Chapter 78 The Northern Emperor's Worries

Inside the Honglu Guest House, Helian Mingzhu saw the palace guards who had come to deliver rice, grain, and charcoal as usual through the window, and immediately gave Wuzhu a wink.

Wuzhu understood, and quickly put on a smile as he stepped forward. He took out a silver note from his sleeve, trying to slip it to the head guard, and said in a low voice, "General, you've worked hard. This is just a small token of my appreciation. I wonder... about the New Year's Eve banquet, where we..."

The head guard remained expressionless, even taking a step back to distance himself from Wuzhu. His voice was icy, leaving no room for negotiation:

"His Majesty has decreed that the Northern Kingdom delegation has come from afar and is exhausted from their journey. It is freezing cold today, and I fear that you are not used to the climate of the Great Zhou. You should rest well in the guest house. As for the New Year's Eve banquet, you need not attend."

After saying this, he didn't look at Wuzhu's frozen face anymore. He ordered his men to put down the supplies, then turned around and led his team away decisively, leaving Wuzhu standing there, clutching the unaccepted silver note, his face turning pale and then red.

Helian Mingzhu saw this scene clearly from inside the window, and her last shred of hope was completely shattered. She slumped back into her chair, utterly exhausted.

“They won’t even let us show our faces at the palace banquet…” she murmured, her voice trembling with a hint of despair. “He… can’t even be bothered to put on a last bit of pretense.”

Wuzhu returned, his face equally grim: "Princess, Yuwen Che is determined to trap us here to death, using it as a pretext and bargaining chip for launching a war..."

Helian Mingzhu closed his eyes, as if he could already see the flames of war about to ignite in the northern border. This New Year's Eve was a veritable prison for them, and the shadow of war was approaching at an unprecedented speed.

Helian Mingzhu sat there in silence for a long time, as the sky outside the window gradually darkened. She suddenly spoke, her voice unusually calm, carrying a resigned indifference:

"Marquis Zhenbei... Pei Zhongyuan, he still hasn't returned to the capital, has he?"

Wuzhu, standing to the side, stiffened slightly upon hearing this. He lowered his head and replied in a dry voice:

"Yes, Princess. Our people... the last message confirmed that the Marquis of Zhenbei has remained in the Northern Border Camp and has not left. Moreover... the mobilization of the Great Zhou army at several border passes... has become increasingly frequent."

Upon hearing this, Helian Mingzhu showed no surprise on his face, but instead gave a faint, desolate smile.

"As expected..." she uttered softly, as if she had used up all her strength.

She stopped asking questions and clung to no more illusions. With the Marquis of Zhenbei stationed at the northern border and his troops frequently mobilized, Yuwen Che had completely isolated them… All the clues pointed to the same cruel truth—war was inevitable.

She slowly stood up, walked to the window, and gazed at the gray sky separated by high walls. This New Year's Eve held no reunion, no celebration, only cold imprisonment and the impending bloodshed that would determine the fate of the nation.

"Brother Wang..." she whispered to the north, in a voice only she could hear, "Your gift... I'm afraid... will really bring you utter destruction..."

Meanwhile, in the Golden Horde royal court of the Northern Kingdom, Helian Bobo watched as the newly selected envoys set off for the Great Zhou with an even more lavish gift list, but his brow remained furrowed.

He turned to the minister in charge of intelligence and asked in a deep voice, "Still unable to contact Mingzhu and Wuzhu?"

The minister bowed hastily, cold sweat beading on his forehead: "Your Majesty, we have tried all channels, but still... there is no news at all. The capital of Great Zhou is like an iron fortress."

Another minister stepped forward and said, "Your Majesty, our scouts report that the Great Zhou royal family seems to be doing as usual, busy preparing for the New Year's Eve celebration. There are no obvious signs of troop movements inside or outside the capital, and it seems... there is no intention to launch an immediate attack."

Helian Bobo pondered for a moment, tapping his fingers on the armrest of the throne: "Yuwen Che is holding Mingzhu and the others captive, yet he remains inactive, and the capital is peaceful... What is he waiting for?"

An old minister who advocated peace seized the opportunity to advise, "Your Majesty, perhaps Emperor Yuwen is simply waiting for a clearer stance from us? The envoys we sent this time carried lavish gifts and adopted an extremely humble attitude; perhaps they can ease the situation and bring back the princess..."

Another general held a different view: "Your Majesty, we must not be careless! Yuwen Che is treacherous and cunning; beneath this apparent calm, there may be hidden dangers! The Marquis of Zhenbei has not returned for half a year; this is no ordinary matter!"

Helian Bobo waved his hand impatiently: "Enough! Strengthen the defenses at the border; we cannot afford any mistakes. As for the envoys... I hope they can bring back good news."

He still harbored a sliver of hope, wishing that Yuwen Che was merely using this as a pretext to exert pressure and seek greater gains, rather than truly intending to launch a full-scale war. After all, waging war in the dead of winter is no easy task for either side.

Helian Bobo turned his gaze to a general in the tent known for his bravery and outspokenness, and asked in a deep voice, "Bater, tell me, if we were to go to war with the Great Zhou now, what are the chances of victory for my Northern Kingdom?"

A general named Batel stepped forward. He was burly and rugged-looking. Upon hearing this, he did not answer immediately, but pondered for a moment before clasping his hands in a fist salute and saying:

“Your Majesty, when it comes to cavalry battles in the field, the men of the North are not afraid of the Great Zhou! But... the Great Zhou's army is well-equipped, its cities are fortified, and its supplies are plentiful. In particular, the Zhenbei Army has been fighting against us for many years and is extremely difficult to deal with. If we engage in a direct confrontation, our army may be able to gain a temporary advantage due to its mobility, but if we fall into a stalemate... the chances of winning or losing are probably less than 50%.”

He paused, then added, "Moreover, the Great Zhou's national strength far surpasses ours. If Yuwen Che is determined to fight, reinforcements and supplies will flow in continuously, and we... cannot afford to waste time."

Helian Bobo's face darkened; this answer was not unexpected. He then asked the question he feared most:

"In your opinion... will Yuwen Che personally lead the expedition this time?"

Upon hearing the words "the emperor personally leads the expedition," Batel's expression became noticeably more serious, even showing a hint of fear.

"Your Majesty, I dare not speak for others. But if it is Yuwen Che..."

He took a deep breath, his voice lowering:

"Judging from his past behavior, if he decides to wage war against the Northern Kingdom, the possibility of him personally leading the expedition is extremely high!"

Batel looked at Helian Bobo, his tone heavy:

"Your Majesty, don't forget that before he ascended the throne, he personally led troops into battle several times, employing ruthless and decisive tactics, and never suffering a defeat! If he were to personally come, the morale of the Great Zhou army would surely soar to its peak, and for our army..."

He didn't say anything more, but everyone in the tent understood the unspoken message: the presence of a war god-like emperor at the front lines had a world of difference in impact on both sides.

Helian Bobo's hand, resting on the throne, clenched unconsciously. This was precisely the situation he feared most. If Yuwen Che came, it would mean a fight to the death; the Northern Kingdom would face a high-stakes gamble on its national destiny, and the stakes might very well be the future of the entire grassland.