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

The White Wolf tribe's troops stopped outside the west gate of the capital.

The road was crowded with people craning their necks, and the murmurs were like a surging tide, but no one dared to approach the two hundred knights.

The knights sat quietly on their horses, their leather armor gleaming dullly in the sunlight, their expressions as if carved from stone, devoid of any extra emotion.

The one leading the pack was not a horse, but a greyish-white camel that was a head taller than all the warhorses.

Li Huai stood on the city wall, looking at the army, his palms slightly damp.

The captain beside him had already gone down to relay the order.

Soon, a group of guards stepped forward and blocked the procession.

"Who goes there? Presenting this document!"

A deputy general of the White Wolf tribe, dressed in black armor, spurred his horse forward. He didn't hand over any documents, but simply spoke in broken Chinese:

"Bai Tu Kui, the leader of the White Wolf tribe, has come to the capital at the invitation of Emperor Xin Wu."

The garrison commander, his hand on the sword at his waist, replied neither servilely nor arrogantly:

"Since they are an envoy, proceed according to protocol. Verify their identities, count their numbers, and confiscate their weapons."

The black-armored lieutenant frowned slightly.

Although the two hundred knights behind him did not move, the silent pressure made the surrounding air feel heavier.

He glanced back at the leader on the camel.

The man on the camel nodded slightly.

The lieutenant then took out the delegation's roster from his pocket and handed it over.

The headcount was taken, the roster was checked, and then the weapons were confiscated.

The knights of the White Wolf tribe did not resist. One by one, they took off the scimitars from their waists and the short bows from their backs and threw them into the wooden boxes pushed over by the Xinwu soldiers.

The whole process was eerily quiet, with only the dull thud of weapons falling into the wooden crate.

Having done all this, the black-armored lieutenant spoke again, his voice low and deep: "When will the Emperor see our people?"

The captain replied expressionlessly, "His Majesty is waiting in the Hall of Supreme Harmony. But he only requests that the leader enter the palace."

Upon hearing this, the lieutenant's expression finally changed.

He turned his head sharply to look at his leader.

The man on the camel remained expressionless; he simply nodded again before dismounting from the towering camel's back.

He was taller than all the other new military officers present, with broad shoulders and a thick back, like a moving small mountain.

But his movements were surprisingly light; when his feet landed, he made almost no sound.

He is Bai Tukui.

No, he has a new name now.

He looked up, his gaze passing over the guards blocking his way, past the curious yet fearful people of the capital, and landing on the majestic palace gate in the distance.

His eyes were calm, and it was impossible to tell whether they held hatred or disdain.

The garrison captain made a "please" gesture.

He then stepped forward.

Two hundred guards were left behind and "escorted" by another squad of Imperial Guards to the post station outside the city.

Alone, with only a translator who had also been disarmed behind him, he walked toward the heart of the city that had killed his brother.

Hall of Supreme Harmony.

The enormous palace was completely empty.

There were no armored soldiers, no ceremonial guards, and no palace maids or eunuchs.

Only Wei Zhao, who sat high in the main seat and wore an ordinary black robe, stood there.

There were two cups of tea on the table in front of him, one beside him and the other in front of the empty seat opposite him.

The steaming tea rose gently, the only thing still moving in this vast hall.

Wei Zhao watched as the tall figure stepped across the threshold and entered the hall.

Bai Tu Kui's gaze also fell on him.

One is the emperor of a new dynasty who fought his way out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood; the other is a tribal chief who has spent half his life enduring the wind and sand of the desert.

The two stood a dozen steps apart, their eyes meeting in mid-air, neither speaking first.

Wei Zhao felt very calm.

He set up this trap to see what the other party's first move would be.

Is it to question angrily, to bow humbly, or to tentatively open one's mouth?

Bai Tu Kui did nothing.

He simply walked to the table and sat down.

The movements were very natural, as if they were walking into their own tent.

Wei Zhao's eyelids twitched.

This person was even more composed than he had expected. Ignoring all etiquette and rules, he sat down directly in the guest's seat.

It's not that he doesn't understand; it's that he simply doesn't care about these things.

After Bai Tu Kui sat down, he reached out and picked up the cup of tea in front of him.

He didn't drink it, but just looked at the tea swirling in the cup and spoke his first sentence in broken but clear Mandarin.

"My name is Ashina Jinle."

Wei Zhao tapped his fingers lightly on his knee.

Ashina.

This is the surname of the royal family of the White Wolf tribe.

Bai Tu Kui was the name of both his subject and his younger brother.

Ashina Jinle was his real name as a leader.

He was telling Wei Zhao that the person sitting here today is the king of the entire White Wolf tribe.

Jinle raised his head, his gaze like two awls, piercing straight at Wei Zhao.

"My brother's name is Ashina Tieyi."

He spoke slowly and deliberately, each word seeming to be squeezed out from between his teeth.

"To die beyond your borders, to die by your arrows."

The hall was deathly quiet.

Wei Zhao could sense that the translator following behind Jin Le was starting to tremble.

He had probably never heard of such a conversation in his life, where the hatred for the murder of his brother was laid bare before the emperor.

Wei Zhao did not avoid his gaze, and did not even change his sitting posture.

He looked into Kinler's eyes, his tone as indifferent as if he were talking about something that had nothing to do with him.

"I will not apologize for your brother's death."

Jinle's fingers, which were holding the teacup, suddenly tightened, and the veins bulged.

Wei Zhao seemed not to notice and continued, "He led 30,000 troops to attack the gate, while my general was merely defending the city. On the battlefield, it's either you die or I die. There's no room for reason."

He paused, then changed the subject.

"I have read your brother's last letter. He wanted to bring your people home. I have already sent the map back."

Wei Zhao's gaze fell on the teacup in Jin Le's hand.

"That's what he wants you to see. Not hatred, but the path."

Ashina Jinle did not move his hand holding the teacup.

He remained silent for a long time, so long that the translator thought he was going to splash the scalding hot tea directly onto the emperor's face.

But he didn't.

He glanced down at the tea in his cup, then tilted his head back and drank it all in one gulp.

The scalding hot tea slid down my throat like a line of fire.

He put down the cup with a soft "bang".

"I received the picture."

He raised his eyes, the sharpness in them seemingly softened by the tea, but the ice beneath remained unmelted.

"The road in the picture is real. The road my brother searched for his whole life but could not find, you brought it back for my clan."

He looked at Wei Zhao as if stating a fact.

"So, I'm not here today to avenge my brother."

Wei Zhao remained on edge. He knew the other party was still about to say the most important thing.