Dozens of Mongol cavalry rode ahead, scouting the route and clearing the path for Chen Rong's steel carriage.
The terrain, though harsh and barren, proved more stable than expected.
The ground consisted mostly of gravel and compacted earth rather than loose sand, allowing the horses and the off-road vehicle to proceed steadily.
Even so, Chen Rong remained vigilant.
He sat in the driver's seat throughout the journey, hands resting lightly on the steering wheel, ready to start the engine at a moment's notice.
Though Liu Zhonglu had assured him the route was safe, Chen Rong understood too well how unforgiving deserts could be.
A single mistake—one hidden patch of loose sand, one sudden collapse of ground—and the vehicle might be lost forever.
Fortunately, no such disaster occurred.
After several days, they successfully crossed the Gobi and entered more habitable terrain.
During these months of travel, Chen Rong's small agricultural experiments had begun to show results.
Some of the seedlings he had planted earlier had sprouted. Not all survived.
Roughly half withered and died—likely due to the harsh climate, poor soil, or imperfect care. Even with modern knowledge, growing crops in such conditions was far from easy.
Still, some endured.
Four pepper seedlings had survived.
Two cucumber plants struggled but remained alive.
Three tomato seedlings grew slowly, their fragile stems trembling in the wind.
Most encouraging of all, four watermelon seedlings had taken root.
Chen Rong treated these plants with meticulous care.
During the day, he placed them near the windshield, allowing them to absorb as much sunlight as possible. He watered them carefully, conserving every drop.
At night, he brought them inside the vehicle, protecting them from the desert's biting cold.
The temperature difference between day and night in these regions was extreme.
The sun scorched the land during the day, yet after sunset, the cold crept in with surprising intensity.
Without protection, the delicate seedlings would not survive.
Chen Rong also preserved the remaining seeds carefully, knowing that even a single successful crop could prove invaluable.
After leaving the desert behind, the caravan gradually entered the territory of Khwarezm.
What Chen Rong witnessed there left a deep impression on him.
The land resembled a vision of hell.
For miles, the earth lay barren and silent.
Villages stood abandoned, their walls broken and roofs collapsed.
Smoke-blackened ruins marked the remains of once-thriving towns.
In some places, bodies lay unburied, scattered across fields and roads.
The stench of death lingered in the air.
Here and there, bones bleached white under the sun. Wolves prowled the outskirts of ruined settlements, while vultures circled overhead.
The devastation was total.
Along the road, Chen Rong occasionally saw Mongol detachments escorting prisoners—long lines of exhausted civilians driven forward under guard.
At other times, he witnessed scenes of slaughter. Villagers fleeing across open ground, soldiers pursuing them without mercy.
The pattern was clear.
Elderly men, women, and children were rarely spared.
Adult males were often killed outright.
Only skilled craftsmen—blacksmiths, masons, and artisans—were selected and taken away. Young women were seized as captives.
The rest were left behind as corpses.
Even the cities they passed through offered no relief.
Some gates stood open, unmanned. Within, the streets were silent.
Corpses lay inside houses, left where they had fallen. Animals roamed freely, feeding on the dead.
The smell alone forced the caravan to move quickly through such places.
Master Changchun, Qiu Chuji, witnessed these scenes with deep sorrow.
Several times, he attempted to intervene when Mongol soldiers prepared to kill civilians.
Occasionally, his status as an honored guest of Genghis Khan allowed him to spare a handful of lives.
But such mercy was fleeting.
Once he departed, the soldiers often resumed their actions.
One evening, as the caravan camped in a desolate wilderness within Khwarezm, Master Changchun approached Liu Zhonglu.
The old Daoist's face looked weary, his expression heavy with grief.
"General Liu," he said quietly, "such slaughter… surely brings harm to Heaven's virtue."
"Master Changchun, this is the military order of the Great Khan.
If they surrender to Mongolia, there will be no massacre. If they refuse, then when the city falls, none will be spared," Liu Zhonglu said quietly.
This was a rule established by Genghis Khan.
Whenever the Mongol army approached a city, envoys were first sent to demand surrender. If the city opened its gates, the inhabitants would be spared slaughter.
If they resisted, however, the consequences were merciless.
Once the walls were breached, nearly everyone would be killed.
Only young women and skilled craftsmen were typically spared, taken as captives to serve the Mongol army. Even in surrender, the people could not escape suffering.
The soldiers would plunder the city, and many of the able-bodied men would be forced into service, driven ahead of the army as expendable troops in future sieges.
