A family of loyal martyrs, starting with nine wives to continue the family line.

"stop."

He half-squatted down, ran his fingertips across the snow, and his expression immediately changed.

"These aren't our people."

Two old soldiers patrolling nearby also came over.

The footprints were shallow, but the landings were steady, clearly indicating that the person was used to walking in the snow all year round, deliberately avoiding the outer edge of the campfire and heading straight into the snowdrift to the north.

If he hadn't gotten up early tonight and happened to pass by that leeward slope, no one would have noticed this thing.

"You didn't see a single person, and you still dared to go in."

He followed for half a mile, and the further he went, the colder he felt inside.

These footprints aren't for exploring the way; they're for scouting the area.

When he circled around to the edge of a snowdrift, he saw a person wrapped in an old fur coat huddled inside, clutching an oilcloth bag tightly to his chest.

The man looked up and his eyes darted to the sides.

The old guard didn't give him a chance to speak; he slammed the back of his knife into his wrist, and the oilcloth bag fell into the snow with a thud.

sheepskin.

There's also sealing wax.

"Take it down."

He gave a low shout, and two old soldiers rushed forward and twisted the man upside down in the snow.

The scout struggled twice, then immediately uttered a string of Northern Rong words, trembling with anxiety.

The old guards couldn't understand and were too lazy to listen.

"Take him away. Go see the Prince."

When Xiao Heng saw the person, he was looking at the Northern Border Army register in the tent.

An oil lamp, a few pages of old paper, and some unfinished tea on the table.

The old prince didn't even lift his eyelids; his first sight was of the oilcloth bag.

That's a common tactic used by Northern Rong spies: wrapping sheepskin in wax to protect it from snow and water, while inside are mostly routes and messages.

He felt a little more at ease.

Liu Suan was indeed nearby.

"Your Highness."

The old guard shoved the man forward: "He was caught in the snowdrift, and he was carrying a letter."

The scout was forced to kneel, his hair still covered in ice, but his eyes were rapidly scanning the people inside the tent.

Xiao Heng looked at him but didn't speak immediately.

He was thinking about something else.

The fact that Liu dared to extend his reach beyond Yunzhong Town shows that the northern border was not a mere show of force.

He truly put down roots on the grasslands, and quite deeply at that.

If it were just a few scattered soldiers, they wouldn't dare to deliver the supplies to Huaiyuan Fort, Zheliu Pass, and Heishise Pass.

But if he manages to win over all seven tribal leaders, it will be no small matter; it could result in deaths.

"Whose people?" Xiao Heng asked.

The scout gritted his teeth and remained silent.

The old guard kicked him in the back of the knee.

"The prince has a question for you!"

The scout grunted, but remained silent.

Xiao Heng raised his hand.

"Don't rush, pry open her mouth first."

Nobody wasted words.

Two old soldiers pressed him down onto the wooden table, and the old guard took a red-hot iron shovel from the stove and waved it in front of the man's eyes.

The scout's face turned pale instantly, and his throat moved.

"I'll talk... I'll talk!"

Xiao Heng then raised his eyes.

"explain."

The scout was panting heavily, managing to squeeze out his words in fits and starts:

"The old royal tent... is deep in the snowfield... Master Liu Suan is there. All seven leaders went: the Northern Rong, the Snow Wolf, the Black Horn, the Red Fox... all agreed. On the day the imperial examination begins, we'll head south. We'll all head south together."

The faces of the people inside the tent all darkened.

Xiao Heng didn't say anything, but tapped his finger lightly on the table.

Let's head south together.

What a great idea to head south together!

He didn't ask any pleasantries, he went straight to the point: "Where's the granary?"

The scout shuddered.

"Huaiyuanbao, Zheliuguan, Heishise... Mr. Liu said that as long as these three granaries are destroyed, the area north of Xinwu will be in chaos. They are all marked on the map, including troop rotations, patrols, and supply lines."

The old guard cursed, "Damn it, they've actually gotten close enough to our doorstep."

Xiao Heng felt even calmer.

What he feared most was not that Liu was clever, but that Liu was clever and willing to invest money.

The granaries, troop rotations, and patrol schedules—this wasn't just a guess; it was a thorough assessment of the northern border.

If someone like that just wanted to cause trouble with a few people, they wouldn't have gone this far.

