Finest Servant

Chapter 563 Helan Mountain Will Never Fall

The sky of the grasslands changed as easily as a child's face. When they set out, it was clearly the calm of sunset, but after riding for just a couple of hours, a drizzling rain started to fall. Rain on the grasslands differed from that on the plains; without mountains or valleys to obstruct it, rain fell like pillars, stinging the face as it struck. The winds on the grassland were erratic, howling with wild abandon, tossing the mist and rain this way and that, sometimes east, sometimes west. A heavy blanket seemed to cover the silent, darkening expanse, enshrouded in the green mist that hung between heaven and earth.

This was the first rain they had encountered since entering the grasslands. It fell neither too early nor too late, teaching Lin Wanrong the full extent of nature's whims.

The rain wet the hooves of the horses, making the lush grass slick with moisture and turning the soil to slippery mud. The pace of the warhorses had to slow. The soldiers marched in the rain, their clothes soaked through. From a distance, this cavalry appeared like clouds drifting through the heavy mist, moving rapidly yet in perfect formation.

"The horses are slipping, and our speed is seriously affected. At this rate, I fear we won't reach Ha'er Helin until the early morning," Hu Bugui said, wiping the rain and sweat from his face, a worried look in his eyes.

This was truly bad luck. Lin Wanrong had accounted for many things, but not the weather. He sighed, "Rain in the west while the sun rises in the east. What worries me is that while we are caught in this downpour, the allied forces of the Ha'er Helin and Ejina tribes may be marching under a clear, starry sky. Their speed would greatly outpace ours. If they reach Dalanzha and find no trace of us, they will surely rush back. The Turkic people would ride day and night to rescue Yujia, and likewise, they would ride back just as fast. If we're not careful, we may end up cornered."

Lin Wanrong's concerns were valid. After much effort to lure thousands of capable men from Ejina and Ha'er Helin, his aim was to exploit this time difference and launch a surprise attack. But this unexpected heavy rain threatened to ruin that advantage. If caught by the Turkic people, escaping would become a difficult task.

Hu Bugui nodded gravely, "General, you are absolutely right. While it rains here, the weather in Dalanzha could very well be clear. The unpredictable weather on the grasslands is like a child's face; no one knows when it will change. Our scouts up ahead have not returned yet, so we don't know the situation there."

"So what should we do now? Advance or halt?" Gao Qiu asked anxiously.

"We can't stop," Lin Wanrong declared firmly. "We are in a race against time. Our window of opportunity is equal to that of the Turkic people. If we halt now, by the time those Turkic troops return to their tribes, all our efforts would have been in vain. Who knows when we'll get another chance to pass through Ejina and advance on the Turkic court. Brother Hu, what are your thoughts?"

Hu Bugui nodded solemnly and said, "I agree with the general's opinion. This is a heaven-sent opportunity we cannot afford to miss. War is, by nature, a risky business."

"Excellent," Lin Wanrong waved his hand vigorously. "Order all our men to spare no horses. Speed is of the essence now. We'll replenish our warhorses and supplies once we take Ejina."

The trio resolved, without further ado, to move forward. Leading five thousand soldiers, they advanced through the rain. Navigating the vast, dark grasslands required a keen sense of direction. To avoid getting lost or scattered, Hu Bugui, the most experienced in grassland terrain, took the lead while Gao Qiu brought up the rear. Together, they coordinated smoothly and headed toward Ha'er Helin. The only carriage in the procession was reserved for Li Wuling. No matter how dire the circumstances, they would never abandon one of their own.

As the rain intensified, visibility plunged. Lin Wanrong could only chuckle wryly at the heavens, for even his horse had trouble maintaining its footing on the suddenly treacherous plains.

After an indeterminate amount of time, soaked to the bone, Lin Wanrong shivered uncontrollably. He glanced at the nearby horse. The Turkic girl riding it was just as drenched; her wet clothes clung tightly to her body, emphasizing her striking physique. Rainwater saturated her hair, streaming down her cheeks in clear rivulets. She appeared pale, her eyes shut tight, her delicate form shivering in the harsh wind and cold rain, like a fragile blade of grass.

‘The heavens are impartial,’ Lin Wanrong sighed. ‘Both the people of Great Hua and the Turkic tribes suffer under the same sky.’

Pulling a robe from his bag, a garment that was among the few belongings he had left, and one sewn by Qiaoqiao herself, Lin Wanrong draped it over the shivering girl.

A flicker of warmth thawed her cold body. Opening her eyes, she found herself enveloped in a fragrant, new robe. Raindrops splashed onto the fabric, leaving fresh wet marks.

