Lakshen's nephew Mahamu slept soundly last night.
Among this thousand households, Mahamu is the bravest and most ferocious person. He is also the one who is most enthusiastic about riding on the grassland and firmly opposes going south to attach himself to Ding Haijun.
There are more than 110 capable warriors under his command, and he is the strongest among the hundreds of households belonging to Lakshen Thousand Households. When he went south, he slaughtered a Wanggu tribe and robbed some horses and cattle. The income was very rich, but he also lost a dozen of his old subordinates, and then kidnapped thirty people from the slaughtered tribe. Many young shepherds are enriched.
The herdsmen on the grassland are all good fighters. Several of the young men could turn left and right on a galloping horse and shoot from behind, quickly and accurately. Therefore, after Mahamu slaughtered this tribe, he gained both property and manpower, which was undoubtedly a profit.
However, these new herdsmen were not loyal enough after all, and their eyes still flashed with hatred. We must bring blood on their hands and let them know the benefits of massacre and robbery, so that they can truly be of the same mind as I, Mahamu Baihu.
For this reason, Mahamu has always disapproved of going south to join the Dinghai navy. Under his rough face, there was a delicate heart. He had long known that once the strong men on the grassland surrendered to the political power in the south, they would be like wild wolves turning into dogs. You may be able to eat more, but your strong instincts will definitely fade away, just like those who have been going south one after another over the years and were compiled into the Yi Army by the Jurchens, all of them are in terrible shape.
However, his uncle Lakshen Qianhu was timid and had to take all the tribesmen south. As a result, the Han slaves in his own hands were deprived of him before he could get much benefit. How stupid does this have to be? This is carving out your own flesh, giving it to the navy men to eat!
For this reason, Mahamu became furious and argued with Lakshen Qianhu many times, and almost started fighting several times. However, Lakshen's fear of Genghis Khan was engraved in his bones, and the dispute never came to any result. It was not until last night that Lakshen finally made up his mind, and the future he showed Mahamu was better than Mahamu originally imagined.
It turns out that Genghis Khan is about to launch an all-out westward expedition, and the eastern part of the grassland is about to become a terra incognita! At this time, if you move quickly, you can move faster and faster. In the end, it will be more than just the joy of burning, killing and looting on the grassland? Maybe you can get over the addiction of sweating profusely!
With such good expectations, Mahamu returned to his camp and carefully checked all the properties. He made sure that every man was ready for battle, every horse was fat, and even the women, sheep, and slaves were ready to go, and then he fell asleep satisfied.
He slept so soundly that when Na Keer rushed into his yurt and shook his shoulders hard, he couldn't wake up.
It wasn't until Na Ke'er started shaking his head that Mahamu opened his eyes wide.
He slapped Na Ke'er with his backhand and staggered a few steps: "What are you doing? Can't you just talk to me?"
Na Ke'er fell to the ground with his head up, his face full of panic: "Qianhu...Qianhu is dead!"
"What?"
Mahar sat up suddenly, feeling dizzy.
What Na Ke'er said next, Mahamu didn't listen at all. He rushed out of the yurt shirtless, jumped on a saddleless horse, and rushed into the Qianhu Tent like a whirlwind. There were two people at the tent door who stretched out their hands to stop them, but were violently knocked open by Mahamu.
Then he saw the wide-eyed corpse of Lakshen, the wound below his throat and the deep black color after the large amount of blood around it had coagulated.
Lakshen, the uncle, was kind to Mahamu. Perhaps out of some compensation for his sister and brother-in-law who died young, he gave Mahamu the position of a hundred households and twenty cavalrymen who started his career. Every time he divided the pasture, he always divided the area near the river beach. Part of it is allocated to Mahamu.
The moment he saw the corpse, Mahamu felt a little sad in his heart.
But this sadness is fleeting. The warriors on the grassland are as tough as iron, as cold as the snow falling from the sky during the White Disaster, and as alert and vigilant as the rams that guard the tribe. Those who cannot do this are not qualified to be the leader of a tribe, and they are not qualified to control a thousand households under the pressure of Genghis Khan.
In Mahamu's impression, his uncle Lakshen was such a person, and he himself wanted to be such a person.
"Who is the murderer? Who did it?"
Several people around him shook their heads, and someone whispered: "Batuer, who was on night duty, came into the tent in the morning and found that Qianhu was already like this. They said that no one had entered or left the tent, and the sentries around the camp had not seen any special movements. …”
Mahamu cried out and knelt down next to Lakshen's body. He looked closely at the wound and determined that the wound was caused by a sharp knife. The cuts of muscles and tendons were so smooth that the muscles suddenly burst. Contraction, exposing the blood vessels and trachea.
