Before dealing with the captured queen and prince of the Kingdom of Nan Zhao, Mou Di Ru Zan had to address the defeat of Duoji's attack on the Tang dynasty's Anxi Shule Town, a mere appetizer before a lavish feast.
Several Tibetan soldiers in military attire escorted three disheveled defeated soldiers into the grand hall of the Kingdom of Nan Zhao royal palace. Leading them was Duoji, followed by his two seemingly loyal lieutenants.
All three bore the disheveled look of a crushing defeat, their faces etched with complex emotions. Witnessing the mountain of corpses inside the palace, their complexions turned even paler. Although all three feared Mou Di Ru Zan's wrath, Duoji appeared to maintain a forced composure, while the other two were in extreme panic, trembling uncontrollably, barely able to stand.
Mou Di Ru Zan, bare-chested, sat majestically on his throne, with the mutilated body of a Saintess lying at his feet. He towered above, glaring at the three kneeling defeated soldiers, his initially pleased expression suddenly turning to furious rage. His brutality and mood swings were precisely what instilled fear in everyone. However, his silver-masked strategist, Mr. Zhang, was a stark contrast. Hidden behind the silver mask, he seemed detached from all emotional changes, as if indifferent to the death and chaos around him.
The scent of blood and death permeated the palace, creating an oppressive atmosphere. "Duoji... you have truly disappointed me. A small town like Shule, and you couldn't conquer it, wasting Mr. Zhang's ingenious strategy... Hah, now speak, let me hear your excuses," Mou Di Ru Zan said condescendingly, his gaze filled with scorn and unmasked murderous intent.
"Mou Di Ru Zan, it's not that we lacked strength, but rather that Shule Town was under the protection of the Lord of Heaven..." one of the defeated soldiers stammered, his voice filled with terror and despair. They had fled from Anxi Protectorate all the way to the Kingdom of Nan Zhao royal city, enduring three days of escape, but to what end...
"Nonsense! Lord of Heaven? Utterly ridiculous!" Mou Di Ru Zan erupted in rage, his figure leaping up from his elevated throne. His movements were swift and fierce. Drawing the curved blade that had been thrust into the back of the Nan Zhao's Saintess, its edge gleaming with a cold light, he advanced step by step towards the shocked Tibetan soldiers.
"Your...Your Highness! It's true! Everything I said is true! The Lord of Heaven of the Tang dynasty possesses vast magical powers, can summon wind and rain, holds unmatched strength, invincible in battle, can move mountains, even make the heavens tremble..." The Tibetan soldier, looking up, spoke in a trembling voice, frantic to justify himself under Mou Di Ru Zan's icy and intimidating presence.
"Bullshit!" Mou Di Ru Zan's face contorted with anger, burning like a fierce fire. With a swing of his blade, cutting through the air, a scream abruptly ceased. The Tibetan soldier who had just spoken fell silent, blood spraying as his throat was cut with a single stroke!
"You say..." Mou Di Ru Zan looked disdainfully at the trembling corpse, his gaze sharp as a knife, then turned to the other terrified soldier, interrogating him.
"Ah... I... don't know... help me... Lord of Heaven..." He was so terrified that his speech was incoherent, his voice hoarse.
The wind howled fiercely. Mou Di Ru Zan, gripping the handle of his sword tightly, swung it down fiercely from above, decapitating the coward with a single stroke.
"Such cowards dare to call themselves warriors of the Tibetan Empire?" Mou Di Ru Zan's gaze was as cold as frosty stars. In just a few seconds, two Tibetan soldiers had lost their lives.
Now, only Duoji remained. Duoji stood with his head bowed, cold sweat emerging on his forehead like bamboo shoots after rain, swallowing nervously, his heart filled with fear for his own fate.
"Hmph, a bunch of incompetents! Don't you realize the importance of Shule Town for my campaign into Anxi? Such a golden opportunity, wasted by you useless fools!" Mou Di Ru Zan, burning with rage, fiercely wiped the bloodstained blade in his hand, his gaze as sharp as a blade, staring intensely at the remaining Duoji.
In this terrifying and bloodthirsty atmosphere, Duoji seemed like prey targeted by a wild lion. Even the battle-hardened Tibetan guards couldn't help but feel fear in such a ferocious environment.
"Duoji, I want to hear what you have to say before you die," Mou Di Ru Zan's gaze was as cold and sharp as a blade, his voice cruel and merciless.
"Your Highness, Duoji's failure to capture Shule Town is a grave offense. I know my crime is unforgivable, I have no complaints and am willing to accept death," Duoji inhaled deeply, forcibly suppressing the fear in his heart, his voice firm and clear.