"I don't want—don't want your false compassion!" she snapped, turning her head away in anger. Her face flushed, tear tracks—or were they rain?—slid down her cheeks.

Wiping the rain off his face, Lin Wanrong shook his head and chuckled coldly, "Call it false compassion, then. When will your Turkic people learn to offer even that?"

Rain streamed down his dark face. His once neat hair was now disheveled, and the vivid lipstick marks had faded under the relentless rain. Immersed in the downpour, his entire demeanor seemed changed, tinged with a form of disarray that was different from before.

The young girl huffed, "It's none of your business what we Turks do." Her voice had unintentionally softened, and beneath the cold, she instinctively burrowed deeper into the warmth of the robe.

Observing the shivering Yujia curled up, Lin Wanrong chuckled and remarked, "The robe is warm, isn't it? My wife spent several nights sewing it by hand before I went off to war. In our Great Hua tradition, before a soldier departs for battle, his wife or lover would personally sew clothes for him, hoping for his safe return. But as time passes and seasons change, how many of these brave warriors actually return from the battlefield? Countless beautiful women wait their entire lives, turning into 'waiting wife stones' on the mountain cliffs—a sentiment deeply rooted in our Great Hua culture. It's something you Turks will never understand."

Yujia became instantly irritated, "It's not only in your Great Hua that such devoted lovers exist. Our Turk men and women share the same sentiments. Every Turk woman's lover battles on the frontlines. They too risk their lives and face eternal separation from their beloved wives."

"Why the hell do you keep instigating wars then? For fun?" Lin Wanrong roared in anger, his eyes blazing. With a swift motion, he whipped the steed carrying Yujia. Holding the reins, the horse neighed and pranced, causing Yujia's figure to sway gracefully.

Witnessing Lin Wanrong's furious, flushed face, Yujia's chest heaved rapidly, "Wo Lao Gong, how dare you insult me?"

"Insulting you is the least of it," Lin Wanrong retorted with a dark expression, "If you anger me further, I'll show you what a real bandit is like. You think you're beautiful? I'll strip you bare and let the wolves of the plains and your own people admire your beauty!"

His sudden change in demeanor was startling. One moment he was speaking gently, and the next, he was raging like a wild beast. The fiery intensity in his eyes sent chills down Yujia's spine.

She gritted her teeth and defiantly raised her face, "War is waged so that my people and future generations can acquire richer lands. So they can escape the harsh elements and lead prosperous lives. What's wrong with that?"

With a sharp slap, Lin Wanrong struck Yujia's curvaceous behind, the crisp sound echoing in the distance.

"What's wrong? Just because you want your people to live better, you think you can invade others' lands and slaughter other races?" Lin Wanrong, now truly angered, slapped her again, the sound clear and distinct. "Every rogue in the world desires you. Does that mean they can tie you up, strip you, and do as they please? How can you justify such bandit logic? Open your eyes and see. The wars you instigate lead to the devastation of two nations and rivers of blood. What have you gained? Rich lands? Prosperous lives? Ask your people. When they die in battle, do they find wealth and abundance? I really want to punch you!"

He had asked a question and then slapped Yujia on her buttocks. The loud sound startled everyone around. The soldiers passing by stared at the furious dark-faced commander, wanting to laugh but not daring to. Hu Bugui and Gao Qiu exchanged glances. Old Gao nodded, "Brother Lin has lost his temper. The Turkic girl is in trouble now!"

Humiliated by this bandit and watched by the laughing people of Great Hua, the Turkic girl whimpered. Her cheeks turned bright red in an instant, and her chest heaved rapidly. She glared at him fiercely, her voice trembling with rage, "Wo Lao Gong, kill me. Just kill me."

Lin Wanrong flexed his sore wrist, thinking about how bouncy the girl's buttocks were, making his scalp tingle. He chuckled coldly, "Why would I kill you? Weren't you so keen on conquering others? I want to show you how you and your people are conquered by others!"

"We, the Turkic people, will never be conquered!" Yujia struggled continuously. Raindrops hit her body and face, and her slightly blue eyes were filled with tears of defiance.

"Never be conquered?" Lin Wanrong sneered, slowly moving closer to her face, "Miss Yujia, look into my eyes."

The girl unconsciously lifted her head, meeting Lin Wanrong's dark pupils. The despicable bandit's eyes were clear as water, as transparent as crystal, deeper than the starry sky. It felt familiar, and Yujia was momentarily stunned. Tears rolled down like rain, and she quickly lowered her head, "Look, look at what?! I won't look!"

