Chapter 132: The First Battle

"Khan, the Turkic vanguard is just ahead, roughly ten thousand men." The report from his subordinate jolted Mulle from his deep contemplation atop his horse.

Mulle shuddered at the news. Suppressing the lingering unease he felt toward these tribes—descendants of those who had once assisted the Turkic people in hunting down his own Rouran ancestors across the grasslands—he adopted a rugged, hardened expression and roared at the marching army: "Faster! Prepare for battle. If anyone dares to retreat once the fighting starts, don't blame me for turning heartless."

"Rest assured, Great Khan. Once we clash with the Turks, you need only wait for news of our victory," a barbarian leader with braided hair boasted.

To maintain control over the numerous barbarian tribes, Li Wenyuan had issued an official decree, conferring the title of Dingtu Khan upon Silülin Mulle, tasking him with governing the tribes unwilling to submit to the central authority. Simultaneously, notices were posted throughout Gaochang, recruiting barbarians who resisted the constraints of Western Region laws into a "Naturalized Army," with the promise that after the Turks were defeated, land would be allotted to them based on their military merits.

"They want a share of the spoils without wanting to die? Are they delusional? Tell them: if they want to establish their own kingdoms, they must pay for it with military achievements." Before the war, Zhang Juntai, having been granted full authority over Western Front affairs by Li Wenyuan, had spoken these words to the barbarian leaders without a hint of hesitation.

Thus, Zhang Juntai assembled an army of twenty thousand barbarians and placed them under the command of Mulle, the Rouran leader who had lived in anonymity for nearly a century under Turkic oppression. As Mulle watched his army prepare for battle, he recalled what Zhang Juntai had said during their audience: "These barbarians share a blood feud with your people and represent a fundamental conflict of interest with me. We can certainly reach an alliance here. You may use these soldiers as you please—preferably, leave them all on the battlefield. In other words, we can accept your defeat, but we cannot accept the defeat of our Naturalized Army."

Hearing this, even in the sweltering heat of the Western Regions, Mulle could not help but shiver. There were hundreds of thousands of Turks entrenched in the Western Regions, with nearly a million more in their service. Even if only thirty percent were defiant, that still represented hundreds of thousands of lives.

From Zhang Juntai’s words, Mulle vaguely sensed Li Wenyuan’s true intent. Unlike the past dynasties of the Central Plains, whose expeditions against nomadic regimes were largely punitive, Li Wenyuan’s war was aimed at seizing land, cattle, and sheep. To stabilize the conquered territories as quickly as possible, he had even devised a strategy to consume unstable populations through the crucible of war. At this thought, Mulle felt as if a sharp blade had descended, staining the entire grassland blood-red; he felt as though the scent of carnage already filled his nostrils.

Yet, enticed by Zhang Juntai’s promise of equal status for the Rouran and the Han people after the war—a reward specifically for Mulle—and thinking of his dwindling kin and their increasingly dire living conditions, Mulle agreed without hesitation. Now, he led the hastily assembled Naturalized Army into the fray.

Mulle stroked the neck of the warhorse Zhang Juntai had gifted him as it snorted rhythmically, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the direction from which the Turks approached. Slowly, figures wearing barbarian caps appeared on the horizon, accompanied by the faint sight of nomadic banners.

Mulle drew his saber and held it vertically before his eyes. This blade had been a tribute from the Emperor of Northern Zhou back when the Rouran regime still stood; it was forged by the finest craftsmen of the Central Plains using star-iron, making it incomparably hard, rust-resistant, and lethally sharp.

As the Turkic auxiliary force ahead seemed to notice the Naturalized Army, Mulle swung his blade: "Warriors, charge!"

The twenty thousand cavalrymen charged straight toward the ten thousand Turkic auxiliaries, who were scrambling to form ranks. While these men lacked the rigorous training of Li Wenyuan’s own troops—which allowed for precise, high-efficiency slaughter—they were born on horseback. The barbarians beyond the border were inherently fierce and natural-born fighters.

The two armies soon collided in a chaotic melee. Mulle and his personal guard skirted the edges of the fray, both urging his men to fight and ensuring they could escape should the battle turn against them. In the era of cold steel, a soldier’s expected lifespan on the battlefield was less than a minute, though as a battle dragged on, this time could stretch slightly. While rigorous training could effectively extend it, that was clearly not the case here.

On the battlefield, the two sides were locked in a bloody struggle. Men were constantly unhorsed, and blood and severed limbs flew through the air, landing on the bodies of the indifferent. An hour and a half later, Mulle shot the last Turkic auxiliary through the heart, marking the total annihilation of the vanguard.

While this battle resulted in the complete destruction of the ten thousand Turkic auxiliaries, Mulle’s Naturalized Army had suffered nearly four thousand dead, with countless more wounded. Though Li Wenyuan would find such a casualty ratio unacceptable, in the context of the current campaign, it was a victory worth reporting; had they fought an equal number of troops and achieved these results, it would have been a grand triumph.

Directing the survivors to clear the battlefield, burn the corpses, and bury the ashes, Mulle returned to Zhang Juntai’s camp to replenish his ranks. The new recruits included not only barbarians from the occupied zones but also the Tuyuhun, who had long been suppressed in the Western Regions.

Ever since the Tuyuhun were defeated by Yang Guang and their territory seized, large numbers of Han people had migrated to the Xihai and Heyuan commanderies. To ensure stability, the Tuyuhun had been suppressed by the authorities for many years. Although Li Wenyuan had abolished many of these restrictive policies, many still harbored the "better to be a chicken head than a phoenix tail" mentality, actively agitating for independence. When news of Zhang Juntai’s policy of trading military merit for land arrived, several Tuyuhun factions emerged, rallying a large number of their people to join the Naturalized Army.

Having repeatedly clarified that those who died on the battlefield would not receive the same benefits as Li Wenyuan’s Western Region Army, these hot-blooded Tuyuhun, desperate to restore their nation, chose to join the ranks. As the second wave of reinforcements, they reached the front lines at Gaochang alongside the supply trains, waiting to be integrated into the battle-worn Naturalized Army.

Adhering to the principle of rewarding merit and punishing faults, Zhang Juntai brought out a large quantity of supplies to reward the soldiers of the Naturalized Army. The barbarians, overjoyed at the bounty, scrambled for the wine and meat, laughing and carousing with abandon.

Nearby, Zhang Juntai set a modest table for Mulle and said, "Our Western Region Army has a rule: we always avoid extravagance and waste. Let’s make do with this."