Eastern Han Dynasty, not the Three Kingdoms

Everyone felt as if they had been granted a pardon and dismounted. The guards collapsed to the ground, exhausted, unable to even grip their weapons. Murong Xuepo's relatives were also pale-faced, panting heavily. The women huddled together, sobbing, their faces filled with the terror of surviving a calamity.

Murong Xuepo dragged his heavy steps to his wife's side. Looking at her haggard appearance, he felt a mix of emotions. His wife looked up with tearful eyes and asked softly, "Your Majesty, are we...are we really safe?" Murong Xuepo gritted his teeth and forced a calm expression, saying, "We should...we should be safe. But we can't let our guard down. After a short rest, we must continue our journey."

However, they were exhausted both physically and mentally. Every gust of wind on this seemingly peaceful grassland could startle them. They didn't know what the future held, nor whether they could survive this brutal escape. All they could do was take a short breather to recover some strength before continuing their uncertain journey.

Thirsty and hungry, Murong Xuepo and his group had no choice but to reluctantly order the slaughter of several horses. Seeing their everyday companions fall, their eyes were filled with sorrow, but the instinct for survival spurred them into action.

They eagerly scooped up the horse blood and swallowed it greedily. The pungent taste of blood spread in their mouths, temporarily relieving their burning thirst. Then, they cut off pieces of horse meat, quickly roasted them with the rudimentary tools they carried, and devoured them. The half-cooked horse meat, at that moment, felt like the most delicious food in the world, bringing them a glimmer of life.

After a brief rest, Murong Xuepo knew that this couldn't continue indefinitely. Without supplies, they simply couldn't survive on this vast grassland, let alone continue their escape. He frowned, racking his brains for a way out. Since the Han army could penetrate deep into the grasslands to burn, kill, and plunder, they could only follow suit, heading north and seizing any supplies they encountered from other tribes.

Murong Xuepo knew perfectly well that in their current disheveled state, without food, water, or supplies, no tribe would dare to easily accept them. Moreover, the Han army was always on their heels, and they didn't know when they would catch up. If they didn't take action, death was the only outcome for them.

Murong Xuepo stood up, dusted himself off, and swept his gaze across the crowd. He said in a deep voice, "Gentlemen, we have no way back. From now on, we can only head north, seizing supplies from any tribes we encounter. Otherwise, we will all die on this grassland. Everyone, pull yourselves together and fight for survival!" The crowd nodded, their eyes rekindling with the will to live. Although the road ahead was fraught with peril, they had no other choice but to struggle for survival on this cruel grassland.

Murong Xuepo and his group fled across the grasslands for two days, surviving entirely by slaughtering horses. Each time they killed a horse, their hearts were filled with reluctance, but for survival, they had no other choice. Although the enemy army they had imagined was not in hot pursuit, they dared not relax their vigilance in the slightest, their nerves constantly on edge.

On the third day, they finally spotted a small tribe in the distance. A rough estimate suggested it numbered only about a thousand people. A ruthless glint flashed in Murong Xuepo's eyes, and without hesitation, she ordered, "Go in, burn, kill, and loot! Replenish your supplies, then immediately continue north!" Her guards obeyed, charging towards the tribe like hungry wolves.

The people of the tribe had been living peacefully, completely unsuspecting. When Murong Xuepo and her group stormed in like demons, cries and screams erupted. The guards, wielding sharp blades, hacked and slashed at anyone they saw, looting anything of value. The entire tribe was instantly engulfed in flames and chaos. The wails of the women and the screams of the children filled the air, a chilling spectacle.

Murong Xuepo watched his guards loot supplies without a trace of pity. He knew all too well that on this cruel grassland, it was a matter of life or death. Without doing this, they themselves would not survive. Before long, the guards had seized a large quantity of grain, water, and other necessities, and had also brought back quite a few cattle and sheep.

After this bloody raid, the tribe was unrecognizable. Many lay dead in pools of blood, and the survivors watched in terror as the demons departed. Murong Xuepo led the group, herding the stolen cattle and sheep, and carrying supplies, continuing their northward escape.

This tribe had previously escaped the Han army's large-scale sweep, but unexpectedly, they now faced Murong Xuepo and his desperate band of fugitives. In this chaotic world, every tribe on the grasslands was like a piece of duckweed in a storm, their fate uncertain, not knowing what calamity awaited them next. Murong Xuepo and his group, in their struggle for survival, had also become ruthless wolves on the grasslands, leaving only devastation in their wake.

And so, Murong Xuepo and his group continued their escape, raiding small tribes along the way. Perhaps due to their ruthless, desperate nature, some scattered herders and small groups joined them, slightly increasing their numbers. However, the wheel of fate was quietly turning; they were about to encounter their destined enemy.

That day, they traveled as usual. As darkness fell, a tribe that appeared to be quite large came into view ahead. Murong Xuepo's heart skipped a beat; he knew that many of the tribe's former leaders had once served under him and fought alongside him. He guessed that this tribe wouldn't have many able-bodied men left, and he unconsciously lowered his guard.

