Can't a princess ascend the throne?

Chapter 309 Do you think it's useful?

As Sachi stared blankly at the shocking numbers, his two sons entered the royal tent one after the other.

Murdon and Namtso entered together in perfect unison, a discovery that made Sachi frown. But he quickly burst into hearty laughter.

"My sons, have you brought back victory?"

Murton silently shook his head. He was usually quick-tempered, but he was surprisingly quiet this time.

Namtso, standing nearby, spoke up somewhat anxiously.

"Father Khan, our soldiers have suffered too many losses. The weather is getting colder and colder, and we don't have enough fur. Many soldiers have frostbite on their hands and feet. If we don't take care of it, they might lose their fingers or toes. How will they be able to hold their weapons and aim at the enemy then? This winter is too cold. Please order a retreat. There will be plenty of opportunities to fight the Great Jing. Why must we do it this year? And there's smallpox. To be honest, Father Khan, thirty percent of my warriors have contracted smallpox. They are currently vomiting and having diarrhea, fever, and weakness. They are simply unable to go to the battlefield. If this continues, I'm afraid we will not only fail to defeat the Great Jing, but we will also suffer even greater losses!"

"Are you blaming your father? Namtso, I don't remember teaching you that!"

"Father! I..."

"okay!"

Saki Khan abruptly stopped Namtso from speaking, perhaps because he didn't want to hear such an embarrassing reality. In his plan, they should have already advanced rapidly and were about to reach the capital of Dajing, but unexpectedly, they were still firmly blocked outside the pass by the tough nut of the Northern Frontier Army. Wasn't Yuchi already infected with smallpox? How come the Northern Frontier Army still has such strong fighting power? Yes, that Lin Chongshan is incredibly brave and was General Ying Chongming's most trusted subordinate. She is still alive and kicking, so the Northern Frontier Army won't be thrown into chaos for the time being.

This reality was simply unacceptable to Sachi. The losses had indeed exceeded his expectations, which was precisely why he couldn't turn back. If he were to slink back like this, wouldn't the whole world know that he, Sachi, had made such a foolish decision at the end of his life?
No, he absolutely cannot die with such a reputation!
“The people of Dajing are as weak as lambs. But we on the grasslands have many brave warriors. Now that we have only encountered some difficulties, are we going to give up so easily? What kind of warriors would we be? My sons, you have always been the bravest of warriors, the best of the grasslands. Are you going to be scared out of your wits by some difficulties before you?”

"...Of course we will bring back the glory, Father."

"That's good."

The two brothers emerged from the royal tent, heavy with their own thoughts. They glanced up at the imposing, imposing walls of the Great Jing Kingdom, then looked back at the gray, misty grassland. A cold wind swept across their faces, causing their skin to twitch. Namtso slowly exhaled a breath of stale air, sending up a trail of white mist.

It's getting colder and colder.

His gaze fell upon the shivering soldiers passing by, and Namtso felt utterly exhausted. He knew what his father, the Khan, wanted now: a true victory. But this victory should not come at the cost of the lives of countless warriors of the steppe.

In such cold weather, they should be staying in warm tents with their loved ones, instead of stepping onto foreign soil to launch an attack on a stubborn enemy.

The nature of the steppe people is plunder. That's true in itself. But any form of plunder must be based on a clear understanding of the strength of both sides. Under normal circumstances, they wouldn't be without a chance against the Great Jing. After all, they've been locked in a stalemate at the Northern Frontier Pass for over a decade, with neither side gaining the upper hand and the outcome evenly split. Although their soldiers are physically stronger and more resistant to the cold, this winter is much colder than usual. According to the Great Shaman, it will probably be the coldest winter in a century. Trees are scarce on the steppe, so firewood is also scarce. Cattle and sheep are dying in large numbers, and the amount of flammable cow dung is dwindling. Just last night, over two hundred soldiers froze to death in their sleep. If this continues, they fear that before they even engage in a real war with the enemy, their own people will be wiped out. Namtso, always the wisest among his brothers, has the longest-term vision. His repeated lamentations drew the attention of Murdon, who turned to look at him.

If you keep sighing like this, people might think we've already lost.

"What kind of time is this to be arguing with me? I don't believe you can't see that our chances of winning this war are slim. If this continues, our losses will be too great."

"...Do you think you can change Father's mind by just sighing a few times?"

"Would it kill you to say less things that annoy me?"

"I won't die, but I'll feel much better. Namtso, do you know that Shur is dead?"

Namtso suddenly froze. Shur was Murdon's wet nurse; to be honest, they had grown up together in the same tent, closer than even their own biological brothers. In his memory, Shur was a strong and robust man, whose fighting prowess was no less than his older brother's. How could such a man die without a sound?

"Did he die in yesterday's siege?"

"Ah!"

Murdon suddenly let out a cold laugh, which gave Namtso a sense of foreboding.

"If he had really died on the battlefield, that would have been fine; we would have sung hymns of praise for him. But he died of illness, from smallpox. Isn't that strange? Before we came out this time, he kept clamoring to compete with me for the title of the greatest warrior of the grasslands. He hadn't even participated in many real battles, and yet he died so quietly. I only found out this morning when I went to his tent to look for him; he had died yesterday afternoon. When I saw him, his body was as stiff as a block of ice, and his face was pale and black. It's really strange; aren't people with smallpox supposed to be in great pain? He hadn't come out for the past few days, saying he had stomach problems, and I actually believed him. He's always been a rather dim-witted person; even I can see through his lies. But his last lie was so subtle that no one noticed anything amiss."

"My brother, why do you think he died?"

Namtso felt a sudden tremor in his heart and didn't know what to say for a moment. Smallpox was so terrible. No matter how tall and strong a man was, once he contracted this disease, he would gradually become weak from the inside out. It was even more serious than the wounds he suffered on the battlefield.

"Didn't he take the medicine the high shaman gave him?"

"You think that will be useful?"

Murden was acting very strangely today. He sneered and stomped on the withered grass beneath his feet. In winter, even the grass that used to grow everywhere on the grassland turned this dry and withered. Murden knew that in a few days, even this withered grass would disappear. It would either be eaten by hungry cattle and sheep or by hungry herders.

(End of this chapter)