Chapter 405 Why Arrest Me?
Chapter 405 Why Arrest Me?
Chapter 405: On What Grounds Do You Arrest Me
Without further ado, he shot a look at the two sword-wielding guards and the other soldiers in the tent.
The guards and surrounding Palace Guards, though inwardly afraid of Wuliji's prowess, had no choice but to grit their teeth and charge at him with drawn blades from different directions under the Great Khan's stern command!
The flashing blades instantly wove a net of death.
But Wuliji moved.
His movements didn't look fast, but they had a beast's precision and ferocity.
As the first blade came down, he didn't dodge or avoid it. His left hand shot out like lightning, beating the blade to the punch, and grabbed the guard's wrist in an iron grip!
A sickening crack rang out as the guard's wrist bent at a weird angle.
He'd barely let out a scream when Wuliji's right hand followed through, his fingers clamping down on the man's throat like steel pincers, squeezing hard!
"Crunch..." The faint crunch of throat bones shattering was lost in the noise. The guard's eyes bulged, and he went silent in an instant.
With a flick of his arm, Wuliji hurled the hundred-plus-pound body aside like it was a bale of hay.
"Thud!" The body crashed heavily to the ground, rolling to a stop right next to the dead Northern Di old woman.
Two bodies—one old, one young, one man, one woman, one killed by scheming and coercion, the other by violent resistance—lay side by side on the ornate yet filthy carpet, their blood slowly mingling.
The sight, in the brightly lit royal tent, was bizarre and ironic in a way that was hard to put into words.
Hutuke stared at his guard, who had been full of life moments ago and was now a cold corpse at his feet. His face wasn't just ugly anymore—it was twisted into a nearly ferocious scowl!
For Wuliji to kill his guard right in front of him and toss the body somewhere so obvious was no longer defiance—it was a blatant slap in the face!
It was a brutal, crude way of tearing apart the terrifying authority Hutuke had just built!
"Wuliji!!!" Hutuke's chest heaved as he nearly roared, his voice shaking with fury. "What the hell do you mean by this?! Are you trying to rebel?!"
He stared hard at Wuliji, his eyes full of furious disbelief and a hint of fear he wouldn't admit to.
He couldn't figure out why this Uerha Tribe chief, who'd never been close to him but at least acted obedient, would today, for a few clansmen, keep putting up such stubborn, reckless resistance.
Wuliji stood there, shaking off blood that wasn't there, like he was just brushing off some dust.
Meeting Hutuke's murderous stare, he said two clear words: "Let them go."
Same demand as before—simple, direct, no room to negotiate.
Hutuke clenched his teeth so hard his gums nearly bled. He glared at Wuliji like he wanted to eat him alive.
The guards in the tent closed in again, but seeing their dead comrade on the ground, none of them dared to make the first move.
The tribal chiefs were scared out of their minds, huddled in the corners, not daring to breathe too loud.
Time dragged on in silent standoff, every second stretched tight like a drawn bowstring.
Hutuke knew that if he couldn't put Wuliji in his place today, his authority as Great Khan would be gone. Not only would the new tax become a joke, but other tribes might start thinking about rebelling too.
In the end, his fury and cold calculation mixed together, turning into a sinister, icy glint in his eyes.
He forced the order out through gritted teeth, word by word, his voice hoarse like a busted bellows:
"Go! Bring them... all of them to me!"
He wanted to see, when that guy was dragged up with a knife at his throat, how much longer Wuliji's stupid stubbornness would last!
He'd personally crush this defiance and make Wuliji—and everyone—know that on the Northern Di grasslands, crossing him, Hutuke, meant only one thing: death. Or worse!
The remaining guards in the tent, relieved to be spared from Wuliji's deadly rampage for now, quickly sent a few men rushing outside.
Wuliji's face tightened. Blood had spread across the tent floor, leaving dark, wet red stains on the edges of his leather boots.
Outside, there was the sound of hurried, dragging footsteps, then a young man's voice, barely holding back shock and anger.
"What are you doing?! Let go! What right do you have to arrest me?! Let go!"
The cold wind that blew in with the tent flap made the brazier fire flicker, casting dancing shadows.
Everyone turned to look as two burly guards dragged in a young man—hands tied behind his back, mouth gagged—stumbling in.
The young man was a bit skinny and slight compared to the sturdy grassland men. His face was deliberately smeared with dirt and his hair was a mess, but his features were still clearly recognizable.
He kicked and struggled, letting out muffled, angry grunts through the gag, looking completely wrecked.
Wuliji's eyes landed on that face. His pupils shrank, and something dark flickered in his gaze.
It was him. The Central Plains guy who'd been caught messing around with Yuli in the tent that day.
He'd ordered the guy taken away for punishment, but he'd gotten away.
Hutuke caught Wuliji's brief pause and the undercurrent in his eyes.
The frustration of being talked back to all day eased a lot, and a feeling of "got him by the balls" rose up in him.
He signaled to the two trusted men holding Zhou Ming. They got it and roughly dragged him to the middle of the royal tent, not far from Hutuke's throne, but right in front of Wuliji.
Zhou Ming was forced to stand there. The cloth in his mouth made it hard to breathe, so he just glared at everyone, finally fixing his eyes on Wuliji.
A nasty smug look flashed in Hutuke's eyes. He stepped up, and while Zhou Ming wasn't ready, suddenly raised his foot and kicked the back of his knee hard!
