Chapter 91: Cats Are Just That Bad Part 3

Sabutai’s gaze swept across everyone in the tent, his ambition naked on his face. “If Eastern Liao is defeated, your country must help me ascend to the throne!”

This time, it was Gu Huaiyu’s turn to laugh. His laughter was clear and pleasant, his shoulders trembling with mirth. “The Khan isn’t a three-year-old child. If I truly promised you that, would you even believe me?”

He looked up at Sabutai, hiding nothing. “If Eastern Liao truly reaches that point, this land will become Great Chen’s territory.”

Surprisingly, Sabutai wasn’t angry. Instead, he laughed loudly, a flicker of admiration appearing on his face.

If Gu Huaiyu had just agreed to everything, Sabutai would have called his guards in to execute these two liars immediately.

If Great Chen could actually swallow Eastern Liao, why would they let someone else have it for free just to be a puppet king?

If a family catches a fat sheep, would they hand over the choicest meat to a stranger?

Sabutai looked at Gu Huaiyu and suddenly sat forward. “Then tell me. If I help Great Chen, what benefits do I get?”

Gu Huaiyu had already thought this through on the way. He pulled a map from his sleeve, casually shoved the wine pot aside, and spread the map out on the low table with a crisp snap.

“The Khan gets his freedom. And this land—”

His pale, elegant fingertip traced a line along the edge of the map.

Pei Jingyi, standing behind him, saw it clearly. He had to press his tongue hard against the roof of his mouth to keep from laughing out loud on the spot.

Sabutai bolted upright, the table rocking violently under the impact. He stared fixedly at that line, his face flushed red with fury. “You—!”

Amula leaned in to look and froze where he stood.

The Han interpreter stared at Gu Huaiyu, forgetting to translate the last sentence until Gu Huaiyu shot him a cold look. Only then did he begin to stammer out the translation.

The line Gu Huaiyu had drawn clearly intended to drive the people of Eastern Liao back to their ancestral home of two hundred years ago—the freezing, bitter grasslands of the far north, where the winds were harsh, the rain was scarce, and the soil was too poor to grow wheat.

Great Chen had stood for two hundred years and had paid tribute for over seventy of them. The world had long forgotten that period of history when the Central Plains were in chaos and the nomadic iron cavalry had seized the opportunity to slaughter Han citizens and occupy cities, forcibly building the so-called “Eastern Liao” on the fertile soil of a farming civilization.

Successive emperors of Great Chen had been powerless to reclaim it. Over time, even the Han citizens had begun to forget that this land of rolling wheat fields was supposed to be their home.

Sabutai’s expression was hideous. His hair seemed to stand on end with rage as he planted his hands on his thick waist. “Fine! Fine! You go too far!”

He had assumed that no matter how greedy Great Chen was, as an ally who helped them defeat Eastern Liao, he would at least get a piece of the meat.

Who would have thought he’d get nothing—and be driven back to his frozen hellhole of a home instead?

The interpreter finished his trembling translation. He couldn’t help but peek at Gu Huaiyu, only to see the Chancellor still sitting composed, looking up at the man who was far larger and more imposing than him with a calm, steady gaze.

“Why is the Khan so angry?” His voice remained unhurried as his finger tapped the line on the map. “You have occupied this land for two hundred years. Now, it is simply being returned to its rightful owner.”

A moment later, he raised a hand that looked as if it were carved from jade. “I can guarantee at least this much—”

“I will not permit the soldiers to indulge in looting or rape.” He slowly raised one finger. “There will be no First Night Rite.”

His second finger followed. “The land and livestock of ordinary herders and farmers will not be touched.”

Finally, he raised a third finger, speaking as if it were a minor detail. “Only those who have Han blood on their hands will be required to pay their debt in blood.”

Sabutai’s rugged face froze.

Every point Gu Huaiyu mentioned was an atrocity that Eastern Liao had committed—and was still committing—against the Han people for two hundred years.

Though he was far away in Eastern Liao, Sabutai had heard of the happenings in the Great Chen court. He knew this Chancellor never spoke empty words; he did what he said.

“I can also guarantee one more thing.”

Gu Huaiyu suddenly curled his hand into a fist and flashed a bright smile. “Great Chen will establish permanent trade with the Khan. You will always be a friend of Great Chen.”

These words provided a graceful exit while maintaining a hard bottom line. It looked like a concession, but he hadn’t yielded an inch.

Sabutai closed his eyes and let out a long sigh, sitting heavily back onto his felt cushion. “Let me think on this—”

“One incense stick of time.”

Gu Huaiyu cut him off.

He wasn’t trying to be overbearing, but Yelü Chi had likely already received word that Great Chen officials had infiltrated the country. Every moment they lingered was another moment their heads were balanced on the edge of a blade.

Sabutai snapped his eyes open and stared at him for a long time. Finally, he waved a hand helplessly. “Fine. No need to wait. I agree.”

“Khan!” Amula’s eyes turned red as he threw himself at Sabutai’s feet, clutching his clothes and wailing.

Gu Huaiyu rose composedly, but halfway through the motion, his body stiffened. He discreetly sat back down.

Seeing this, Sabutai assumed he had unfinished business. “What? Does the Chancellor wish to drink three cups with me?”

“Please prepare a fast horse for the Khan.”

Gu Huaiyu’s expression was normal, as if the stumble had never happened.

Sabutai subconsciously looked at Pei Jingyi’s brawny frame. “He can’t ride?”

His impression of Gu Huaiyu today was that the man was bold and resourceful—a warrior among warriors. And every warrior of the grasslands could ride.

The corner of Pei Jingyi’s mouth twitched. He leaned down, took Gu Huaiyu’s arm, and easily hoisted the man—whose legs had gone completely numb—to his feet.

He took the opportunity to smooth out the wrinkles in Gu Huaiyu’s robe, saying without blinking an eye, “This Pei is a clingy man. If I don’t ride double with the Chancellor, my heart starts to race with worry.”