Such methods were brutal, yet from the Mongol perspective, they were necessary.
This was not a campaign near their homeland, but a distant western expedition. Without terror to suppress resistance, the rear would never remain stable.
"General Liu," Master Changchun said, his voice heavy, "can you not see how many have died? Along our journey, we have found ten households and nine deserted.
Countless cities have become empty shells."
His gaze drifted across the barren landscape. The silence of the abandoned villages seemed to press upon them like a weight.
"Master, wherever the Mongol army has passed, this is the result," Liu Zhonglu replied. "The Central Plains have fared somewhat better."
He spoke with a complicated tone.
In the territories once ruled by the Jin Dynasty, many Han families had already submitted to Mongol authority.
Several local princes had surrendered, and under Mongol administration, life was temporarily stable.
Yet Khwarezm lay far to the west, beyond effective governance. There, resistance was fierce, and the Mongols responded with greater brutality.
Chen Rong listened in silence.
He knew that Liu Zhonglu's words described only the present moment.
History had already shown him what lay ahead.
The Mongols would one day turn their attention southward, and when they did, the lands of the Han people would face devastation no less terrible than Khwarezm.
The Mongol army—the so-called "Scourge of Heaven"—would not spare civilization simply because it was ancient or refined.
If nothing changed, today's Khwarezm would become tomorrow's Central Plains.
Chen Rong's hands tightened within his sleeves. The thought lingered in his mind like a shadow.
It must change. Something must change.
At that moment, Master Changchun sighed softly.
"I must meet the Great Khan and persuade him to cease the killing."
Though his tone was calm, there was firm resolve behind his words.
Along the journey, the Daoist master had witnessed too much suffering. Entire cities emptied, families scattered, and fields left untended.
Each sight had weighed heavily upon him, until silence was no longer possible.
Even if it meant risking his own life, he intended to speak.
Liu Zhonglu shook his head slightly. Asking Genghis Khan to stop killing seemed almost impossible.
The Mongol Empire had risen through conquest. Fear and destruction were the tools that maintained their vast territories.
Moreover, the western expedition force was not large. Fewer than two hundred thousand troops had crossed into Khwarezm.
Yet many of Khwarezm's cities held populations greater than the Mongol army itself. If resistance erupted behind them, the expedition could collapse.
Genghis Khan had already planned to divide Khwarezm, Western Liao, and other conquered western lands among his sons.
His third son, Ögedei, was designated as the future Great Khan.
The youngest son, Tolui, would guard the Mongol heartland. Meanwhile, the lands of Khwarezm were to be divided primarily between Jochi and Chagatai.
To control such vast territories with limited manpower, the Mongols relied on terror to suppress rebellion.
There were even plans to reduce the population of Khwarezm and relocate Mongol settlers to secure the region.
"Master Changchun, please think carefully," Liu Zhonglu said, concern evident in his voice.
He genuinely feared that if the Daoist angered the Great Khan, the consequences would be dire.
"The poor Daoist has made his decision," Master Changchun replied calmly. "I will persuade the Great Khan to reduce the killing."
Liu Zhonglu sighed helplessly. There was no changing the Daoist's mind.
He turned and walked away, the weight of uncertainty heavy on his shoulders.
It was precisely what he had witnessed along the road—ruined cities, scattered bones, silent villages—that strengthened Master Changchun's resolve.
Without this journey westward, the killing might have continued even more relentlessly.
That night, the camp was unusually quiet. No one spoke much. Each man returned to his tent, carrying his own thoughts into the cold darkness.
The journey continued.
After another month and a half, the landscape began to change.
The plains gradually gave way to towering snow-covered mountains.
The air grew thin and bitterly cold. Frost gathered along the edges of tents, and the horses exhaled white mist into the freezing wind.
They had reached the borderlands of Khwarezm.
"Mr. Chen," Liu Zhonglu said, pointing ahead, "the Great Khan's Western Expedition camp lies before us. We have traveled more than five months. At last, we have arrived."
Chen Rong lifted his gaze.
Across the vast plain, countless dark tents stretched toward the horizon like waves of shadow.
Smoke rose from scattered fires, and banners fluttered in the cold wind. The scale of the encampment was astonishing, resembling a moving city built upon the steppe.
Even as he watched, a group of Mongol cavalry rode swiftly from the camp.
Their horses moved like flowing shadows across the snow-covered ground.
They had come to greet the western-bound party.
Chen Rong narrowed his eyes slightly.
After months of travel and countless scenes of devastation, he was finally about to meet the man who had reshaped the world through conquest.
The Great Khan.