"Mmph—!" Zhou Ming roared "What the hell!" inwardly. Pain shot through his knee, and he couldn't hold himself up—"Thud!"—he slammed down onto his knees.
His kneecaps hit the hard ground so hard he saw stars. His face twisted, and cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
Wuliji watched Zhou Ming collapse in pain. His face stayed mostly blank, but his jaw seemed to tighten a little. His deep eyes were like a frozen lake, not a ripple in sight.
Hutuke saw he wasn't reacting and sneered inside: Acting tough, huh? He didn't hesitate. He raised his foot again, this time stepping directly onto Zhou Ming's arched back, pressing down hard!
Zhou Ming had just been trying to struggle back up through the pain when a heavy weight suddenly pressed down on his back, crushing his chest and nearly cutting off his breath.
His body, barely risen, was slammed back down with a "thud," his cheek scraping harshly against the cold, filthy, blood-stained carpet.
"?!?!" His mind buzzed, completely bewildered. What the hell is going on?!
The Palace Guards and the tribal chiefs in the corners involuntarily winced, as if feeling the pain themselves. This Central Plains kid was in for a world of trouble.
Zhou Ming's mind was a chaotic mess. The suffocation and pain dulled his thinking, but survival instinct forced him to rack his brain desperately.
He struggled to roll his eyes, darting his gaze between the grim-faced Hutuke and the coldly observing Wuliji.
In a flash of insight, an absurd yet seemingly "reasonable" thought popped into his head—
That's it! It must be Wuliji! This barbarian chief definitely still holds a grudge about that whole "seduction" thing!
And Hutuke has been having tense relations with the other tribes lately, especially with Wuliji—they're on really bad terms...
So now, it's most likely that Hutuke, to ease tensions with Wuliji or even win him over, deliberately grabbed me—this "thorn in Wuliji's side"—as a peace offering, an apology gift!
Damn it! Zhou Ming was cursing up a storm. He'd told A Ge ages ago this kind of thing was a bad idea—it could blow up in their faces!
And now it had burned him to a crisp! There was no coming back from this!
Sharp pain shot through his back and knees as Hutuke's boot heel kept grinding down without mercy.
Zhou Ming's face was deathly pale, he could barely breathe. His face was pressed hard against the carpet, almost squashed flat, with a little blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.
Wuliji watched the scene, his frown deepening. He had no idea what Hutuke was playing at.
But Hutuke read his solemn, puzzled look as undeniable proof of "heartache barely held in check"!
Hutuke sneered inwardly, even more pleased. He pressed down harder, then slowly moved his foot up, planting his sole on the back of Zhou Ming's head and grinding his whole face into the blood- and dust-stained carpet.
"Wuliji," Hutuke's voice was cold and sinister, dripping with a sickening sense of total control.
"You've always been the most loyal, honorable man on the steppe. Surely... you wouldn't want anything bad to happen to this 'friend' of yours, right?"
Wuliji thought it was utterly absurd. Biting back his irritation and wariness, he asked in a low voice, "What do you want?"
Hearing Wuliji "finally" speak, and in a tone that seemed to "soften," Hutuke figured he was about to give in. Greatly reassured, he immediately laid out his conditions, his voice calm but every word a knife:
"I'm not an unreasonable man. All you have to do is agree to two things: First, deliver the extra twenty percent of cattle and sheep to the royal court in full.
"Second," he paused, his eyes flashing, "you, Wuliji, will leave the Uerha Tribe right now and swear eternal loyalty to me!
Do what I say, and I'll let him go, I promise he won't be hurt!"
The moment these words were spoken, a muffled gasp rippled through the royal tent!
The tribal chiefs cowering in the corner looked up, shocked, staring at Hutuke in disbelief.
Demanding extra livestock was already a brutal squeeze, but forcing Wuliji to leave his own tribe?!
A chief leaving his tribe was basically exile—cutting off his own roots, crueler than just killing him!
This was a plot to completely destroy Wuliji and swallow up the Uerha Tribe!
That was exactly what Hutuke wanted. Wuliji's prestige among the Northern Di was too high, his pull too strong—he couldn't be allowed to keep growing.
The best move was to kick him out of his tribe, stripping him of his power base.
Once that happened, the Uerha Tribe would be leaderless, and the royal court could swoop in to divide, control, and absorb it.
And Wuliji, without his tribe, no matter how fierce he was, would be nothing but a featherless eagle—no matter how hard he flapped, he couldn't fly, and in the end, he'd have to depend on Hutuke.
Wuliji slowly raised his eyes to Hutuke. His face instantly froze over, like a sheet of frost had settled on it.
The heavy, oppressive aura radiating off him made the nearest guards instinctively step back half a step.
He stepped forward. Just one step.
Hutuke's heart lurched—that familiar chill of facing absolute power hit him again.
Almost without thinking, he yanked his foot off Zhou Ming's head, bent down, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, and hoisted him off the ground like a helpless chick!
His other hand shot out like lightning, clamping down hard on Zhou Ming's slender neck!
Zhou Ming: (!!!)
"Gah—!" Caught completely off guard, Zhou Ming's feet left the ground. The iron grip around his throat cut off his air instantly. His eyes bulged, his bound hands useless, and he could only kick his legs feebly as his face went from pale to blue.
Hutuke held Zhou Ming in front of him like a fragile human shield, glaring at Wuliji with wary ferocity, his voice shaking slightly from tension and effort:
"Stop right there! Take one more step, and I'll snap his neck!"