In the early morning, as the sun just peaked over the horizon, sending a chilling breeze across the army camp, Lixin and his men moved swiftly. The red smoke signal had been their critical confirmation: Chinua was committed to the fight near Zaoging and was far away from this section of the military camp.
Lixin's forces advanced directly into the far end of the camp, where they knew Haitao and Chinua's most trusted remaining men were quartered. The air was thick with the silent tension of a planned ambush.
Lixin's goal was not open battle, but rapid capture, following Prince Dzhambul's orders to seize high-value hostages and cripple the Hmagol leadership structure. This section of the camp, housing the logistics and intelligence assets, was about to become Dzhambul's prison.
Inside the large military tent, sitting at a low table, were Haitao, Och, Chaghatai, Erden, Terbish, and Khenbish, enjoying their morning breakfast. The atmosphere was calm until the door cloth to the tent was pushed aside with tremendous force, and a swarm of soldiers rushed in, surrounding the six men in a silent, menacing ring.
Lixin stepped into the light of the tent opening, a predatory smile on his face. "Sorry to disturb you this early in the morning," he said. "But, Prince Dzhambul would like to speak with the Fourth Princess."
He then feigned a search, pretending to look around the tent as if Chinua might be hiding, though he knew she was a day's hike away in Zaoging City. "Oh, where is Her Highness?" His eyes rolled to the side with a wicked stare.
Haitao and the others stood up in unison, their eyes locked on their own weapons hanging beside them—a silent, futile defiance. Haitao took three steps forward to meet Lixin. His eyes were fierce as he stared at Lixin, knowing that in the military, Lixin held no rank other than being Dzhambul's personal servant.
"Chinua is inside Nue-Li City," Haitao declared, unknowingly clinging to old information.
Lixin's smile widened. He sighed dramatically, then approached Khenbish. "He might not know where Her Highness is, but I bet you do since you are like the worm in her intestines. So, where is the Fourth Princess?"
Khenbish looked at Lixin and spoke with biting coldness. "I do not need to answer your question." He rolled his eyes away from Lixin, an unmistakable snub.
Lixin knew that his rank in the military or in the royal court was not higher than Khenbish's; he had no authority to press for more information.
"Then perhaps you can answer to me," Dzhambul's voice suddenly cut through the tension, sounding from the door.
Dzhambul walked in, clad in full, polished armor. His five captains—Purve, Chai, Lia, Ilhan, and Altan—walked with purpose beside him, forming a wall of silent intimidation as they approached the captured Hmagol men.
Dzhambul turned, his gaze falling squarely on Khenbish. "Where is Chinua?"
Khenbish slowly executed a bow, then looked directly at Dzhambul. "Like Captain Haitao said, Chinua is in Nue-Li City." Khenbish lied smoothly, knowing Chinua had indeed left for Zaoging City days ago and that only he and Khunbish knew the true details—a secret he would die to protect.
At that moment, General Batzorig arrived with his own five captains, sensing the tension and responding to the sudden flurry of Dzhambul's men in the camp. Chinua's main conference tent was now filled with the most important personnel among the Hmagol army ranks.
Dzhambul smiled, a chilling twist of the lips. He turned to Batzorig. "Good that you are here, General. I was going to call you here." He put his hands behind his back and slowly walked to Chinua's empty chair, settling into it with an air of absolute entitlement. He then looked at the people standing inside the tent and motioned for them to sit. "Sit. We are going to have an important discussion."
Batzorig found a seat and sat down, his five captains standing rigidly behind him. Khenbish, Haitao, Och, Chaghatai, Erden, and Terbish also sat down, forming a grim, silent group.
The silence in the intense tent dragged on, broken only by the soft shifting of armor, until Batzorig finally decided to speak.
"Your Highness, what is it that you would like to discuss about?" Batzorig asked, his tone carefully measured.
Dzhambul smiled darkly. "This morning, some of my soldiers found the body of Envoy Li who had come with the Royal Father's decree."
A gasp of shock rippled through the people sitting inside; they were stunned with disbelief.
Batzorig immediately asked, "How did Envoy Li die?"
Lixin stepped forward, enjoying the spectacle. "It seems that he was buried alive, clenching this in his hand." He slowly took out a rolled decree from inside his inner robe.
Dzhambul took control again. "This is why I need Chinua and you here. But since Chinua is not present, I will share this information with you, as this decree was directly for you, General Batzorig."
Lixin looked at Batzorig and commanded: "General Batzorig, step forward for your order."
Batzorig quickly stood up, stepped forward toward Lixin, and knelt on one knee. "Batzorig is here to accept His Majesty's order."
Lixin unrolled the decree and read the manufactured words with theatrical emphasis: "After a long, difficult decision, we have decided to not accept the terms the Eastern General had proposed to us. We declare that Nue-Li City is now a part of Hmagol, and any citizens who do not share the same idea as us shall be beheaded publicly as an example. We order Prince Dzhambul to take over Nue-Li City, and if the Eastern General will not abide by our decision, any act that is out of our decree shall be charged with treason."
Lixin smiled chillingly as he finished reading the royal decree. The document was a complete fabrication, but its power was absolute.
"So, let me ask again, where is Chinua," Dzhambul's firm voice demanded, his eyes boring into the kneeling Batzorig.
Batzorig maintained his composure. "As far as I know, Her Highness is inside Nue-Li City."
"Oh, then why did my informer tell me otherwise," Dzhambul countered smoothly, leaning back in Chinua's stolen chair.
"Your Highness, may I kindly remind Your Highness that before any accusation, Your Highness must have evidence," Haitao interjected, his voice tight with controlled anger.