In fact, they had been spotted by the tribe as soon as they came into view. And those people were none other than the Xianbei prince Ulanda and his thousand Golden Horde warriors, who had escaped the night before the fall of Ordos City. Ulanda's actions were no different from Murong Xuepo's; both had resorted to burning, killing, and looting to survive in this chaotic world. However, Ulanda had fled earlier, so he wasn't as panicked as Murong Xuepo, and his escape wasn't as hurried.

Ulanda and his Golden Horde warriors fled for over half a month before finally stopping at this seemingly decent tribe. He ordered his warriors to conquer the tribe and then rest and recuperate there. Today marks their third day of rest in this tribe.

Fate, like an invisible hand, unexpectedly drew Ulanda's and Murong Xuepo's groups together. After the fall of Ordos City, Ulanda's group crossed the Langjuxu Mountains, heading north. Murong Xuepo, on the other hand, was to the east of the Langjuxu Mountains, also fleeing north in disarray. No one could have imagined that these two groups, each struggling for survival on the grasslands, would unexpectedly meet in this tribe.

Murong Xuepo's army gradually approached the tribe, the clatter of hooves echoing across the silent grassland like the drumbeats of death. Murong Xuepo, riding his tall warhorse, looked slightly weary from days of fleeing, but a fierce glint still flashed in his eyes as he gazed at the tribe. In his eyes, this tribe was their hope for survival, their source of supplies. He planned how to quickly take over the tribe, replenish their supplies, and continue their northward escape, just as he had done before. Unbeknownst to him, a fierce battle was brewing beneath the calm surface, like a surging undercurrent.

At the same time, Ulanda and his thousand Golden Horde warriors had also noticed Murong Xuepo's approaching force.

As Murong Xuepo's entourage drew closer, Ulan's eyes froze, his face filled with shock. He never expected that what appeared before him was Murong Xuepo, the traitor to the Eternal Heaven, and his remaining forces. "It's that traitor!" Ulan cursed through gritted teeth, his anger flaring up instantly.

He quickly turned around and shouted to the Golden Tent warriors below who were waiting in battle: "Warriors, prepare for battle! That is Murong Xuepo, who betrayed the Eternal Heaven. Today is his end!" Upon hearing this, the Golden Tent warriors shouted excitedly, raised their weapons high, their cold light flashing, and their morale soared instantly.

At the same time, Murong Xuepo also noticed the unusual commotion in the tribe. He saw a group of people standing ready for battle emerging from the tribe, and the leader was none other than Ulanda. His heart sank. But he quickly calmed down and shouted, "Ulanda, our common enemy is the Han army. We are both at our wits' end. Can we not fight?"

Ulanda spurred his horse forward, arrived at the front of the formation, glared angrily at Murong Xuepo, and shouted back: "Murong Xuepo, you betrayed the Eternal Heaven, causing countless tribes to suffer and the grasslands to fall into war. Today I will cleanse you, this traitor, on behalf of the Eternal Heaven!"

Murong Xuepo sneered and said, "In this chaotic world, what's the point of talking about the Eternal Heaven? It's all about survival. You and I are both homeless dogs, why should we kill each other?"

Ulanda spat disdainfully and said, "If it weren't for your betrayal, how could the Han army have captured Ordos? Today, it's either you or me who dies!" With that, he waved his hand, and the warriors of the Golden Tent surged towards Murong Xuepo's troops like a tidal wave.

Seeing this, Murong Xuepo roared, "Kill!" The two sides instantly clashed, their shouts, screams, and the clash of weapons echoing across the grassland. Murong Xuepo's men were all his elite troops, and although outnumbered, they fought desperately, engaging in a fierce battle with the Golden Horde warriors of Ulanda.

Ulanda rode his warhorse, galloping through the enemy ranks, his long sword flashing like the Grim Reaper's scythe, reaping lives. He was determined to kill Murong Xuepo and rid the grasslands of this scourge. Murong Xuepo, not to be outdone, wielded his curved blade, dodging and parrying, trying to carve a bloody path through the enemy lines.

However, the warriors of Ulanda's Golden Horde, fueled by their anger at Murong Xuepo's betrayal, fought with exceptional tenacity. After a fierce battle, Murong Xuepo's forces gradually crumbled and began to collapse. Seeing the situation was dire, Murong Xuepo turned to flee, but Ulanda seized the opportunity and gave chase on horseback.

Ulanda roared, "Traitor, where do you think you're going!" With a swift swing of his longsword, a flash of cold light struck Murong Xuepo squarely in the back. Murong Xuepo screamed and fell from his horse. Ulanda dismounted, stepped forward, stomped on Murong Xuepo, raised his longsword, and plunged it down viciously. "This is the consequence of betraying the Eternal Heaven!"

With Murong Xuepo's fall, his troops completely collapsed, scattering and fleeing in all directions. The fierce battle finally came to an end, but Ulanda had paid a heavy price. Of the original thousand Golden Horde warriors, only two or three hundred remained, all wounded. Looking at the surviving warriors around him, Ulanda was filled with mixed emotions. Although he had successfully killed Murong Xuepo, their future remained uncertain, and he could only lead his remaining forces northward.