Chapter Forty-Eight: Ashina Zanghe

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Li Zisheng pondered deeply over the hidden intricacies of the matter, especially the complexities involved here. The tangled web was terrifying upon closer reflection.

Indeed, many incidents had transpired within this situation.

Yet, Deng Qing’s endurance was truly formidable. Even Li Zisheng himself admired this greatly. Having endured so much, Deng Qing’s virtue evidently matched his official rank.

However, Deng Qing’s profound and calculating mind was entirely natural. Without such depth, he could never have maintained control over the Lingzhou military camp.

This time, Zhang Hongde’s killing of the Turkic deputy leader could be seen as a decisive move to break the deadlock—perhaps even deliberately orchestrated by Deng Qing himself. Such a staged event was not beyond possibility.

The reason lay in Deng Qing’s current predicament. He seized this opportunity to deal with the Zhou family—perhaps targeting those behind them. Yet, with the academy director’s forced release and other suppressions, Deng Qing had no choice but to seek a way out of the current crisis.

Now, having found trouble with the Turks, he had to postpone the literary competition. Only when the contestants recovered fully could the chances of success improve greatly.

This was a perfectly reasonable course of action—delaying the contest outright.

But if the sole purpose were to delay the competition, killing the Turkic deputy leader seemed too high a price, hardly worthwhile. What Deng Qing’s true intentions were remained a mystery to Li Zisheng, yet the act clearly benefited Deng Qing more than it harmed him.

Moreover, Deng Qing certainly knew about the horse riot within Lingzhou’s military camp and understood it had nothing to do with the Turks. In fact, he must have reached some sort of balance with the Turkic side.

It seemed Zhang Hongde’s life was doomed. Li Zisheng felt deeply moved by Zhang Hongde’s fate—ultimately just a pawn to be sacrificed.

“Mr. Zhong, do you have time now to accompany me to the Turkic camp?”

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Deng Qing paid no attention to the kneeling soldier below. Just as Li Zisheng suspected, the young soldier was merely an actor. The reason he charged in as Li Zisheng and Mr. Zhong were leaving was likely to ensure only the two of them remained.

The whole performance boiled down to one goal: to keep Mr. Zhong there. Upon reaching the Turks, Mr. Zhong was intended to be used as a pawn against the Turkic side.

Fury blazed in Mr. Zhong’s eyes; clearly, he was still resentful over one of their generals being captured by the Turks.

So when Deng Qing suggested going together to the Turks, Mr. Zhong immediately agreed.

Though Li Zisheng did not understand why the usually shrewd and composed Mr. Zhong was so entangled in this matter that even he found it baffling.

Judging by Mr. Zhong’s age, he must have endured the Turkic conflicts firsthand. He had undoubtedly suffered greatly at their hands, which explained his deep-seated hatred and desire to settle the score swiftly.

Since Mr. Zhong was going, Li Zisheng had no reason to stay behind. Perhaps this journey to the Turks would also allow him to see the young Asina girl, to check on her condition and any improvement. Even if they failed to meet, there might be unexpected discoveries.

Accompanied by several soldiers for protection, Li Zisheng followed Deng Qing and Mr. Zhong, striding purposefully toward the Turkic camp.

Unlike the Tang army camp, the Turks highly esteemed martial prowess, and their customs were fierce. Upon entering their encampment, even with the sun setting and dusk approaching, the Turks were still vigorously training their horses and soldiers.

Li Zisheng admired their diligence but harbored no fondness, knowing well that in the early days of Tang’s founding, the Turks had been a constant source of trouble—countless massacres and horse raids stained their history with blood.

Thus, Mr. Zhong’s hatred of the Turks was entirely understandable.

“Asina Zanghe? Come out.”

Mr. Zhong, known for his fiery temper, shouted the Turkic leader’s name loudly at the camp’s gate.

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Li Zisheng clicked his tongue in surprise. The usually mild-mannered Mr. Zhong was uncharacteristically irritable, showing no patience whatsoever.

“Isn’t this the little brat from back then? If I’m not mistaken, you must be Zhong Bai,” came a voice from the camp.

Out stepped an elderly man clad in a luxurious brocade hat and sable coat, his silver hair and beard framing a high, prominent nose—resembling an old, wealthy landowner. Yet, despite his appearance, his face bore the marks of many hardships.

Though Li Zisheng did not know Mr. Zhong’s exact age, he was certainly no youngster. Yet this old man still called him “little brat,” suggesting he had lived through even older times.

“Hmph, once the Turkic military god, now reduced to a mere gatekeeper for your master—truly pathetic,” Mr. Zhong sneered at the old man without a shred of respect.

“After all these years, the little brat still has the same temper,” the old man replied, clearly unwilling to argue. Instead, he regarded Mr. Zhong with the patience of an elder.

Such words only stoked Mr. Zhong’s rage.

“You old curmudgeon, if it weren’t for Emperor Taizong sparing your life back then, you’d never be so arrogant today. But I suppose your days are numbered. I heard you came this time seeking healing from our Tang Medicine King, Wei Cizang. Hmph, even if he saved you, it would be pointless. You’d be better off returning to your former master now, rather than meddling here and ending up torn to pieces.”

Mr. Zhong’s words were harsh and venomous. Even Li Zisheng frowned at the cruelty. Yet when he glanced at Deng Qing, he saw only calm and composure, as if Deng Qing had anticipated this confrontation all along. This was somewhat unexpected.