We have fought to the Arctic Circle, and you want me to inherit the throne?

Chapter 1144 Yellow-headed Uyghurs

Li Che turned his head, his gaze piercing through the deepening twilight, as if he could already see the Uyghur flags fluttering in that oasis.

"Sir, I have dealt with the Mohe, Shiwei, Khitan and even more distant tribes for many years outside the Great Wall."

Li Che's tone calmed down: "The more I come into contact with these tribes, the more I understand one thing."

"For many of them, they have long been accustomed to relying on the powerful and seizing benefits in the cracks."

"No amount of benevolence, morality, or glorious teachings can be as direct and effective as swords and fists."

“They subconsciously believe in the law of the jungle, in immediate fear and self-interest.”

Li Che paused for a moment, then continued, "If you try to be friendly to them and reason with them, they will only think you are weak and easy to bully. Then they will wait for the right price and think about how to squeeze more benefits out of you. They might even turn around and sell your secrets to Tibet."

"The only way is to strike first, to hurt them, to frighten them, and to make them clearly realize who they can't afford to mess with!"

"Only by crushing their pitiful hopes will they lower their heads and sit down obediently to listen to you."

Upon hearing Li Che's words, Xu Jiezi remained silent.

He saw a different Li Che for the first time.

Li Che, the ruler of Daqing, was gentle and kind, treating the people with kindness and compassion. He seemed to be a rare and benevolent ruler.

But once he left Daqing, he seemed to become a different person.

Although Xu Jiezi was somewhat unaccustomed to it, he had to admit that although these words were harsh, they revealed the survival rules of these tribes.

Appeasement often requires sufficient deterrence.

Otherwise, it would be like asking a tiger for its skin, only to bring shame upon oneself.

"so."

Li Che's gaze suddenly sharpened.

He glanced at the few trusted generals who had gathered around him and said slowly, "There's no need to try to win them over. I don't have the patience to deal with such two-faced scoundrels!"

"Attack! While the main force of the Tibetans is tied up in Chuima City by Wang Sanchun and has no time to deal with the Yellow-Headed Uyghurs, attack them for me!"

"We must march straight for their royal camp!"

"I don't care which pasture their Khan is feasting in; find him, crush his army, and storm his lair!"

Li Che reined in his horse, and Hei Feng paced restlessly in place:

"I will capture their Khan and make him kneel before my horse!"

"Only by breaking their spines and making them feel pain to the bone will they understand who they should listen to from now on!"

"Only when that time comes will the so-called wooing have any meaning!"

"Luo Yueniang, Yu Daliang!"

"Your subordinate is here!" The two men rode forward and solemnly accepted the order.

"You two will each lead five thousand elite cavalry as the left and right vanguards. Set off immediately!"

"At top speed, clear out any scattered scouts and small groups of cavalry along the way and locate the Uyghur royal camp."

"But no unauthorized attack is allowed; wait for the main force to converge!"

"Here!"

Needless to say, the two men tossed their cloaks aside and left to carry out their orders.

Li Che continued, "I will personally lead the remaining main force of infantry and cavalry, closely following the vanguard, maintaining our marching speed, and preparing for a strong attack on the enemy."

"Gentlemen," Li Che said, looking around at his generals, "remember, this battle must be swift and ruthless; we must display the might of the Qing Army!"

"Let these opportunists from the Western Regions see clearly that their former masters, Tibet, cannot protect them! I am the one destined to rule this land!"

"After this battle, I will ensure that there is only one voice in Ganzhou!"

"Yes, Your Majesty!" the generals roared in response, their eyes blazing with fighting spirit.

The emperor's decision was swift and decisive, even somewhat brutal, but it suited everyone's temperament perfectly.

Forget about the Uyghurs, they're just two-faced cowards, they should be cut down!

Military orders are like fire; they must be passed down swiftly.

The vanguard cavalry, like two arrows released from a bow, silently disappeared into the darkness, leaving only the rapid sound of their departing hooves.

Li Che took a deep breath of the dry air, his gaze resolute.

If such a war breaks out, countless ordinary Uyghurs will die.

He may feel pity, but when it comes to taking drastic measures, he will never hesitate, especially against those who have a history of misconduct and are opportunistic.

He wanted to pave the way for future campaigns in the Western Regions and set a clear example for all the forces that were still observing.

The Yellow-headed Uyghur was the first one.

. . . . . .

Deep within the oasis of Ganzhou lies the Uyghur royal tent.

The night was deep, and the tent was filled with the smells of wine, mutton, and luxurious warmth.

Uyghur Khan Yaoluoge slept restlessly on the couch covered with thick brocade and animal hides.

In recent days, the battle reports faintly coming from the east and the urging orders from the Tibetan Grand Master have cast a shadow over his heart.

The emperor of Daqing actually led the army in person!

When Tibet asked him to send troops to help, he readily agreed.

But while I agreed, there was no way I would actually go.

He would only rush over with his army if a winner emerged from the two sides.

There's no other way; this is the survival rule of small tribes.

Thinking of this, Yao Luoge felt a little relieved and fell into a deep sleep.

He had a nightmare.

