Spring at the northern foot of Kunlun Mountain often comes later, but it still comes after all.

The snow melts and the seeds sprout.

The vast and boundless sea of Lop Nur is like a deep blue gem set in the earth, just like a huge, listening ear; The water and grass on both sides of the Milan River are abundant, cattle and sheep are multiplying, and there are shepherds singing.

The song is lonely, sad and vast.

On the sunny slopes, the grass is green and the wildflowers are pitiful.

On a crooked stake, a kneeling man sat naked: facing the sky on his back, with a sad expression, half of the sharpened stake poked out of his mouth, bloodstained, pointing to the sky.

His eyes were wide open, full of pain, anger, and unwillingness.

He was a slave, maybe Han, maybe Qiang, maybe Loulan, maybe Da Yue, or Anxi...... In short, not the Huns.

Of course, none of this matters.

Because, he died in the middle of the night.

The great pain drained the man's vitality, making his whole person look very depressed, and Aomorimori's face was covered with a layer of fine dewdrops, shining in the sun.

A vulture landed and sat on top of the man's head, thought sideways, and tried to peck it.

So, more vultures came.

They looked proud, like a group of nobles attending the feast, with an indifferent expression, enjoying the feast as if no one was around, and from time to time they would stop and look at the snow-capped mountains in the distance for a while.

Or, crooking his thick neck, he glanced coldly, the few Huns who ate meat and drank wine not far away, and a few Qiang people who were busy like dogs.

And, the pale, very thin young man: Han Jiazi, Yang Chuan.

He was busy with his eyebrows down, chopping wood, feeding the horses, carrying water, picking up cow dung left in the grass, and neatly stacking it beside his master's tent, silent as a stone.

Yes, he can only be silent.

Even the man who was executed on the stake secretly stuffed him with a few pieces of salt and a piece of cooked mutton the night before, and told Yang Chuan his name.

But what's the use?

After all, he is only twelve years old, and in the past few years, no matter how desperately he has tried to 'exercise' in private, his arms and legs have always been like a few bean sprouts, and his only strength is rock climbing and tree climbing.

By the way, he's also extremely fast when he runs.

In other words, today's Yang Chuan is just a flexible slave......

……

Weakness is the original sin.

The Huns punished a slave who cooked only for the purpose of beating the Qiang, and there was no need for any reason at all; I just don't know, who will be the next unlucky guy?

In order to avoid becoming the next unlucky egg, Yang Chuan carried a basket almost as high as him, pretended to look for scattered cow dung in the grass, and walked quietly into the distance.

"Danmuji, your Qiang mutton is very fat, and your salt is also very white, but why is the mutton not delicious?"

"Could it be that you Aries tribe want to take refuge in the Han Chinese?"

"Do you want to sit on that stake?"

"Venerable Master Ten, our cook is dead...... Why don't I send a few plump Qiang girls over? ”

“……”

The conversation between the Huns and the Qiang people came faintly, and Yang Chuan gloated in his heart.

These Qiang people were fierce and almost like a pack of hyenas on the grasslands, often roaming the Longxi area and plundering the grain, population, and livestock of the Han people.

However, after they moved westward and joined the Huns, they soon became a flock of sheep, to be slaughtered, and enjoyed the whips, knives, and humiliation of the Huns.

I have to say, this is also retribution, right?

Imagining that damn Danmu Jitou should sweat like a pulp at this moment, use his head to pestle the ground, and use the women of their Aries tribe to eliminate the anger of the Huns, Yang Chuan's heart felt a little dark.

'Dog eats dog, two mouthfuls. ’

No, the Huns claim to be Wolf Riha, and the Qiang are Sheep Riha, which is not a dog-eat-dog. ’

'After all, it's still the wolf that eats the sheep......

Just as he was thinking about it, suddenly, he felt the cold hairs on his back stand upside down, as if he was being targeted.

"Is that a Han cub?"

A very strong Hun pointed to Yang Chuan's back and laughed loudly: "Danmu Jitouren, since there are Han slaves in your tribe, why don't you let him be your cook?"

You must know that even our Hun kings like to eat beef and mutton cooked by Han cooks! ”

Yang Chuan scolded secretly, wanting to leave the place of right and wrong quickly, but he couldn't be too obvious, so he could only continue to look for cow dung quietly and walk forward slowly......

"Stop!"

At this moment, a Qiang man shouted: "That Han cub, don't roll over yet!" ”

Yang Chuan's heart suddenly sudden, but his face did not change at all, he looked wooden, and there was no pause under his hand, picking up a ball of wet cow dung and throwing it into the back basket.

Then, he continued to search in the grass, shouting to the Qiang people, as if he had not heard it.

In the past few years, he has never spoken in front of people, pretending to be a mute, but the Huns and Qiang people have basically learned the language of the Huns.

And the Han language he wanted to learn the most, but he didn't learn a few words.

Because, in this distant and wild place, he has never seen any Han people, so he still has not figured out who the current emperor of the Central Plains is......

"Don't stop me yet!"

Danmu Jitou scolded sharply, strode after him, grabbed Yang Chuan's unkempt hair, and said with a cruel smile: "Damn Han cub, I know you are a mute, are you also deaf?" ”

"Why don't you go over and meet the Venerable Master of the Ten!"

While speaking, Danmu Jitou used force in his hands to directly throw Yang Chuan out seven or eight steps, and the cow dung in the back basket was splashed on the ground, and the smell was unbearable.

Yang Chuan got up from the ground, his face harmless to humans and animals, and stretched out his hand and pointed to his nose.

"Yes, that's you!" Dan Muji scolded fiercely in Xiongnu dialect, "Go, the tenth master has something to ask you!" ”

Yang Chuan walked over slowly, lowering his eyebrows and lowering his head, like a lamb waiting to be slaughtered.

"Are you Han? Will you cook lamb? The Hun Commander looked up and down at the thin young man in front of him, and the disappointment on his face was very obvious.

Yang Chuan nodded silently, and his heart was full of slander: 'Lao Tzu not only cooks mutton, but also cooks a whole sheep feast......

"Go, slaughter a lamb and cook it, and if it doesn't taste good, you will die." The Huns pointed to the wooden stake not far away and said in a cold voice: "You will also become like that." ”

Yang Chuan turned his head to look at it, and there was a chill in his heart.

The vultures, feasted on their meal, flew away.

On the crooked stake, the body of the alien slave was left with a miserable skeleton, two empty eyes staring at the bright sun, focused, indifferent and calm......