice but to fight their way out, and doing so would not only expose them, but completely complicate their plans for the Northern Steppes.

When Mo Jian had asked Muxue about the same matter before they entered the tent, she had merely shrugged, almost wistfully. Remaining unknown was a core component of their plan, and here they were, having failed at the very first step barely a day after entering the Steppes.

"The worst that could have happened has happened," she had replied, with an almost pleasant resignation. "What's the point of worrying now?"

Mo Jian had been surprised. That did not sound like her at all. The Muxue he knew would have dissected the situation from a dozen different angles and devised at least three contingency plans before anyone else had finished speaking. Instead, she had simply accepted it. Perhaps she had finally realized there was no use mourning a plan that had already fallen apart. Or perhaps-

Mo Jian pushed the thought away.

There had been little time for questions. They had made their way to the tent, and from that point onward, they had simply begun conversing with the tribe's leaders. Now, as the matriarch and Muxue continued speaking, Mo Jian listened carefully.

"…actually heading in the direction of the Grey Horde," Muxue was saying. "We have heard that the glorious Khan of that horde is deeply interested in trade and often hosts merchants in his own tent. Besides, there are enough Yams along the way to keep us well supplied as we head deeper in."

The elders exchanged looks. Even Yesui looked surprised. "The Grey Horde?" she asked, sounding genuinely baffled. "Kawarameit is closer, if you want to head to a great encampment, and Torghui Khan is as welcoming to merchants as anyone I have heard of. The Turquoise Horde also sends their own Ortoghs to the Wall every year. If you are fortunate enough to arrive at the right time, you could do your business there and accompany them south again."

She frowned. "Compared to those, the Grey Horde is both poorer and farther away."

Muxue nodded readily. "True, true. But spirit stones are not the only thing on my mind. If my caravan can establish a connection with Tayang Khan, then that could mean steady business for decades. I have heard that the Khan is young and not particularly prone to war." She smiled. "What better target for a merchant?"

Yesui still did not look convinced, but she nodded grudgingly. "I suppose. That does bring me to an important question. What goods do you have on hand? If you have a Xumi painting, the Kiyat will pay handsomely for it. We lost our last one twenty years ago and have not recovered another since."

Muxue immediately sat up straighter, looking every bit the seasoned merchant she was pretending to be. "Silk, of course," she began.

A chorus of approving nods followed.

"Tea and spices as well. We have low- to mid-grade magical tools, all refined by Foundation Establishment tool refining masters, ranging from offensive and defensive implements to those intended for logistical use. Besides that, we have brought along a great number of jade slips containing recent scriptures and stories, refined ingots of Bin Steel, several sacks of spirit rice, and a batch of Rank Four puppets."

Mo Jian kept his expression perfectly neutral. As far as he knew, they did not have a single item on that list. If they cleaned out their storage pouches, they might be able to scrape together a few half-hearted substitutes, but the difference would be obvious. Their group might pass for a merchant caravan at a glance, but there was no way it could withstand serious scrutiny. Which meant Muxue clearly had no intention of staying long enough for anyone to ask. They would play the merchants, gather whatever information they could, and leave the moment they had what they came for.

He could only hope that was before they began a war with the Kiyat tribe.

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