Lin Wanrong burst into laughter, "I want you to remember my black eyes and yellow skin. This is a nation that has never been conquered. They have a vast culture and profound civilization, standing tall in this world for thousands of years, never falling. But your Turkic people," he waved his hand dismissively, "in a few hundred years, the name 'Turkic' will only exist in history."

Yujia gasped, "Nonsense. We Turkic are invincible. We will continue forever!"

"Continue forever? With your constant wars and killings? Wake up, little sister!" Lin Wanrong said, patting her cheek, "Humans shouldn't think with their buttocks—ouch—you bit me again!"

In his moment of triumph, his finger had landed near Yujia's lips. The Turkic girl bit down hard, showing no mercy. The intense pain made Lin Wanrong scream and pull back his finger, which now bore clear bite marks, oozing blood. Yujia stared at him, her eyes gleaming with vengeful satisfaction.

This little she-wolf! Lin Wanrong snorted and casually patted her buttocks again. Yujia whimpered, her face as red as blood, filled with shame and anger.

After disciplining the little she-wolf, the storm continued on the grassland. They were now only around twenty miles away from Ha'er Helin.

"General Lin, General Lin—" Hu Bugui rode his horse, braving the rain and wind, rushing from the front of the team. He was followed by several fast horses. They stopped in front of Lin Wanrong, and as Hu Bugui dismounted, tears began to form in his eyes.

"Brother Hu, what's wrong?" Lin Wanrong was startled. A tough man like Hu Bugui would never shed tears, even if it killed him.

Hu Bugui hurriedly shook his head, wiping away the tears in his eyes. He chuckled, "No, no, it's not what you think. I'm happy, General. Look, who's this?"

With a grin, he stepped aside, revealing a figure behind him—a young man of about sixteen or seventeen, his face sunburned, looking competent and elated as he stared at Lin Wanrong.

Lin Wanrong was momentarily stunned, then he hugged the young man and roared, "Little Xu, Xu Zhen! Is it really you? How did you get here? How did you find us? My god, it’s like a pie falls from the sky!"

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Xu Zhen joyously clenched his fists and said, "General, Advisor Xu sent me!"

Advisor Xu? Xu Zhiqing? The name was both familiar and unfamiliar. Lin Wanrong felt a surge of emotion, almost to the point of tears. Although they had been apart for only a short time, amidst the bloody battles across these grasslands, Helan Mountain and Miss Xu seemed as distant as clouds in the sky, seemingly having no relation to this isolated army.

Now, with Xu Zhen's sudden appearance, Lin Wanrong felt a return to reality. Though he had no idea how Xu Zhen had managed to find him, Xu Zhiqing's sentiments were as solid as the mountainous walls of Helan.

"General, this is a letter from Advisor Xu to you," Xu Zhen said, suppressing his excitement. He took out a small piece of sheepskin from his boot, unwrapped it, and revealed a clean letter inside.

A letter from Xu Zhiqing? Lin Wanrong took the letter, his palms slightly trembling. For this army deep in the grasslands, Helan Mountain was their root.

"The Battle of Bayanhot. Your reputation soars. You've penetrated the grasslands, cut off enemy supplies, and defended our homeland with your flesh and blood. The Turks tremble at the mention of your name. To express my gratitude, I have only this to say: Xu Zhiqing may die, but Helan Mountain will never fall!"

"Xu Zhiqing may die, but Helan Mountain will never fall." Just this one sentence said it all. Lin Wanrong grabbed Hu Bugui's hand and said softly yet firmly, "Brother Hu, Helan Mountain is still in our hands."

Old Hu wiped his tears and broke into a hearty laugh. "I knew it! Advisor Xu would definitely hold Helan Mountain. Du Xiuyuan, this bookish fellow, is quite something. Xu Zhen, all of you are remarkable! Our fights on these grasslands have not been in vain!"

"Your feelings are known to me, but the journey ahead is long and fraught with danger. Please take care of yourself and don't make people worry. I'm dressed in my best, half-buried in the sand. Day and night, I pray for your triumphant return."

The letter was like Xu Zhiqing herself: exceedingly simple, yet incredibly resolute. "Half-buried in the sand, awaiting your triumphant return"—this cryptic last sentence was their private code, understood only by Lin Wanrong. Though the letter was short, it was laden with unsaid emotions and profound implications.

Lin Wanrong gently caressed the white letter, overwhelmed with emotion. Rainwater hit his hair and face, mingling with his tears and dripping down. For a long time, he remained silent.

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