He is no longer concerned with preventing a rebellion on the grasslands.

He was preparing for a snow disaster that would have a brain.

"Where's the map?" Xiao Heng asked.

The scout's Adam's apple bobbed, and his eyes swept across the ground.

The old guard immediately spread out the sheepskin.

Sure enough, it depicted several passes in the northern border, clearly indicating which trade routes passed through which mountain passes.

Xiao Heng glanced at it twice, and the veins on the back of his hand gradually bulged.

Liu Suan wasn't threatening anyone; he was choosing where to strike.

Once the imperial examinations begin, the documents in the capital will be in disarray, the former officials in Jingzhou will be in disarray, and the seven tribes in the north will simultaneously march south. The court will inevitably be unable to attend to both ends.

When Huaiyuan Fort falls, Zheliu Pass will fall as well, and Heishi Fortress won't hold out for long either.

He knew it very well.

This is not something that can be delayed.

But he also knew something else.

If this spy were taken to the capital now, Wei Zhao would be pleased, and the Embroidered Uniform Guard could then follow the trail and investigate further.

The problem is, with people like Liu Suan, there's less and less to be had once you peel away the layers.

If you mess with him today, he can change his appearance and start a fire elsewhere tomorrow.

The fire in the North needs to be contained at its source.

Xiao Heng stared at the sheepskin, remaining silent for a long time.

Seeing his strange expression, the old guard whispered, "Your Highness, should we surround the snowfield immediately?"

"Surround?"

Xiao Heng chuckled briefly.

"You're sending seven hundred men to surround the snowfield? He'll bury you in the snow, and you won't even be able to find your way back."

The old guard choked for a moment and didn't dare to take it.

Xiao Heng pushed the teacup aside, reached out and pulled a blank sheet of paper from the table, dipped it in ink, and began to write.

The scout stared wide-eyed when he saw him writing.

Instead of begging for mercy or ordering the killings, he began writing letters.

The scout was a little confused.

Xiao Heng wrote quickly, yet his characters were steady.

After he finished writing, he folded the paper, pressed it in his palm, and looked at the scout.

"Go back."

The scout was stunned.

The old guard was also stunned.

"Your Highness?"

Xiao Heng didn't look at them, but only at the scout.

"Take this letter back. Tell Liu Suan that I wish to see him."

The scout looked up abruptly, as if he hadn't heard clearly.

Xiao Heng handed over the letter, his voice flat: "It's at the beacon tower thirty miles outside Yunzhong Town. Tomorrow at dusk. If he dares to come, I will go alone."

The tent fell silent.

The old guard was the first to panic, lowering his voice as he said, "Your Highness, this won't do! That place is too close to the snowfield, and Liu Suan has at least several hundred personal guards with him. If you go alone, what if—"

"What if what?"

Xiao Heng looked up at him.

"What if he wants to kill me?"

The old guard felt a lump in his throat.

"If he really wanted to kill you, he wouldn't have needed to send this man."

Xiao Heng stuffed the letter into the spy's arms, his movements even remarkably calm.

"Liu Suan is no fool. He's escalated things to this point not just because he wants my life. He wants the northern border to follow him, he wants the grassland tribes to trust him, and he wants no one to stop the seven tribes when they march south."

He paused, and his tone suddenly turned cold.

"But I insist on going to see him."

The old guard was about to say something more, but Xiao Heng waved his hand.

"I know what you're thinking. You're afraid I won't come back. But if I don't go, the northern border will just rot on its own. If Liu manages to drive a nail into the snowfield, we'll have to pull it out along the entire northern front. Then even more people will die."

After he finished speaking, his gaze returned to the spy's face.

"You are a Northern Rong person."

The scout's lips moved, but he didn't dare to answer.

"You are also a man who grew up on the grasslands."

Xiao Heng's tone softened slightly: "Go back and think about it. What will your people gain by following Liu Suan in this mess? Grain, ironware, or a dead end?"

The scout's expression gradually changed.

Xiao Heng stood up and patted him on the shoulder.

"Go and deliver the message."

The tent flap was lifted, and the man was practically dragged out by the old guards.

Once outside the tent, a cold wind blew, and he seemed to come back to his senses, clutching the letter in his arms, his steps faltering.