This method of cutting the neck is commonly used by the Mongolians. It can be used to kill sheep, humans, and horses.
Of course, an experienced butcher can also directly cut open the chest and cut off the large blood vessels above the heart to allow the blood to accumulate in the body. However, using that method to deal with a living person would require two or three companions to help, otherwise there would be no chance. The law restrains roving hands and feet.
There is no doubt that the person who killed thousands of households in Lakshen was a Mongolian, and only one person. Moreover, this person is also very familiar with the rules of camping!
Who did it? Why did he do this?
Could it be that someone was dissatisfied with the Great Khan's decision to return to the grassland?
Once Lakshen Qianhu dies, the entire Qianhu tribe will fall apart at any time. I am not strong enough to control this Qianhu! At this time, who will be the most advantageous? Damn it, damn it! Such an ambitious person will definitely destroy the great cause built by Qianhu himself!
Mahamu suddenly stood up and looked at the other people in the felt tent with blood-red eyes. At this time, no one without status dared to enter the felt tent, not even the Nak'er, Batu'er, or even the slaves and Boole who were members of the Lakshen Thousand Households during their lifetime were not qualified.
This thousand-household tribe was pieced together from many dispersed Merqi and Wanggu tribes after the rise of Genghis Khan. It has only been five years since it was incorporated into the name of the Great Mongolia. Therefore, many things follow the most traditional and straightforward processes on the prairie. For example, after Qianhu died, only the eleven people in the account were qualified to discuss the cause of death and even the subsequent issues.
Eleven centurions. Before Mahamu arrived, there were four people in the tent. After Mahamu arrived, six people arrived one after another.
"Who was on guard duty around the big tent last night? Someone entered the tent and killed the Great Khan. All the people on guard duty should die!"
"It's Batu Er Sono of Qianhu." Another powerful centurion, Hamaruddin, replied, "I have sent people to inquire."
"Bring it in! Ask here! Ask in front of everyone! Are you asking secretly to hide something?" Mahamu shouted irritably.
These words are simply accusing Hamaluddin of murder. Hamaluddin was furious and was about to curse, but was stopped by several centurions around him.
Several centurions immediately shouted outside, asking their subordinates to bring Sono.
Ermubu, who was standing on the other side of the tent, suddenly said coldly: "Qianhu died so strangely, could it have something to do with those Han'er envoys? After all, as soon as they arrived, something happened to Qianhu! After all, we just decided to return to the grassland. , something happened to Qianhu!"
There was a moment of silence in the tent.
Most households are not as reckless as Mahamu, nor are they as sinister as Omubu. They immediately thought that everyone's decision to return to the grassland happened last night, and it was a secret decision, completely hidden from the Han'er envoys. It was really low possibility that the Han'er envoys would kill people because of this.
However, after such a big thing happened, the murderer had to be found. During the process, many centurions must have argued with each other. It would not be bad if someone with sufficient status was present to witness it.
At this time Mahamu shouted: "Then bring them too! Ask them clearly on the spot!"
It was inconvenient for everyone to object, so they immediately followed the trend and sent people to invite Ge Qingshu and his party.
Na Ke'er, who was delivering the order, rushed to the big tent where the Dinghai navy envoys were resting, and bumped into Ge Qingshu, who was directing him to pack up.
Na Ke'er actually had some brains. He knew that the death of Qian Hu would cause the entire tribe to be in chaos. It might not be appropriate to rashly fall out with the envoy at this time. So he maintained basic etiquette, found Ge Qingshu, the leader of the envoy, and told him the situation.
Ge Qingshu was startled and asked repeatedly: "What? Qianhu is dead? How is it possible? Who did it? This...this...when we were drinking yesterday, wasn't he still fine? This... …How can I explain this to my family’s commander?”
Na Keer replied: "The centurions are checking the situation in the big tent. Please ask the envoy to go with me to bear witness."
"Okay, let's go now!"
Ge Qingshu casually named a few companions and left. As he hurried outside the camp, he bumped into a subordinate leading a horse, blocking his way. Ge Qingshu was so anxious that he was sweating profusely. He didn't even have to wait patiently for a few breaths. He raised his hand and whipped him several times, until the subordinate's face was covered with blood: "Get out of the way! Get out of the way!"