Mou Di Ru Zan's interest was piqued by Duoji's words. He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the general before him, trying to discern the truth and lies in his words. "You indeed deserve to die, but I still want to hear your explanation."
Mr. Zhang, the silver-masked strategist who had been silent in the corner, also quietly raised his head, his gaze shifting towards them. He was skeptical about the so-called protection of the Lord of Heaven, but the unusual rout of a thousand elite Tibetan cavalrymen sparked his curiosity about the real reason behind this defeat.
Duoji did not answer immediately. Instead, he slowly drew a curved blade from his waist. The ruby embedded in the hilt was particularly striking in the dim, deathly setting, starkly different from the crude weapons of ordinary soldiers.
Mou Di Ru Zan's gaze sharpened instantly, recognizing the curved blade he had awarded Duoji as a reward for his numerous military achievements. But now, that blade seemed different.
The blade was stained with a red liquid, making it look ferocious and terrifying. Mou Di Ru Zan knew it was blood, but the amount was astonishing. Even his own blade, which had just slain several people, had never been coated with such a dense layer of blood, as if the knife had been drawn directly from a pool of blood.
This anomaly had already been noticed by the silver-masked strategist, who knew there must be something unusual about it.
Seeing Mou Di Ru Zan's anger still unabated, Duoji continued, "Your Highness, following Mr. Zhang's plan, I led the army through a hidden path on the south side of the Tianshan Mountains to launch a surprise attack on Shule Town. Everything progressed as Mr. Zhang had predicted. The defending force of Shule Town was mere dozens of men, almost unguarded. Despite the long journey, with a thousand soldiers, we should have easily taken the town..." Duoji paused briefly, then continued solemnly, "However, at the time of the attack, a bizarre phenomenon suddenly erupted in Shule Town. A fierce wind arose, carrying sand and rocks, accompanied by an invisible force causing heavy casualties to our army. We launched three fierce assaults, even breaking into the city at one point, but were each time repelled by this mysterious power. The survivors of the Tang dynasty kept calling out 'Lord of Heaven', and there seemed to be a girl revered as 'Saintess'... The blood on this curved blade is the proof that I unintentionally wounded the Tang deity!"
Mou Di Ru Zan listened to Duoji's account, his brow furrowed. Although he was wild in nature, he was not ignorant or foolish. Duoji's words seemed credible; how could a thousand elite Tibetan soldiers be repelled by just a few dozen Tang remnants? Moreover, Mou Di Ru Zan, as the second son of the Tibetan Emperor Trisong Detsen, held less prominence in the dynasty compared to his brother, Mou Ni Zan, surrounded by a host of talented subordinates. Among his own forces, apart from Duoji, only Tuli and Muge could be considered generals. Killing Duoji rashly would bring him no benefit.
Mou Di Ru Zan turned to look at the silver-masked strategist, who appeared expressionless, like a spectator watching a play.
"Mr. Zhang, what is your opinion on this matter?" Mou Di Ru Zan asked.
The silver-masked strategist fell into deep thought. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke, "Your Highness, I believe General Duoji's words are not false. If Guo Xin, the Protector-General of Anxi, had not arrived in time to reinforce, Shule Town could not possibly have held out. The current situation can only be described as miraculous. I advise that we first resolve the immediate problem, and then have Your Highness personally lead an expedition to Shule Town to discern the truth. If Duoji is found to be lying, it will not be too late to execute him then."
"Well!" Mou Di Ru Zan's eyes twinkled with cunning. The words of the silver-masked strategist were exactly what he wanted to hear. At the same time, a sinister interest arose in his heart – his perverse fascination with tormenting the Saintess. If there indeed was a 'Saintess' in Shule Town, it would undoubtedly be a highly attractive prospect for Mou Di Ru Zan.
...
At last, Duoji became the sole survivor among the dozen or so returning defeated Tibetan cavalrymen. The other defeated soldiers were either beheaded or flayed, sending a clear message: on the battlefield, only Tibetan warriors who fight to the death are respected, and there is no place for those who fear death and seek to flee.
Standing outside the Kingdom of Nan Zhao royal palace, Duoji was mixed with relief and fear. Although he had escaped death's clutches, his comrades had not been so fortunate. He witnessed the heads of his soldiers, comrades, and brothers impaled on spears. He still remembered their names, but now, they had turned into cold corpses.
His face was pale, and a nameless rage surged in his heart. In this mad era, only an equal madness could survive. Regardless of what the Lord of Heaven was, Duoji vowed to avenge his fallen comrades.
As Duoji was lost in these thoughts, he suddenly saw several of Mou Di Ru Zan's guards escorting a woman in a black hooded cloak and two dirt-covered boys. They were being led into the palace of death that Duoji had just left.