Chapter 80: Upon the Snowy Plains

A piercing cry echoed—
High above, icy currents surged as a great gray-and-white snow eagle circled, slicing through a dark cloud and soaring toward a valley crowded with towering buildings. This was the permanent settlement of the Barley Tribe of Tibet.
The powerful gusts from the eagle’s wings swept the snow from the courtyard. The majestic bird landed smoothly, prompting several dark-skinned Tibetan servants to come out and investigate.
A young girl, in the midst of writing a prescription, heard the commotion and stepped out from the wooden loft. Seeing that the snow eagle, Manji, had returned, her heart leapt with joy. She hurried down, slipped off her fur coat, and draped it over Manji’s back.
The girl’s small, bronze-toned hands were exquisite, as if the Creator had sculpted them with special care. The maidservant by her side never took her eyes off the delicate hands of her mistress.
“Young Chieftain,”
“Yes.”
The girl answered, then picked up pieces of thawed fresh meat from a basin of hot water and fed them to Manji, one by one, until the eagle was full. Only then did she retrieve the bamboo tube attached to its ankle.
She had the servants lead Manji to the straw hut to rest. Opening the bamboo tube, she took out a bundle of medicinal herbs, inhaled their aroma, closed her eyes, and savored the scent—she truly loved it. As an apothecary, she could instantly distinguish the herbs contained within.
Her emerald green long skirt danced lightly across the snowy ground as she cradled the lengthy letter and the herbs and made her way back to the loft. After transcribing the prescription she had recited from memory, she donned the new cloak provided by her maid, gathered the letter, and picked up a freshly wrapped medicinal herb, heading toward her master’s residence.
Knock, knock!
The door creaked open.
“Ah, it’s Sister Little Immortal Doctor! My grandmother’s cough is so severe, we thought—”
“Mind your manners, the Young Chieftain is here—”
“Yunrui, there’s no need. Here is the medicine: boil and drink it three times over three days, and your grandmother’s illness will be cured. Rest assured, the gods above will surely bless her. Asa!” The girl comforted gently, her pale lips exhaling white vapor as she pressed her palms together in prayer.
“Yes, the gods will surely bless Grandmother. Asa! Thank you, Young Chieftain!”
“No need to thank me. This is my duty as Young Chieftain! Like my father, I will protect you all!”
The matron, hearing this, left her bedside and embraced her child, expressing gratitude to the girl—their thanks to the Sage and the Young Chieftain, for it was their presence that kept illness at bay among the tribe.

The girl left that household and visited another, distributing medicine as before and departing quickly—not for lack of desire to linger, but because others still needed her help. The men of the tribe were all at war, leaving only the elderly, women, and children behind.
Having delivered the medicine, she finally arrived at her master’s abode. From afar, she heard the rhythmic pounding inside and smelled the fragrance of herbs wafting through the crack in the door. She knocked as usual.
“Come in, the door’s not locked,” the white-robed elder replied, bustling about and occasionally tossing powdered herbs into a clay pot simmering over the fire.
“Master, there’s a letter from the Divine Healer of the Tang,” the girl ventured, deciding to speak.
As she expected, her master dropped the bowl of powder, ignoring the brewing concoction, and hurried forward to take the letter, breaking the seal and reading quickly. Soon, the scent of scorched medicine filled the air.
The girl urged her master to tend to the potion while she spread out the letter and read it aloud. At moments of excitement, the elder would burst out laughing, revealing his deep love for discussing medicine and the art of healing. When she reached the end, she paused, for the letter requested that the Sage come to Chang’an to co-author a peerless medical tome, preserving their lifetime of expertise for future generations.
“What is it?” The white-robed elder stroked his long beard, puzzled, approaching to look and furrowing his white brows. “Hmm, in a few months I’ll set out. My disciple, I too long for Chang’an.”
“Master, the journey is long, and why must we go, rather than have them come here—”
“No need to stop me. I shall go. For the friendship forged with Sun Ruowen in our youth, gathering herbs in the wild—I wish to see him again. He is the only one who understands me, and it is my lifelong wish.”
“Yes, Master, your disciple understands!”
The girl knelt, followed by her maidservant, for wherever the Young Chieftain went, she would go, determined to protect her mistress.
Before long, the girl brought her master’s resignation letter to her father’s tent, located at the outskirts of the village where the Barley Tribe’s guards were stationed.
“Father, I wish to accompany Master!”
“A’rui, must you go? We are at war with Tang now!” The thick-browed, broad-faced man sat casually in the main seat, holding the resignation letter and sighing. He knew this daughter was just like her mother—stubborn as a yak.
“I must!”
Looking at his daughter’s bronze-toned skin, his heart was heavy. Indeed, daughters cannot be kept forever; yet he was reluctant to marry her off early, so he waved his hand. “Alright, alright. Ashu!”
Responding to the chief’s summons, Changshu entered and knelt before him.
“Changshu, as chief, I command you: in three months, you must ensure the Young Chieftain’s safety. She and the Sage will travel to Chang’an to consult with the Divine Healer. When they return, they will be the pillars of our Barley Tribe!”

“Yes!” Changshu glanced at the Young Chieftain, then bowed deeply to her.
Months later, in Lhasa, the prince of Tibet listened darkly to his attendant’s report.
“Your Highness, that Ganmalagon has been telling the King that Tang is an awakened lion, and now, facing Gao Xianzhi, a mere little tiger, they have suffered repeated defeats—”
“Fool! Defeats? How infuriating! That mere Goryeo upstart dares call himself Tang’s fierce general? So what if he’s beaten us bloody—he’s not even a Tang man! What’s to fear?” The prince, not waiting for his attendant to finish, flung his anger about the chamber. The Tang courtesan serving nearby cowered on the floor, trembling—she never knew what mood her master might be in next.
“Re-re-report—” Another attendant, feeling the prince’s icy gaze, stammered.
“Speak!”
“Yes! It’s said that the Sage Yundan Gongbu and the Young Chieftain of the Barley Tribe are preparing to travel to Chang’an to consult the Divine Healer Sun Ruowen about medicine.”
Crash!
The prince shattered the clay bowl in his hand, trembling with rage. “That wretch, Maya Joy Haitangrui—originally, I meant to take her as a concubine, but forget it. Little Immortal Doctor? Hmph! I recall their Barley Tribe supports Ganmalagon’s peace faction. Summon Xu Ji’ang!”
Soon, Xu Ji’ang arrived, and seeing the shards scattered across the floor, he knew the prince was furious.
“Your Highness, I heard—”
“No need for rumors or flattery. I am angry, and the consequences are severe.” The prince drew his sword, strode up to Xu Ji’ang, and, without warning, stabbed the attendant who had just reported on Ganmalagon, tossing aside the bloodied blade, then seized the Tang courtesan, pressing her roughly into his embrace, indifferent to the blood pooling on the floor. “Ah, now I feel slightly better. Right, I’ll send a few more elites with you, including your old partner Eagle Eyes. When the Sage arrives in Chang’an, kill both him and the Divine Healer. We fight, never compromise—then Ganmalagon will have no grounds to speak! For now, I cannot completely break with Ganmalagon.”
The iron scent of blood thick in the air, Xu Ji’ang covertly glanced at the corpse, now still, and responded firmly, “Yes, Your Highness!”
(End of chapter)