THE VOICE was hoarse with age, roughened by the endless vicissitudes of life. But Feng Xiao understood his words—he spoke in Chinese.
The tribe's shaman was old and wise, learned in the ways of the world. Perhaps it was no surprise he spoke the language of the Central Plains. After all, the Western Göktürks also had Jinlian, who even used their idioms and proverbs fluently. She was likely more literate in Chinese than the average commoner from the Central Plains.
The voice came from all directions, but Feng Xiao didn't move, listening carefully to discern his opponent's position. Yet he found he couldn't pinpoint the speaker's location at all—unless there was more than one person, spread out and speaking simultaneously. Did the Black Moon Shaman have accomplices?
Something seemed to have climbed onto his boot and was quickly crawling up his leg.
Feng Xiao didn't look down. He circulated his internal energy, and the thing flew off, but more surged toward him. A moment later they'd grabbed his legs, pinning him to the spot. A strong wind buffeted his face as murderous intent reared its head in the dark.
"Black Moon Shaman! I come as a friend, not an enemy. Why don't we sit down and talk?!"
So Feng Xiao said, but he didn't stop moving either. Legs pinned in place, he twisted his torso aside, narrowly dodging two blasts striking him from the front and back. He slammed both palms downward, and wind from his palms scoured the unknown reptiles. Wherever it touched they fell down dead, their corpses flying through the air and bouncing off Feng Xiao's clothes.
Feng Xiao, fastidious even in these circumstances, curled his lip. He'd be sure to repay the Black Moon Shaman for this.
But the Black Moon Shaman never answered, and the laughter stopped. If not for the words he'd spoken at the beginning, Feng Xiao would have thought him mute. It seemed he had no interest in working together.
Could it be that he was already Prince Ade's ally and an enemy of the Sui dynasty?
The creatures on the ground had been annihilated. Feng Xiao could move his feet again, but he soon realized he'd fallen into another quagmire. At some point, the light from the moon and stars had faded. The interior was an unrelieved black, and he couldn't see a thing.
All was deathly silent, as if the voice before had been naught but a hallucination. As he stared into the dark, a faint light flickered to life. It wavered in midair, blue and green interweaving, like a will-o'-the-wisp.
Luring him closer.
But what choice did he have? This house belonged to the Black Moon Shaman. There might be countless traps and mechanisms here he could deploy against Feng Xiao. Rather than remaining in enemy territory, it was better to seek a way out. Perhaps he could find a spot to break through.
In the dim light, the room appeared only a dozen strides across, but Feng Xiao spent a full fifteen minutes walking. The will-o'-the-wisp never changed, no closer or farther than before. Yet now there was a dense layer of fog around him, and he could no longer tell if he was within the house or without.
At last Feng Xiao understood. From the moment he'd climbed the hill and seen the stone house, he'd entered someone else's illusory array.
But this array was vast, its scale comparable to a mighty army laid out on the battlefield, defenses stretching on for thousands of miles. It exploited all the phenomena of the world to confuse and disorient its victims. From the sun and the moon, the starry skies, the mountains, the rivers and streams, down to each individual flower or blade of grass, even the stones upon the ground—all could be utilized within this array.
The deployer of such an array could enhance it with sound and smell. Just as when they'd spoken earlier: they'd aimed to distract Feng Xiao, pulling his focus into discerning their position and luring him deeper into the trap.
But Feng Xiao hadn't lost his composure. He laughed. "It seems the Black Moon Shaman anticipated my arrival and specially prepared this banquet for me. How much did they purchase you for, I wonder? It must be a hefty sum if you won't even listen to what I can offer before deciding you wish to kill me."
There was no answer. The will-o'-the-wisp swayed in the mist, beckoning those seeking its light, drawing them closer. But if they stepped forward, nine times out of ten it would be into the jaws of death.
There was a noise like the cracking of earth as something pushed out of the ground. Feng Xiao felt a cold touch at his ankle. He looked down and vaguely made out the white bones of a skeletal hand.
Without batting an eye, Feng Xiao raised his other boot and crushed the hand underfoot.
More ghostly hands stretched forth from the ground like demons bursting from the underworld, clamoring to drag the living down to join them. Thousands of withered, bony hands grabbed for Feng Xiao, yet he strode forward, shattering the bones to dust with his internal energy and eliciting the ululating wails of the dead.
Suddenly the sounds of weeping turned into a piercing scream that rushed toward his back. He flung out a palm behind him but met nothing. Ghostly howls rang out from all directions, shrill, mournful, and unbearable.
Feng Xiao frowned, hesitating over whether to cover his ears and save himself from the sounds of those torturous voices.
In that tiny pause, a ghostly figure drifted out of the mist whisper-silent. It was behind Feng Xiao in an instant, its palm thrusting forward, aiming right for the fatal acupoint in his back. Feng Xiao, trapped by the screams, remained motionless—unaware of the enemy about to strike.
