The tent assigned to Chen Rong stood slightly apart from the others, its black felt walls thick against the cold mountain winds.
From the outside, it did not appear unusual, but once he stepped inside, he realized the space was surprisingly large—nearly five meters across, with enough room for several people to move comfortably.
A low wooden bed occupied one side of the tent, layered with thick felt blankets.
In the center stood a sturdy iron stove, its chimney extending through the top of the tent, allowing smoke to escape.
A faint warmth lingered inside, far more comfortable than the biting cold outside.
The ground was covered with several layers of Mongolian felt, forming a soft carpet.
There were no chairs or stools.
Like most nomadic dwellings, seating meant either sitting cross-legged on the ground or on the low bed itself.
On a wooden table near the stove, roasted mutton and beef had already been prepared. Beside them sat a clay jug filled with fresh kumiss, along with several simple wooden cups.
Chen Rong first returned to the vehicle and carefully carried inside the seedlings he had protected throughout the journey—pepper, cucumber, tomato, and watermelon sprouts.
He placed them along the warmer side of the tent, ensuring they would not freeze in the night air.
Only after finishing this task did he finally sit down, wiping sweat from his forehead.
For the next two hours, Chen Rong remained inside the tent, neither wandering about nor attempting to explore the camp.
Instead, he quietly ate the roasted meat while gathering his thoughts.
Then he poured himself a cup of kumiss.
The sharp, sour smell drifted upward immediately.
Chen Rong hesitated for a moment before drinking.
The taste was still unpleasant—fermented mare's milk had a sharp acidity that lingered on the tongue—but he forced himself to drink another cup.
He remembered a historical anecdote clearly.
After the Mongols' later western campaigns, envoys from conquered western lands had come to meet the Mongol ruler.
During the audience, the Khan personally offered them kumiss, telling them that this drink was part of Mongol tradition.
The envoy forced himself to drink.
The Khan was pleased—and later appointed him as a Mongol tax agent in the Rus lands.
That envoy would later become the ancestor of the Grand Princes who eventually overthrew Mongol rule and founded the Russian state.
Whether the story was entirely accurate or not, Chen Rong understood one thing clearly: refusing kumiss during a Mongol audience would be unwise.
So he forced himself to drink until he gradually adapted to the taste.
If Genghis Khan offered him a drink later, he did not want to appear hesitant.
Time passed slowly.
The fire crackled softly in the stove, and faint voices drifted from outside as soldiers moved through the camp. The sky beyond the tent gradually darkened, and the temperature dropped further.
After more than two hours, footsteps approached.
A Mongol messenger entered the tent and bowed slightly.
"Mr. Chen, the Great Khan summons you."
Chen Rong rose immediately.
He adjusted his clothing, straightened his posture, and stepped outside.
The night air struck his face with icy sharpness.
He climbed into the driver's seat, started the vehicle carefully, and placed it into first gear.
The engine rumbled quietly as he followed the messenger toward the center of the Mongol camp.
Soon, the largest tent came into view.
It stood illuminated by torches, its golden felt walls glowing in the darkness. Guards surrounded the area in tight formation, their armor reflecting flickering firelight.
The entire camp covered dozens of meters, heavily guarded.
"Mr. Chen," the messenger said, approaching the vehicle, "the Great Khan's tent is ahead."
"I understand," Chen Rong replied.
He slowly drove forward and stopped in the open space before the golden tent.
Even before he stepped out, he sensed countless eyes fixed upon him.
Inside the tent, Mongol generals and Han advisors had already gathered. Many leaned forward, peering through the entrance at the strange steel vehicle.
"So… there is truly no horse pulling it…"
"It moves on its own…"
"Could he truly have come from a divine dwelling?"
A Han official frowned.
"There are many charlatans in the Central Plains.
Some claim that a few days in the mountains equal a thousand years in the mortal world. Such tales are common. How can this be believed?"
"But the steel carriage truly moves without horses," another muttered.
Liu Zhonglu stood nearby, his expression calm but firm.
"Hearing is false. Seeing is believing. You have all seen it now—do you still doubt?"
Earlier that day, several generals had questioned him for bringing a possible fraud before the Great Khan. Now, he was determined to defend his decision.
One Mongol general spoke skeptically.
"You said the eyes of this steel beast shine like daylight. Why do I not see it?"
Chen Rong heard the comment clearly.
Without hesitation, he reached forward and switched on the high beams.
Two blinding beams of white light burst forward.
The entire tent entrance flooded with brilliance—far brighter than torches or firelight.
The sudden glare forced several generals to shield their eyes. Some even stepped back involuntarily.
The light pierced deep into the tent, illuminating everything like midday.
Even the figure seated at the highest position—wearing a golden robe—was briefly blinded.
"Protect the Great Khan!" someone shouted.
Guards immediately surged forward, forming a protective barrier.
Chen Rong almost laughed.
You asked for proof—now you panic?
He calmly switched off the headlights.
Darkness returned instantly, leaving only the flickering torchlight.
The guards remained tense, but the immediate alarm subsided.
Chen Rong stepped out of the vehicle.
He walked forward slowly, then bowed respectfully.
"This humble man, Chen Rong of the Han people, greets the Great Khan."
A deep, powerful voice answered.
Genghis Khan laughed.
"I heard from Liu Zhonglu that a Han man had mistakenly entered the dwelling of the gods and wished to see me. Many of my generals said it was merely trickery.
They advised me not to believe such things."
His gaze rested steadily on Chen Rong.
"But I trust Liu Zhonglu. And I was curious."
He gestured toward the vehicle.
"Today I have seen it myself. This steel carriage moves without horses. Its eyes shine brighter than daylight.
When its light struck me, I could scarcely open my eyes."
He nodded slightly.
"You did not deceive me."
Chen Rong stepped forward respectfully.
"I disturbed the Great Khan. But I heard some doubt my claims, so I displayed the light to prove my sincerity. I hope the Great Khan will forgive my boldness."
Genghis Khan studied him carefully.
"I hear you have been learning Mongolian these past months."
"Yes," Chen Rong replied. "My learning is shallow. If I speak poorly, I hope the Great Khan will forgive me."
Genghis Khan nodded.
"It is already impressive. Few foreigners trouble themselves to learn our tongue so quickly."
He gestured toward the tent interior.
"Come inside. Tell me about yourself. I am curious about this dwelling of the gods you entered."
After living there for three years, more than a thousand years had passed in the outside world. Genghis Khan could not help but feel curious about the so-called dwelling of this deity—what kind of place it was, and what sort of god might reside there.
Although the Mongols followed shamanistic traditions, they had never rejected other beliefs or doctrines. The steppe empire was vast, and with its expansion came many faiths and customs.
Among the Mongols were Daoists, Buddhists, Muslims who followed Islam, and even Nestorian Christians.
Such diversity was not uncommon within the Great Khan's domains, and religious tolerance had long been one of the Mongols' practical policies.
Thus, even Genghis Khan wondered what kind of divine residence Chen Rong had mistakenly entered, and which deity might have been involved.
His gaze shifted briefly to the vehicle.
"Later, I will also examine your steel carriage more closely."
Chen Rong nodded.
"Thank you, Great Khan."
As he stepped into the golden tent, Chen Rong felt the weight of dozens of eyes upon him.