We have fought to the Arctic Circle, and you want me to inherit the throne?

He Conglong suddenly opened his eyes, his vision was blurry, and his ears were buzzing, as if countless bees were running around in his head.

He struggled to get up, but found that his hands were tightly bound with rough hemp ropes and he could not move.

His vision gradually became clearer, and he found himself in a simple tent, surrounded by people lying in all directions.

These people were all ragged and haggard, like walking corpses.

There was a big hole in the top of the tent, and sunlight leaked through it, illuminating this space full of despair.

He Conglong tried hard to recall everything that happened before he fell into a coma.

He remembered leading his personal guards to the rear, fighting bloody battles, only to be struck by an arrow and eventually lose consciousness...

He Conglong felt sad. He remembered that those guards had died outside the city gate in order to save him.

Thinking of this, He Conglong felt heartbroken.

He had messed up in the end. He had wanted to achieve great military exploits in his first battle, but because of a momentary negligence, he caused the tragic deaths of so many brothers.

He Conglong tried to ask the people around him about the situation, but they just looked at him blankly with empty eyes and made some mumbling sounds that he could not understand.

This group of people obviously did not understand Xia language and looked like slaves of the Heishui Mohe.

At this moment, a thin figure approached him timidly.

It was a child who looked no more than ten years old. He was wearing tattered animal skins and his face was covered in mud, but his big eyes looked exceptionally bright.

"You...are you from Qing?" the child asked in not very fluent Xia language.

Hearing the familiar language, He Conglong seemed to have grasped a life-saving straw: "Are you from Qing? Where is this place?"

The child gestured excitedly, "You... speak too fast. I can't understand you."

He Conglong took a breath, slowed down his speech and asked again.

"My name is Wanyan, I'm not from Qing, I'm from Mohe..."

His father was once the leader of another Mohe tribe, and his mother was a commoner woman who followed the army in the previous dynasty's expedition to Liaodong. Later, when the Huan Kingdom was defeated, she drifted to the Mohe tribe.

Wanyan should be a surname, and this kid doesn’t even know how to say his name in Xia language.

Wanyan told He Conglong that this was the military camp of the Heishui Mohe. They had received a request for help from the King of Goryeo, so they came here to attack the Fengtian Army.

"Those people..." He Conglong pointed at the slaves around him.

"They are all slaves," Wanyan said in a low voice. "The Heishui Mohe captured them from all over. There are Khitans and people from other Mohe tribes."

The Heishui Mohe people were a typical slave society, and they plundered people everywhere.

The area outside the Great Wall is vast and sparsely populated. Everyone is short of manpower and can only increase the population through plundering.

The slavery system of the Heishui Mohe was very special, a system similar to the pyramid schemes of later generations.

The slaves of the Heishui Mohe people were called "Boyi Aha", which were the baoyi slaves during the Qing Dynasty.

The Mohe people would take slaves to war if they could capture them by any means, and these slaves could also capture the enemy and use them as slaves.

Slaves can have slaves, and slaves of slaves can have slaves, and this is passed down layer by layer.

This resulted in the fact that the status of slaves among the Heishui Mohe was not that low, and slaves were rarely willing to resist.

As long as one can still oppress others, he will be extremely disgusted by the oppression of others.

Of course, this system grows quickly and decays even faster.

And everyone here, including Wanyan, was a slave of a Mohe man named Yishida.

Yicida was not a noble Mohe person, but his situation was rather special. He was a slave of Dudiji, the leader of the Heishui Mohe.

After hearing Wanyan's words, He Conglong fell into silence and thought.

Wanyan said excitedly: "You are so strong, you will definitely be able to capture many slaves. Then you will be the most powerful slave under Yicida. Don't forget me."

The reason why Wanyan was willing to talk so much to He Conglong was because he saw He Conglong's potential and that he knew how to seek benefits and avoid harm at a young age.

He Conglong looked at him helplessly.

What slaves of slaves of slaves? Although I am a defeated general, I will not play the trick of capturing slaves with these barbarians.

He Conglong thought for a moment and then asked, "How is the defense of this military camp?"

Wanyan pointed outwards: "I know what you are thinking. It is impossible to escape. We are in the middle of the camp."

He Conglong looked outside and saw tents one after another.

I am still injured, and it is impossible for me to get out of here by myself.

He also knew the situation in Mudi City. It was good enough for the remaining troops to defend the city, and it was impossible for them to send troops to rescue him.

He Conglong rubbed his head and began to think of countermeasures.

It was not his character to sit and wait for death. The fact that the Mohe people did not kill him immediately meant that they knew his own value.

But they don’t take themselves too seriously, which means they don’t know their own identity yet.

"Wanyan." He Conglong looked at the child. "Besides killing enemies on the battlefield, are there other ways to obtain slaves?"

Wanyan hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "You can challenge a slave owner. If you win, you can get all his slaves. If you lose, you die."

He Conglong's eyes lit up slightly.

"You just mentioned Yicida. How many slaves does he have?"

Wanyan pointed at himself and then at these people: "He has a lot. He needs more than ten tents like this to fit them all."

He Conglong looked around and saw at least twenty slaves around.

In other words, that Yicida had more than 200 slaves under his command?

At this moment, the curtain of the tent was roughly opened, and a tall and burly figure walked in.

He was wearing animal skins, a bearskin hat, his face was painted with strange oil paint, and a scimitar hung at his waist. He exuded a barbaric aura.

He looked around the tent and his eyes finally fell on He Conglong.

The man walked up to He Conglong, squatted down, and said in stiff Xia language: "You, my slave."

He Conglong suppressed the anger in his heart, stared at him coldly, and said nothing.

The Mohe man didn't seem to care about his attitude. He continued to speak to himself:

"My name is Yicida, a warrior of the Black Water Mohe tribe. You are lucky to be captured by me. I will take good care of you, as long as you are obedient."

He grinned, revealing a row of uneven yellow teeth, and a strong fishy smell hit me in the face.

He Conglong frowned but still said nothing.

Yi Ci Da patted He Conglong's cheek and said frivolously, "Have a good rest and heal your injuries."

After saying that, the man stood up and walked out of the tent.

"Hello." He Conglong suddenly spoke.

Yi Ci turned around, looking unfriendly: "What?"

"I need water and food." He Conglong said calmly, "Since I am your slave, you don't want me to starve to death, right?"