On a gloomy evening, Guo Yang finally gave the order: go!

The Tengger people looked at the sky in amazement, and in this kind of weather, it was most likely to rain continuously. On the grassland, rainy days are not suitable for hurrying, let alone fighting.

It's easy to sink into the soft, wet turf that the horses' hooves step on.

In their experience, even if they want to attack, they have to choose a good day, the weather is clear, the air is fresh, and the horses' hooves are dry on the grass, which will raise the smell of a mixture of earth and grass. That kind of good weather is the best for killing.

Guo Yang ignored it, and he asked the Tengger people to lead all the cattle into those "big houses", put on splints and rope stalks, and let everyone take all their belongings and board those big ox carts.

Even the flocks, pigeons, and toolboxes were stuffed into the big ox carts.

When it was designed, there was a slight error, and this huge fortress, which was supposed to be pulled by eight oxen, was too large to be pulled by twenty oxen, which was a bit troublesome.

However, the craftsmen began to renovate on the spot, adding some more wheels, redesigning a more reasonable set of halters and bridles, and widening the wheels by two or three feet, so that twenty cows could fit in.

After some tossing, it was the middle of the night, and the sky began to rain, first dripping, and later, the raindrops the size of beans began to pour.

The craftsmen were crawling and rolling in the muddy water, and they all rolled into mud pigs, and it was not easy for these behemoths to move. They stood in the rain, let the downpour wash away for a while, washed away all the mud on their bodies, and then dragged their tired bodies into the big ox cart.

Guo Yang had already instructed those Tengger people to stew mutton and prepare fine wine to reward these hard-working craftsmen.

The mutton was fishy, the mutton soup was hot, and a few more jue of wine were poured, and a hundred men moaned comfortably, burrowing into the warm sheepskin.

The mules, carrying large bags and small boxes, followed wet, leaving only two men to take care of them.

Outside, it was crackling and raining, but inside the big ox cart it was warm and drowsy. The craftsmen, who had worked hard for most of the night, soon fell asleep.

In the big ox cart where Guo Yang was, the old patriarch Jida was full of worries, and from time to time he opened a window at hand to look out. It was dark and rumbling outside, except for the sound of rain, which made him a little uneasy.

"Guo Yang, where are we going?" Old Patriarch Gida asked.

"Go to Arizen Haizi." Guo Yang drank wine while looking at those sheepskin maps, and said without raising his head.

The old patriarch Jida was taken aback, this kind of weather, sitting in this big carriage full of cattle smells, going to Arishan Haizi, the territory of those Bagan people? This seems like a joke!

Guo Yang's behavior is indeed a bit rash, where is this going to war, it is simply a stupid move, stuffing those old disabled women and children and sheep into a big ox cart, which is tantamount to sending it to the tiger's mouth.

The old patriarch Jida panicked, and he wanted to get up several times to say something, but when he saw Guo Yang and Anu's calm appearance, he swallowed this sulking.

The other Tengger people didn't know where they were going, it was raining outside, and they hid in the warm and spacious bullock carts, and they slept and slept again, and every time they woke up, there was the sound of "squeaking, squeaking" and the sound of rain.

The only people who were so excited that they couldn't sleep were the twelve children, who opened their car windows from time to time to let the cool breeze of the rainy night blow in, so as to cool their fiery faces and hearts.

……

The big ox cart traveled day and night on the wet grassland, neither hurried nor slow, approaching Arishan Haizi every day.

Guo Yang sat in a large solitary ox cart, his brows furrowed, and he buried his head in looking through the sheepskin maps. Anu lay on her side, listening to the sound of the rain, half-asleep and thinking about her thoughts.

"Anu," Guo Yang said suddenly, "With such a heavy rain, what do you say those Bagen people are doing?" ”

"Sleep." Anu remained half-asleep and said lightly.

"I'm still a little relieved, Ah Jiu's plan still has a big loophole." Guo Yang's eyebrows were tightly locked, and he seemed to be a little hesitant.

"Even the sky has loopholes, let alone plans." Anu said.

"That's all we have at stake. After all, the Nabagan people are not easy to mess with, and once we notice that something is wrong, we will not be able to eat and walk around. Guo Yang finally raised his head, opened the window and looked outside.

"The weak want to kill the strong, and it is impossible not to take risks." Anu said.

"The problem is, we're a little too weak, total...... Forget it, it's already so, and it's useless to say more. Guo Yang sighed and said.

"To drink or not to drink?" Anu finally rolled over and sat up, and asked with a smile.

"I don't have the heart to drink." Guo Yang was a little depressed.

Anu smiled, directly took out a jar of wine, poured two bronze jukes, and handed one to Guo Yang.

Guo Yang took the wine, looked at the endless rain outside the window, and took a sip thoughtfully.

"How many days have we been going?" Guo Yang asked.

