Can't a princess ascend the throne?

Chapter 337 Flying Birds
The soldier spoke with such sincerity that neither Murden nor Namtso said anything. They just still felt something was amiss.

Murdoch stared at the bowl of dark, murky medicine in front of him, as if he were looking at his mortal enemy.

"Is it okay if I don't drink it?"

"If you think you won't get smallpox, you don't have to drink it. Anyway, you're as strong as an ox, you won't die no matter who dies."

Namtso rolled his eyes at him, picked up the bowl, and drank half of it. He didn't actually want to drink this medicine of unknown origin, but his injuries were too severe. Namtso knew a little basic medicine, and he could smell anti-inflammatory and swelling-reducing herbs in the medicine, which was perfect for his current condition. As for the others, he couldn't smell them immediately. Anyway, there was only half a bowl of medicine; even if there were problems, drinking it wouldn't kill him, but if he didn't drink it, he probably wouldn't survive.

They had come to win a battle, but who knew they would encounter such a setback? Therefore, the army's medicine supplies were truly scarce. Murdon was quite frustrated, but ultimately drank it anyway. After all, he was also very afraid of smallpox. It was just that, how should I put it? This stuff not only looked unpalatable, but it tasted even more bitter. Forcing down the bowl of this "miracle medicine," the bugle call to depart sounded, and the two led their remaining troops to follow in the footsteps of Khan Saqi. Although they occasionally faced teasing from their brothers, the fact that they had all come together and were returning together was already a great stroke of luck.

Actually, it wasn't a good time to travel, as it was getting dark. However, no one dared to gamble on whether the Jing soldiers would catch up, so even though everyone was exhausted, they still kept up with the main force.

Muldor and Namtso were always the center of attention wherever they went, and everyone knew their relationship wasn't good. Now that they had returned from a defeat, few people cared for them, so they didn't need to hide their relationship as usual. Especially now, Muldor rode his horse beside Namtso, looking around and closely observing the situation at Namtso.

He wasn't making this up out of thin air; Namtso's expression was simply not good.

"We still have two days to go before we get there. You're not going to collapse halfway through, are you?"

"...If you say less, I can rest a little longer. I always feel uneasy if you keep an eye on your surroundings."

"You're overthinking it. Okay, okay, I'll keep an eye on my surroundings. Do you want to ride the same horse as me? You can lean on me and take a nap."

Namtso shuddered violently. He could tolerate it before because of the circumstances, but now that there was no danger around, the thought of him riding the same horse as this giant was unbearable. Besides, their warhorses were exhausted; they should let them rest.

The group hurried along for over an hour, only stopping when it was pitch black and they could see their own hands in front of their faces. As they sat by the campfire eating, Muldur looked up into the distance. All around was darkness; apart from their campfire, the boundary between heaven and earth was indistinguishable. Having grown up on the grasslands, this scene was not unfamiliar to them, but perhaps because of their defeat, or perhaps because it was an unfamiliar place, a sense of homesickness welled up within them.

Those who are fighting outside are barely able to eat their fill, but are their families at home able to fill their stomachs? So many cattle and sheep died when they left, has the situation improved now? Since they were unharmed by those miraculous medicines and they could even resist smallpox, are their families able to get them too?

Each and every one of these things felt like a sandbag piled up in their hearts, leaving them feeling depressed and unable to express their feelings.

Namtso was affected by the somber atmosphere and felt somewhat dazed. The flickering firelight seemed to have some kind of magic, making his mind go increasingly blank, until suddenly a string of half-cooked horse meat appeared in front of him.

"What are you thinking about? Hurry up and fill your stomach. How will your wound heal if you don't eat?" "Can you cook it?"

"You're still complaining about my cooking at a time like this? I'll slap you and you'll behave."

"Forget it, give it to me."

Namtso had never expected anything from his useless older brother's cooking skills; he'd rather let him do it himself. Having finally filled his stomach, Namtso looked up at the dark sky, his mood sour. Earlier, when everyone had stopped to reorganize, he had wanted to visit his father, the Khan, but had been stopped by the fourth brother's men. He wondered how his father was doing now; that fourth brother had truly risen to power overnight, a scoundrel indeed. He was making it so obvious, wasn't he afraid of being attacked by the other brothers?

And then there's Father Khan. Usually, when everyone sets up camp, Father Khan would come out to boost morale, but tonight, he didn't come out even once. I don't know if it's because his injuries are too severe or if there's some other reason.

Meanwhile, the Northern Frontier Army, traveling along Namtso Lake, had been pondering this inexplicable battle situation. They had never encountered such a one-sided conflict before. It was as if an unseen hand had been subtly manipulating the situation, suddenly tightening the precarious balance between the Northern Frontier and the grasslands, catching them completely off guard. The sudden appearance of strange, highly lethal weapons; the seemingly invincible fighting spirit despite the abundance of firecrackers; even their previously scarce supplies were now plentiful. There had to be a reason for all this. Even if Emperor Jingtai, sitting on his throne, had suddenly developed trust in the Northern Frontier Army, there had to be some catalyst…

Before long, his head began to throb violently again. The injuries he had sustained during the day had not improved despite the herbs and miraculous medicines he had applied; instead, he was suffering from a persistent low-grade fever. This relentless heat was almost burning him to ashes. However, to outsiders, the little prince only appeared somewhat pale, perhaps because he was saddened by his defeat.

At this moment, only one person could see the resentment in his heart.

Suddenly, a large hand slapped him from behind, grabbing the back of his head and rubbing it.

"Alright, stop thinking so much. Thinking too much will make you age faster. Besides, we've already lost, so why think so much? We'll just find a way to win back later. If you keep thinking about it, I'm afraid you'll burn yourself to death."

"...Take care of yourself first."

Namtso was sharp-tongued, but she was genuinely a little more relaxed, perhaps because someone was standing behind her.

However, in the pitch-black night, no one noticed that some birds, perfectly hidden under the cover of darkness, quietly flew away.

That night, amidst their fear and trembling, the grassland army finally managed to rest. The next morning, everyone regained their energy and spirits, and after regrouping, they headed deeper into the grasslands under the guidance of experienced eagle-wielding guides.

(End of this chapter)