For some reason, Hassan felt that the closer he got to the civilization of the Central Plains, the quieter his master became.
It was not hesitation or fear. It was more like he was conflicted.
Hassan knew his master had lived in the South before, but he knew nothing about what his master had experienced here.
He did not know why his master had gone to the grasslands, nor did he know why his master wanted to establish a new dynasty in the grasslands. Hassan always felt that his master had a lot on his mind.
Now, under the leadership of Yan Liuyuan, the Royal Court warriors were rushing to the outskirts of Stronghold 176 to rescue their enemies, the Bulan and Kirghiz tribes.
At first, Hassan did not understand Yan Liuyuan's actions because they were enemies.
But it was only later that he and the other tribal chiefs realized Yan Liuyuan was much more broad-minded than they were. The grasslands he wanted were complete grasslands that could lead to greatness. He didn't want the nomads to be content in a corner and content with themselves after they were fragmented.
The Bulan and Kirghiz tribes had three-quarters of the young and strong people in the grasslands, and there were still countless women, children, and elderly behind them. If the Bulan and Kirghiz tribes died in the Central Plains, the nomads would need another 15 years to catch their breath.
Yan Liuyuan did not want to wait that long. He wanted to subdue his former enemies in the flames of war.
At this moment, the Bulan and Kirghiz tribes were forced to retreat towards Mt. Zhuolu after being ambushed by their pursuers.
The nomads were mainly cavalry, so they were most afraid of the mountains. Once there, the mobility of their horses could not be put to use, and their bows and arrows were no match for the firearms of the Central Plains. In the end, they could only wait for death in the mountains.
But they had no other choice.
Just as Qing Shen's clone had said, a starving camel was still bigger than a horse. No matter how disappointing Stronghold 176 was, they still had outstanding generals and rich combat experience.
Although their mechanized troops were already useless, and their soldiers had been reduced from 40,000 to just over 10,000, Stronghold 176 was still not a place the nomads could casually provoke.
This was also the reason why Yan Liuyuan did not come to Stronghold 176.
The troops of Stronghold 176 had already split into two groups. One group lay in ambush near Mt. Zhuolu, while the other group took a detour around Mt. Yanqing.
By the time the Bulan and Kirghiz tribes were intercepted in front of Mt. Zhuolu, Stronghold 176's troops had already cut off their path from behind.
The leader of the Bulan tribe, Bulan Zir, stood in front of the mountain. He looked at the mountain path in front of him. Finally, he endured the pain and pulled out a dagger, stabbing it straight into the neck of his horse.
These majestic horses had followed him for many years, but now he had to kill them with his own hands.
The tall horse slowly fell down, turbid tears flowing from its eyes. Bulan Zir said in a low voice, "It was my stupidity that caused you to follow me to death. I probably won't live much longer. Don't worry, I will soon be with you in the sky, and the wind on the grassland will bring us together."
When the attendant heard this, he could not help but feel despair in his heart.
Actually, everyone understood that if the cavalry was forced into the deep mountains by the enemy, then there would be no way out. Otherwise, they would definitely not enter the mountains.
As Bulan Zir climbed up the mountain, the leader of the Kirghiz tribe, Kirghiz Yan, happened to be looking in their direction. The two of them were originally competitors, but now they could only become stray dogs together.
Kirghiz Yan said coldly, "This is great. If the two of us die together in Mt. Zhuolu, that kid will have it easy. From now on, the entire grasslands will belong to him."
Bulan Zir sighed and said, "Why are you saying this to me? I remember that you were the one who first said that you wanted to conquer the grasslands and determine the imperial court based on military results, right? If you hadn't said that, I wouldn't have lost my Bulan warriors' lives along with me. "
His attendant said, "You don't have to be so disheartened. Who knows, there might still be a chance for things to turn around!"
"What chance?" Kirghiz Yan sneered and said, "Unless that kid can bring his eight tribes over to rescue us. Do you think he'll be that kind? I'm afraid he'll even be secretly laughing when he finds out that we're going to die. He'll laugh at us for giving up the grasslands to him. "
"There's always a way out —"
Kirghiz Yan interrupted, "Besides, it's useless even if he comes. We all have to understand that it's impossible to fight against the Central Plains people without guns. Some of my warriors have even awakened their powers, but didn't they still get shot to death by the Central Plains people?"
The nomenclature of supernatural beings was not popular in the grasslands yet. They were all referred to as awakened warriors.
At this moment, they could already see their pursuers approaching from the top of the mountain. It was pitch black at the foot of the mountain, and Bulan Zir could even imagine the scene of the Central Plains people firing at them with heavy machine guns.
At that time, his brothers and warriors would fall one by one around him. Or perhaps he would be the first to fall.
Bulan Zir continued climbing up. This time, Stronghold 176 had learned of their plan to conquer the grasslands in advance and mobilized all their troops. They were probably trying to stabilize the situation for 15 years in one fell swoop.
As long as they were killed in Mt. Zhuolu, the grasslands would have to recuperate for 15 years.
The sound of gunfire rang out from the foot of the mountain. Bulan Zir looked back and felt his heart ache as he saw his tribe's warriors falling one by one. Blood flowed down the mountain rocks in a tragic manner.
But at this moment, one of Bulan Zir's subordinates suddenly shouted, "Look, someone's coming from behind the Central Plains troops!"
Bulan Zir and Kirghiz Yan turned around at the same time and were stunned. "It's cavalry!"
The Central Plains people had long since given up on the use of horses. So since the other party was riding a horse here, it must be someone from the grasslands.
Kirghiz Yan was silent for a moment. "Why would he come here? Shouldn't he be eager for us to die in the Central Plains?"
Bulan Zir thought for a moment and replied, "Maybe it's because we're all nomads?"
Kirghiz Yan sneered at this explanation. "When have we nomads ever had the concept of compatriots? Don't we follow whoever has the bigger fist? Besides, so what if he's here? Can a bow and arrow beat the firearms of the Central Plains people? "
Everyone fell silent. They knew Kirghiz Yan was right. No tribe in the grasslands would save another tribe. This was the law of the grasslands where the strong preyed on the weak. There was no concept of compatriots.
Therefore, they could only continue to climb up the mountain blindly and wait for their deaths.
Bulan Zir was already very exhausted. It was not physical exhaustion, but when he saw his brothers who had risked their lives with him dying beside him while he was powerless to do anything, he began to feel exhausted. Despair began to surge up his neck like a tidal wave, making it difficult for him to breathe.
But at this moment, he saw the cavalry in the distance slowly stop. Only one rider rode forward, and the young man on the horse had a unique temperament.
The man and horse slowly walked toward Mt. Zhuolu. The dark clouds above their heads slowly condensed, and lightning flashed behind the dark clouds. The entire sky seemed to become a huge vortex that sucked in everyone's souls.
Bulan Zir and the others on the mountain gradually forgot to run for their lives. They stood on the rocks and watched this scene in shock. They held their breaths in concentration.
This was not a power that humans could wield. It was clearly something that only gods could do!
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