Wherever the wind brushed past, waves of grass rolled like the ocean waves, carrying the sweet and musky scent of grass and earth, along with a primal and soul-stirring force.
At the heart of this emerald sea stood a massive encampment far surpassing ordinary tribes in scale.
The white tents were scattered like mushrooms after the rain, yet concealed some kind of strict order.
At the very center was a majestic golden-roofed tent, with the su-ru-tit on its crest pointing to the sky, reflecting a cold, hard glimmer in the sunlight.
This was Genghis Khan's "ordos," the very seat of power on the grasslands.
Outside the tent, there were no carved beams, painted rafters, or winding corridors like in the palaces of the Central Plains, only endless openness and vastness.
Yet this vastness itself was a kind of silent majesty.
