The so-called 阏氏 was the Xiongnu term for the Han court’s marriage alliance princess, equivalent to the Han people’s empress. However, the 阏氏 had no power among the Xiongnu, enjoying only an empty, exalted status.

The Xiongnu were now extremely powerful, but they still lacked the ability to swallow the prosperous Central Plains. Andrew Jackson understood this very well, so after the plundering, he wanted to withdraw his troops. The Han’s regional armies were gathering in this direction; he had already delivered his warning to the Han court, and had set fire to the Han emperor’s palace (Ganquan Palace) as the strongest deterrent. There was no point in dragging things out any further.

“After we withdraw, send an envoy to the Han court. The old emperor is dead, so tell that snot-nosed young emperor: since the beginning of the Han, the Han and Xiongnu have always been uncle and nephew nations. Tell him to send me a real princess! If he doesn’t send a real princess, I, the Chanyu, will personally lead 300,000 cavalry to Chang’an and seize one myself. By then, it won’t be settled with just a mere princess!”

In fact... Andrew Jackson led his army south this time out of resentment for the Han’s fake marriage alliance incident a few years ago, wanting to take advantage of the Han emperor’s illness to take revenge on the Han court.

After Andrew Jackson issued the order to withdraw, the Han people who had been herded together by the Xiongnu were separated into groups: the old and weak in one pile, the women in another, and the strong men were bound under the threat of blades and spears. They were driven to the wastelands of the border regions, herded like livestock by Xiongnu soldiers wielding sharp blades, and forced into temporary sheep pens set up by the Xiongnu.

The Xiongnu felt the old and weak were useless to bring back to the grasslands, so they dragged the elderly Han people to an open area, loudly praising the “Kunlun God” for granting them a great victory. The old and weak were made to kneel in long rows, and the Xiongnu soldiers standing behind them raised their curved blades and chopped down swiftly, just like cutting weeds. Heads rolled everywhere under the force of the blows, the green grasslands changed color, and what stained the blades of grass was no longer clear dew—clumps of once-bright green grass were now soaked with Han blood!

……

Samuel Harris was watching. He stood at the edge of the sheep pen’s wooden fence, eyes wide open, watching the slaughter in the distance, watching those innocent old people and children forced to kneel and then beheaded amid cries and wails. No one could remain unmoved by such a tragedy. His eyes were wide, his teeth clenched, and unconsciously he had bitten through his lip, a trickle of blood dripping from his chin onto his strong chest.

The northern border wind was like a knife, cutting into the skin, the gale blowing, dead grass and yellow sand swirling together. But no amount of dead grass or sand could hide the inhuman massacre. Headless corpses were carried and stacked by the Xiongnu soldiers, and as the bodies piled up, they gradually formed a mountain of blood and tears of the Han people, so heavy it was suffocating.

Why was it like this!? Samuel Harris’s mind was in chaos. He didn’t know why he had suddenly appeared here; he only knew that he had just arrived, and in less than half a month had already become the property of the Xiongnu.

He was a paratrooper of the Republic. During a mission, he lost consciousness after jumping from a transport plane, and when he woke up, he was in this completely unfamiliar place. He wandered aimlessly for half a month, until a kind old man took him in. At that time, the only thing he had to his name was a military dagger.

It was a dagger less than four inches long, no wider than two fingers, with a green leather sheath. The handle, cast with a series of raised rings, was engraved with a brightly colored emblem: a circular ring with grain-like edges, inside which was a bright red five-pointed star, and within the star were two Chinese characters—‘八一’. The sheath was inscribed with two other characters: ‘Samuel Harris’.

The slaughter in the distance continued. The Xiongnu liked to use massacres to tell the newly enslaved Han people: you must obey your master, the master is supreme, and the only outcome for disobedience is death!

Samuel Harris clenched his fists as he watched the slaughter ahead, watching his fellow Han people die under the Xiongnu’s curved blades. He looked back at the other Han men who were also bound, and saw the humiliation in their eyes, all of them gritting their teeth. Among the old and weak being killed in the distance might be their own elderly parents or young children.

Under the vast sky and desolate earth, the strong preying on the weak always seemed so natural. In the distance, the corpses piled up like mountains, and on the ground, several blood channels formed from the pooling blood. In the desolate borderlands, nothing was more vivid than the color of those blood channels. They spoke not only of the inhuman slaughter, but also carved an indelible mark in the heart of the entire Han people—humiliation!

Chapter Two: Hatred That Cuts to the Bone!

“Mother!!!”

Suddenly, a young man of about twenty cried out and fell heavily to his knees. His hands were tied behind his back, and he shuffled on his knees, crying “my mother” as he pressed himself against the edge of the sheep pen’s wooden fence, tears streaming down his face in helplessness. Suddenly, he slammed his throat against a sharp wooden spike protruding from the fence. Blood spurted out, splattering a patch of crimson on Samuel Harris’s camouflage pants. The young man’s throat was pierced, and his voice no longer sounded human: “Hate... to be... Han... in this life!” With those words, he died.

Samuel Harris looked at the young man’s eyes, still open in death, and shuddered all over, as if something had been triggered. He muttered repeatedly, “Hate to be Han in this life?”