Dzhambul looked at Haitao, his smile widening into a predatory grin. "Captain, I understand your worry. That's why I came with evidence."
Batzorig immediately stood, attempting to de-escalate the situation and pivot the discussion away from Chinua's whereabouts. He sighed and asked, "What is Your Highness planning to do with the refugees?"
Dzhambul rolled his eyes, utterly dismissive of Batzorig's attempt to appeal to mercy. "Like the royal father had said, anyone who refuses to abide by Hmagol Law will be beheaded as an example."
The tent suddenly turned into a standoff. The captured Hmagol leaders—Haitao, Khenbish, and the rest—knew they were trapped. Their minds raced, the tension palpable as they clashed with Dzhambul's cruel point of view. They were not simply prisoners; they were hostages in a royal coup. They were unable to send any message to Chinua or the others.
Just when they thought all hope was lost, Muunokhoi's happily loud voice boomed through the tent entrance.
"The hot pot stew beef is ready!" He stepped inside the tent with a smile on his face, only to find it quickly fade when he came face to face with the awkward, menacing situation unfolding inside the conference tent. He tried to backtrack, his voice uncertain. "The beef stew is ready."
"Don't you know how to knock before entering!" Timicin's angry voice cut through the air. Before Dzhambul's men could move to seize Muunokhoi, Timicin was quicker. He grabbed Muunokhoi's arms and violently dragged him out of the tent, slamming the cloth door shut behind them.
Leaning closer to Muunokhoi, his voice a desperate, urgent whisper, Timicin hissed, "Quickly, go tell Khunbish! Prince Dzhambul is looking for Chinua!"
"Huh?" Muunokhoi held the pot of stew tightly in his hand, his mind still on breakfast.
"He is here looking for trouble! He is accusing Chinua of treason."
"Treason!" Muunokhoi gasped. "How?"
"Stop asking, and listen!" Timicin said, his eyes scanning the surrounding guards. "Prince Dzhambul is here to imprison us, preventing us from helping Chinua! You go and tell them to be prepared." He shoved Muunokhoi forward towards the outer soldiers. He then pointed sharply at Muunokhoi and shouted for the benefit of the guards inside the tent. "There is no more next time! If you dare to barge into the door without manners again, you will be subject to military punishment! Get out of here!"
Muunokhoi, though terrified, understood the urgency and scrambled away, clutching the hot pot stew, his mission now shifted from serving breakfast to saving Chinua.
Still holding the pot of beef stew tightly in his hand, Muunokhoi ran through the army camp, heading straight towards the front gate of Nue-Li City.
Observing the situation from the city wall rampart, Od looked down and noticed Muunokhoi racing toward them at speed, clutching the pot. He turned to Siqi, one of the young soldiers standing with him. "Hey kiddo, look at Muunokhoi," he pointed down. "He is running towards us like something is chasing him."
The three young soldiers, Siqi, Nachin, and Kair, who stood with Od on the rampart, looked down and began giggling at the sight of Muunokhoi's frantic rush.
"I think that pot in his hand is definitely for me," Od said with a smile. He quickly patted Siqi's shoulder. "Well, kid, I'm going to leave my duty to you for a moment, as I am going to enjoy that pot of food."
"Yes, sir," Siqi said with a smile.
"Hehe... that's a good soldier," Od replied, making his way down the stairs. He reached the gate just in time as Muunokhoi approached.
"Where is Khunbish?" Muunokhoi asked urgently, his expression pale with panic.
"Why? Is this pot for him and not for me?" Od asked, still focused on the breakfast.
Muunokhoi shoved the pot of stew into Od's hands. "You can have it all, but where is Khunbish?"
Od looked at Muunokhoi's worried expression and the abandoned pot of stew. "Khunbish and Zhi are with the Mayor Dae and the new arrival refugees. Why? What's wrong?"
Muunokhoi didn't answer. He grabbed the horse's lead rope from a nearby soldier's hand, quickly mounted the horse, and rushed toward the Death Ground.
"Hey!" Od yelled after Muunokhoi. "What's going on?"
"If you see Prince Dzhambul approaching, close the gate!" Muunokhoi yelled back, and with a single strike on the horse's buttocks, the animal rushed toward the far left of Nue-Li City.
Od turned back, looking at the stew pot in his hand in confusion. He didn't understand why Muunokhoi would give him such an extreme order, as they were in the same army and fighting for the same cause.
Then, he looked toward the gate and saw something that froze his blood: lines of Northern military infantry approaching from the first row of tents, their weapons ready, advancing in a formation preparing for war. Right then, he understood why Muunokhoi had given such a desperate order.
He dropped the stew pot and yelled urgently at the ten nearby soldiers, "Quickly, close the gate!"
The ten soldiers looked at each other in confusion, unable to process the internal threat.
"Now!" Od shouted, rushing up the stairs to the rampart. He heard the massive gate slam shut loudly behind him. He rushed to Siqi and the others.
"Sir Od," Siqi said, pointing. "The Northern soldiers, they are in position to attack. But why?"
Od's face went numb and pale. He peered over the rampart and saw Dzhambul and Lixin slowly walk out from the first line of Northern soldiers, confirming the coup.
Looking at the closed gate of Nue-Li City, Dzhambul stood at the head of his powerful, fresh army, a triumphant, cruel smile on his face. He watched the soldiers on the city wall rampart stood in position, their forms clearly visible. The rapid closing of the gate was exactly the reaction he had predicted.
The message was received: the news of him coming for Chinua had been brought back to her army, and they were preparing to prevent him from entering Nue-Li City. He smiled, knowing in his heart that this action—the defiance of the Royal Decree and the closure of the city gates—was yet another crime to add to Chinua's treason charge. The Hmagol forces were sealing their own fate.