Chapter One: Western Liao, The Bitter Wind Approaches

Western Regions, Northern Frontier!

It was early summer now; all things were awakening, glaciers melting, as snowmelt from the Altai Mountains flowed into the Dragonbone River—cold and clear, nurturing life.

A gentle breeze stirred, rippling waves of green.

On the distant verdant grasslands, herds of cattle and sheep grazed leisurely, while a dozen or so children galloped nearby on horseback, laughing and playing.

By the riverside, a boy of about fifteen or sixteen lay on the soft grass.

His head rested on a sheepskin coat, clad in a long-sleeved cloth garment, patched in many places, undeterred by the still chilly early summer western wind.

His chest rose and fell gently, revealing faint outlines of muscles beneath his clothes—not yet fully matured but solid and strong, like a young tiger growing into its power.

Though his face still bore some youthful softness, sharp angles were beginning to emerge, hinting at latent fierceness. Bathed in the crimson glow of the setting sun, his expression carried a hint of wildness and defiance.

This boy was Li Xiao.

He had just turned fifteen this year.

At this moment, he propped his hands behind his head, crossed his legs leisurely, chewing on a foxtail grass, whistling softly, utterly relaxed.

His eyes gazed into the clear blue sky, but his thoughts had already drifted afar…

“Ah~ I can’t go back~” he murmured softly.

Having been in this world for over half a month, he had come to understand his situation.

He had transmigrated!

The era he now inhabited was one of the most turbulent periods in Chinese history.

Not the Three Kingdoms of Wei, Shu, and Wu—but rather the tripartite era of Song, Jin, and Xia.

The Jingkang Incident had passed fifty years ago. The Jin dynasty occupied northern China, while the Southern Song was confined to a corner, paying tribute yearly.

Two years ago, the Southern Song’s fourth emperor ascended the throne, inaugurating the Qingyuan era.

By later historical reckoning, this was the year 1198 AD.

Yet Li Xiao’s current location belonged to none of these three states.

It was part of Western Liao.

A relatively unfamiliar kingdom situated west of Western Xia and Mongolia.

Its territory encompassed what would later become Xinjiang and southern Kazakhstan, as well as much of the other Central Asian states.

In 1125 AD, after the Battle of Jiajin Mountain, Emperor Tianzuo of Liao was captured by the Jurchen army, ending the Khitan Liao dynasty that had for two centuries oppressed the Song.

Yet in times of upheaval, heroes arise to turn the tide.

The Khitan general Yelü Dashi was such a hero.

Though he failed to defeat the Jurchens and restore Liao, he charted a new course, leading his troops westward into the Western Regions.

Crossing deserts and the Altai Mountains, he established a state far away in Central Asia.

This was the Western Liao.

Considered the continuation of the Khitan Liao, also known as the “Black Khitan” or “Qara Khitan,” its influence on world history was profound.

Some Western countries later called China “Khitan” due to Western Liao’s impact.

At its peak, Western Liao’s domain stretched from Dunhuang in the east to the Caspian Sea in the west, from Lake Balkhash in the north to the Kunlun Mountains in the south.

Its territory covered over 3.5 million square kilometers.

Li Xiao was now in the northeastern part of Western Liao—the Northern Frontier region—corresponding to what would later be western northern Xinjiang.

This vast land lay north of the Tianshan Mountains, south of the Altai, centered around the Junggar Basin.

Nestled between two great mountain ranges, enriched by melting snow and warmed by Atlantic moist air currents, the land was fertile, with abundant rainfall and rich pastures—ideal for pastoralism and agriculture.

Moreover, it was rich in mineral resources and would later become one of the most famous scenic tourist destinations.

But now, it was still a desolate expanse, lacking even a proper town.

“Never thought rebirth would land me here again—fate, indeed,” Li Xiao lay by the Dragonbone River, feeling the breeze, utterly relaxed.

“But compared to the Northern Frontier of later times, this place is truly magnificent in its prime.”

In his previous life, he had been a frontier officer stationed in the Northern Frontier.

Though fate’s wheel turned, it had brought him back eight centuries to this land he once vowed to protect with his life.

The Northern Frontier was fertile with rich grasslands, historically home to many nomadic peoples.

Besides these nomads, the presence of Han people had become an indelible vibrant hue on this land.

Since Zhang Qian’s missions to the Western Regions during the Han dynasty, Han presence here had never ceased, reaching its height in the Tang era.

The two protectorates, Anxi and Beiting, once made Han people dominant in the Western Regions.

But time passed, and the glory of Han and Tang faded.

Their descendants gradually assimilated into other peoples.

The Han inhabitants of the Northern Frontier now traced their origins back to the Western Liao’s founding war fifty years prior.

During Yelü Dashi’s westward campaign, the Khitan Liao dynasty had perished, and his Khitan army was too depleted.

Hence, Yelü Dashi had to recruit from other ethnic groups.

Among his main sources were Han people from the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan and Yun.