"It's been nine days." Anu also looked out the window, and the whole grassland was shrouded in a rare heavy rain, foggy, quiet, lush, and drowsy.

"Ah Jiu, they should touch it." Guo Yang asked.

"I should have touched it. In this kind of weather, you can't let the pigeons out, and I don't know the specific situation. Anu said.

The two men fell silent, sat on the warm leopard skins, and drank slowly.

……

Ah Rishan Haizi, a quiet.

On the surface of the water, a thick fog rose one after another, and from a distance, it was impossible to see the scene on the lake at all.

Nearly a hundred simple boats, hidden in the mist, glided slowly, and on each boat, there were four people, all wet, and each of their faces were soaked in the cold rain, and they looked embarrassed.

But their eyes were shining, staring straight ahead, waving their oars softly.

In the distance, the tents of the Bagan people were shadowed, and on the shore of the lake, some wizened old horses were discarded nearby, snorting and gnawing on the wet grass.

They should be culled, and the animals should not eat this rain-soaked grass very often, otherwise, they will easily get sick. Prairie people generally do not eat horse meat, and those old horses that have been eliminated will be released and left to fend for themselves.

But horses are very affectionate animals, and once they are domesticated by humans, they are reluctant to go far away. It is said that old horses abandoned by the steppe people generally follow the shepherd's tent until they are too old to walk, and then they slowly die on their knees.

The boat slowly approached, and some gray figures were silent, and they bent their waists, carefully skirting the tents of the Bagan people, and groping towards the only mountain in the vicinity.

An old horse seemed to sense something, and one of its front hooves "thumped" through the muddy turf, suddenly raised its head, peered into the fog, and let out a low neighing sound.

But no one in the tent of the Bagan people came out to look at the water. In their consciousness, there are only fish and ducks in the water, which is their natural barrier, and it has been for hundreds of years.

The damned rain was falling incessantly, and the steppe people slept and slept again, and if it weren't for the women and slaves feeding the animals, and constantly getting out the dirty water with a layer of sheep, cow, and horse manure, the beast would have turned into a duck with two beautiful wings.

One of the Bagan men craned his neck, poked a disheveled head out of the tent, looked left and right to see that no one was there, and actually peed directly at the door.

The muddy and yellow urine was sticky and steaming, and more than a dozen grasses were crooked, and the scattered leaves stuck to the mud, and since then, they have never stood up.

……

Bagen Peak is the only mountain within a radius of hundreds of miles, towering into the clouds, strange rocks, pine trees twisting and twisting, all blown by the wind on the grassland.

Different from the scene under the peak, this Bagen Divine Peak is also surrounded by clouds and mist all year round when the weather is clear, and it looks quite a bit of a fairyland on earth.

However, since the ancestors of the Bagan people occupied this mountain, it seems a bit nondescript.

The steppe people were accustomed to living in tents, and the original stone caves on the mountain were abandoned and used as warehouses for storing supplies and piling up debris. The nobles of the Bagan people set up tents on the flat terrain of the peaks, and in order to resist the perennial winds on the peaks, the bases of these tents were made of stone blocks, covered with a round felt roof, which was a bit like a stone house in ancient times.

This unfortunate rain did not spare the nobles of the Bagan people, who gathered around a pot of fire with their necks hunched and clothed in leopard or bear skins, eating roasted whole sheep and drinking goat's milk, and barely talking.

On the grassland, neither wolves nor jackals seem to be reluctant to speak.

This is their territory, and those ordinary clansmen are not allowed to climb to the Divine Peak, and it has been like this for hundreds of years. So, how those nobles lived, outside the imagination of ordinary Bagan people.

The Hazhnaohai patriarch lived at the summit of the Sacred Peak of Bagen, a dangerous place with only a path up and down, and an abyss on either side.

At the end of the path, a bunker-like fortification was built out of stone, which was defended by twelve warriors of the Bagan people all year round. All the Baganites who were going to see the chief of the Hazhnahai tribe had to be examined by the twelve.

This kind of hierarchical tribe is extremely rare in the steppe, and it is said that only Agoura, who is newly promoted to the overlord of the steppe, and his most loyal dog-legged Hazhnaohai, are so pompous, that they simply regard themselves as sons of heaven, high above.

At this moment, the Patriarch of Harinaohai was playing with a knife, and the bright knife exuded a heartbreaking chill.

The snow-white knife reflected the miserable white and gloomy face of the Hazhnaohai patriarch.

"Damn, I want to negotiate with Lao Tzu for business when I offer a knife, and I don't go to the grassland to inquire!" Harinaohai sneered and muttered to himself, with a vicious and vicious look on his face.

With a "click", the knife was already in the sheath, and the Hazhnaohai patriarch slowly stood up.

"When this damn rain stops, those lowly merchants will arrive at Arishan Haizi. Deliver my orders, kill their people, rob their things! Harinauhai said in a deep voice.