In his dream, he saw countless cavalrymen he had never seen before, their bodies covered in cold, hard black armor, like ghosts emerging from hell, trampling through his camp.

Flames burned over his beloved royal tent, and his warriors fell like weeds before the terrifying iron hooves and a short spear that made a thunderous roar.

His wives and concubines were crying out, his children were screaming, and there was the knight, perched high on his magnificent warhorse, coldly looking down at him...

"Do not--"

Yao Luoge suddenly woke up from his nightmare, his forehead covered in cold sweat, his heart pounding like a drum.

The tent was dimly lit and completely silent.

It seems... it was just a dream?

Just as he was about to breathe a sigh of relief, a strange and pungent smell entered his nostrils.

It wasn't the familiar incense from inside the tent, but rather the smell of burning, and... the stench of blood?

He turned his head in alarm and looked toward the bedside.

A young woman was kneeling there; she was a Qing woman he had abducted from a passing caravan a few days earlier, and he had kept her in his tent because of her beautiful appearance.

At this moment, the woman raised her head, her face devoid of its usual numbness and hatred, replaced by a look of terror that seemed to burst from her eyes.

She stared intently at the direction behind the Khan, her lips trembling, but she couldn't utter a sound.

Not a dream!

Yao Luoge's blood froze instantly, gripped by immense fear.

An enemy attack?! How could that be!

This is the core camp where his royal tent is located, and it is guarded by layers of tribal warriors!

The Tibetans? No, the Tibetans are allies now, at least on the surface.

Could it be Khotan in the west? Or some ignorant little tribe in the north?

In a split second, the instinct for survival overwhelmed everything.

He rolled over and tumbled off the soft couch onto the floor.

Ignoring the pain from the fall, he lunged at the ornate scimitar hanging from the tent post, using both hands and feet.

The instant his fingers touched the hilt of the knife.

"boom!!!"

With a loud crash, the curtain made of fine felt and brocade, along with its supporting wooden frame, was violently slammed open from the outside by an irresistible force.

Wood chips flew everywhere, and the cold wind, carrying the smell of gunpowder and blood, rushed in!

A warhorse clad entirely in dark metallic armor reared up, its large iron hooves slamming heavily onto the torn remnants of the curtain.

On horseback, a knight sat as steady as a mountain.

The knight was covered in armor with cold, hard lines, the joints were tightly riveted, and the helmet had a face shield, only revealing his eyes.

Those eyes were calmly and coldly fixed on Yao Luoge, who was half-lying on the ground.

There was no shouting, no cursing, and not even any unnecessary movements.

Just looking at it like that, it was like a falcon looking down at a panicked rabbit under its talons.

The knight held a strangely shaped short-handled weapon in his hand, from which a wisp of smoke still lingered.

Behind him were broken tent flaps, through which one could see more cavalrymen in the same attire, silent as iron, and flickering flames in the distance.

Time seemed to freeze at that moment.

Yao Luoge remained in that disheveled position, his fingers stiffly gripping the hilt of the knife, but he was no longer able to pull it out.

He looked up at the horse, the rider, and those eyes.

The nightmare's imagery overlapped with reality at this moment, even clearer, colder, and more despairing than the dream itself.

This is not a Tibetan, nor any known force in the Western Regions.

This is... the Qing Army?

How could they be here? How could they appear before his royal tent so silently?!

What about Gar Tongtsen's 300,000-strong army? What about the surrounding tribes?

Countless questions and fears exploded in his mind, leaving his thoughts blank.

The Qing woman inside the tent finally let out a short gasp, then covered her mouth tightly and curled up in a corner, trembling.

The knight's gaze lingered on Yao Luoge for a moment, seemingly confirming his identity.

Then, he slowly raised one hand and made a simple gesture behind him.

Two heavily armored infantrymen dressed similarly immediately stepped out from behind the knight's horse and headed straight for Yaoluoge.

One man easily kicked away the curved knife beside him, while another reached out and lifted him off the ground like a chick.

“You…you are…” Yao Luoge finally found his voice.

No one answered him.

The leading knight slowly lowered his hand that was holding the firearm, looked down at him again, and

The knight immediately turned his horse around and stopped looking at him.

Horses slowly retreated, their hooves treading on the brocade inside the tent. More Qing soldiers poured in and began to quickly take control of the tent.

Yao Luoge was held hostage by two soldiers and dragged unsteadily out of the tent.

He glanced back one last time at the golden-topped royal tent that represented his authority.

The tent roof was now torn open, letting in the cold wind and trampling and soiling the precious fabrics.

He was then forcibly dragged away by the soldiers.

Outside the tent, the sky was just before dawn.

The camp had been reduced to a sea of ​​fire.

Countless Qing army soldiers he had never seen before flooded everywhere like a black tide.

His warriors were slit in their sleep, and some who rushed into battle fell in droves under the terrifying storm of metal.

Many more people scattered in terror and fled, only to be mercilessly shot down by the Qing army cavalry patrolling the perimeter.

It’s over.

Yao Luoge's legs went weak; if the soldiers hadn't been supporting him, he would have collapsed into a limp mess.

He remained in that position as the soldiers dragged him to Li Che like a dead dog.