***
The royal yurt was filled with song and dance.
Here the khagan convened with his nobles and ministers for important meetings, received foreign guests, and threw banquets. The chaos of the day had been cleared away, and a great bonfire roared merrily in the center, a plump and tender lamb slowly turning over the flames. It was seasoned with various spices, and its tempting aroma filled the air as it dripped grease into the crackling fire, so fragrant the guests could practically taste it.
A Kuchean woman in a flowing skirt danced gracefully around the bonfire, accompanied by the music of harps and pipas. Her sashes fluttered, the trailing satin creating a scene so enchanting as to bewitch any watcher.
Cui Buqu swept a glance over the yurt. Most of the khagan's guests had already arrived. Some were watching the dance, while others whispered into their neighbors' ears. The atmosphere was lively and infectious, soaked in wine.
Fo'er sat across from Cui Buqu, beside the second prince Ade. The two were engaged in a lively discussion; they didn't even glance in his direction. In this relaxed environment, the previously reticent Prince Yixun seemed to take courage, opening his mouth to chat with Cui Buqu. "Does Cui-xiansheng not like the envoy of Ishbara Khagan?"
"We are envoys of the Sui dynasty. This man wishes to kill us and convince the khagan to side with Ishbara. Does the first prince believe I should like him?"
The prince chuckled dryly, as if he, too, felt he'd made a mistake with his conversation starter. He changed the subject. "Where is your deputy envoy tonight?"
"He's feeling unwell, so we left him to rest."
At that, a sly expression stole over the prince's face. He leaned closer and whispered, "Is it true that the two of you have that kind of relationship?"
Cui Buqu feigned ignorance. "I'm afraid I don't understand. The two of us have much in common, so we look after each other when we travel."
The first prince gave him another knowing look. This one seemed to say, All right, no need to explain, I understand. "He's indeed an outstanding individual. But Liegu told me he seems proud and overbearing. In broad daylight, he almost, er, had his way…with you."
Allowing the first prince to make such assumptions was just what Cui Buqu wanted. He smiled wryly. "Thank you for your concern, it's just…" He shook his head and sighed, neither confirmation nor denial, as if he couldn't say all he wanted to—leaving plenty of room for the first prince to imagine a long, complex, and messy relationship.
Sure enough, Yixun's eyes filled with sympathy. "Even I can see you're in poor health; are you unable to satisfy him? I have some virility-enhancing medicine at home. After the banquet, I'll have Liegu run some over to you."
The corners of Cui Buqu's lips twitched. He coughed twice, fighting back the urge to break character as he cupped his hands in gratitude. "Then I shall thank the prince in advance."
The first prince had been softspoken from birth, and due to his secret proclivities, he had few bosom friends in the Western Khaganate. Cui Buqu was an outsider, but that also meant the prince needn't worry about him spreading stories that could damage his reputation. And because they shared the same difficulties, the prince felt an instant connection to him.
They chatted a while, until Cui Buqu noticed the khagan's seat was still empty. "Is the khagan not coming tonight?"
Yixun looked embarrassed. "He'll be here, but a little late. Recently, a new concubine arrived from Kucha."
A cold snort came from beside them; Jinlian, lowering herself into the seat by Cui Buqu, had heard the first prince's words.
"So that's why I haven't seen this beautiful Kuchean dancer before. The new concubine must have brought her along," Jinlian scoffed.
"Not long after you left, Ade acquired several Kuchean women for my father," Yixun explained. "The one he took as his new concubine is even more beautiful than this dancer; Father was drawn to her right away. She's constantly at his side, and Ade is more favored than ever."
Jinlian frowned. "Why didn't I hear this when I came back?"
The prince smiled helplessly. "What could you have done even if you'd known? It's not as if you can go harass her. The new concubine slept in Father's yurt every night until his recent bout of illness. He set up a separate yurt for her after, but he still summons her every evening; she's his great favorite."
Now that there was a new flame, the old one had been abandoned. Jinlian had been beautiful in her youth. She no longer relied on her looks to secure Apa Khagan's devotion, yet when she thought back to those days, her heart knotted with indescribable emotions.
Cui Buqu, too, was lost in thought, though he didn't share her sorrow; he was working out how to turn the topic to the Black Moon Shaman and coax some information from the first prince. It was then that he saw an attendant rush inside and whisper into Prince Ade's ear. The prince slammed his hands down on the table and rose, his face black with rage. "Someone has disturbed the Black Moon Shaman!"
His gaze raked over the room as he roared, "The Black Moon Shaman is the sage of our tribe. Anyone who dares disturb him is the enemy of our Khaganate! Who did this?! Come forward and confess, and I may still plead your case before my father. If you remain silent, you must forgive me for inflicting the harshest tortures upon you when we catch you!"
The festive atmosphere was gone. All the guests exchanged glances, stunned.
Prince Ade's gaze landed on Cui Buqu. "What do you have to say, envoy of the Sui dynasty?"