Of the sixty thousand troops in Yelü Dashi’s vanguard, at least a third were Han from Yan and Yun.

After the Battle of Kawant, Yelü Dashi defeated the Seljuk Empire, then Central Asia’s hegemon, and established the Western Liao kingdom, with its capital at Hushiwo’erduo, in what would later be Kyrgyzstan.

Over twenty thousand Han troops were dispersed and settled, most bringing their families to the four Northern Frontier prefectures, as these lands were closer to Han territories.

China was fractured, the Jurchens ruling the Central Plains; these wandering Han had lost their homeland and could only express longing from afar.

Against this backdrop, Li Xiao’s ancestors led their followers and families to the foothills of the Altai, founding Jinzhou.

On a plain south of the Dragonbone River, they built their home, naming it Hexi Fort.

They chose this spot not only for its proximity to the river and rich pastures.

More importantly, Li’s ancestor, employing some half-baked feng shui knowledge from an unknown source, discerned the presence of a dragon vein here and stubbornly stayed.

Now, fifty years later, the old generation of Yan-Yun Han soldiers had long turned to dust.

Li Xiao and his generation of Han had taken root here, spreading Han culture while blending with other ethnicities.

From his observations, Li Xiao believed the Northern Frontier Han no longer fit the pure agrarian mold.

While cultivating land, they also practiced pastoralism like the nomads, raising large herds of cattle, sheep, horses, and camels.

Given that the four Northern Frontier prefectures lay between the Tianshan and Altai Mountains, crossed by the Dragonbone and Irtysh Rivers, they were also adept at fishing and hunting.

To Li Xiao, the Northern Frontier Han had become a typical fishing and hunting people.

“Raising herds, fishing and hunting, men tilling fields, women weaving; rising with the sun and resting at dusk.”

“This is the life many dream of!”

“Sadly, such bliss will not last long.”

Li Xiao slowly sat up from the grass, still chewing foxtail grass, murmuring.

He crossed his legs and looked westward where the sun was setting like blood, the sky ablaze.

A breathtaking scene, yet after the sunset comes night.

To Li Xiao, this setting sun seemed to symbolize the Western Liao Empire at this moment.

Entering its twilight, about to utterly fall.

Who would bring about the fall of the once-mighty Western Liao?

The thirteenth century was imminent; who else could it be?

“The Mongols,” Li Xiao sighed, a headache forming.

It was the nineteenth year of Western Liao’s Tianmu era, 1198 AD.

Nine years ago, a man named Temüjin had become leader of the Kiyad tribe on the Mongolian Plateau.

He led his Mongol cavalry on campaigns east and west.

Eight years later, in 1206 AD, Temüjin unified the Mongol tribes and would soon set his sights on the Jin dynasty and Western Xia.

Yet the first to face destruction was Western Liao.

In 1218, Mongol generals Jebe and Subutai led twenty thousand horsemen to attack Western Liao.

At that time, Western Liao was embroiled in civil strife, its emperor a mere puppet, internal and external conflicts rampant, soldiers demoralized.

The Western Liao army was no match for the powerful Mongol cavalry.

Western Liao fell, and Central Asia came under Mongol rule.

What fate awaited the Han people of the Northern Frontier then?

The land was fertile with lush pastures, perfect for grazing; the Mongols would not overlook it.

“Submit or resist?”

“Heh…”

“Submissive my foot!”

In his past life, the Mongols occupied the Western Regions and ruled the Central Plains for over ninety years.

If nothing changed this time, Li Xiao felt his journey would be in vain.

Watching the fading light of sunset, Li Xiao shook his head and turned to the east.

At some unknown point, the eastern horizon had grown overcast, the winds reaching the Northern Frontier growing stronger.

Though the eastern clouds were still distant, Li Xiao knew they would soon reach the Northern Frontier, bringing storms and fierce winds.

He rose from the grass, facing the darkening clouds, and smiled gently.

“Even storm clouds can be scattered!”

Moreover, at this moment, Temüjin was still just an ‘entrepreneur,’ hidden in the shadow of Wang Khan, commanding only three to four thousand troops.

Eight years remained before he unified the Mongol Plateau, and twenty years before the Mongol hordes would march west.

Li Xiao still had time!

“Eight years!”

Gazing sharply at the eastern clouds, he whispered, “Before Temüjin unifies the Mongol Plateau, I must grow strong enough to stand against his Mongol cavalry.”

If so, Li Xiao might still have a chance to halt the rise of the Mongol Empire.

Otherwise, if he did not want to become a dog for the Mongols, he would have to flee to the South Asian subcontinent and become a Brahmin.

But imagining his descendants reeking of curry and carelessly defiling sandy beaches filled him with disgust.

It would be a disgrace to his ancestors!

Quickly banishing such thoughts, Li Xiao vowed never to let his descendants be assimilated by the “Third Brother.”

As Li Xiao pondered the future, a child’s shout rang out from afar.

“Brother! Brother! The wind is rising~”

“Time to go home~”