There was only one choice left for him.
——Deification!
...
At the source of the Onon River, the heart of the steppe.
The cold northern wind swept over the pale yellow sea of grass, lifting fine flecks of snow.
Numerous banners—wolf heads, eagle feathers, various tribal totems—fluttered wildly in the wind, like a restless, growling herd.
Chieftains and their elite warriors from dozens of tribes all over the steppe gathered here like rivers converging into the sea.
Between them were old blood feuds or fresh grievances.
But today, everyone's gaze was fixed on the largest and most majestic white tent with golden edges perched on a gentle slope.
The reason was equally simple.
One man had conquered them!
Inside the tent, the atmosphere was hot and heavy.
Torches made of animal fat illuminated the hanging weapons and furs, also casting light on each frost-etched face, now intently focused.
There were no prolonged debates, no complex rituals.
