His brief yet brilliant life was like a shooting star…
So, it turned out that Tuoba Xiao entered Chang’an on this very day.
Tuoba Xiao—the current ruler of the Xianbei royal court of Mobei.
Historical records state: Tuoba Xiao, King of Mobei, was of mixed Han and Hu descent and born into humble origins. At sixteen, he rose to prominence. In just three years, he unified the steppe. He then personally traveled to Chang’an to marry a princess of Liang, forging an alliance between the two states—a story long praised. Sadly, heaven envied his talent; he died young at just twenty-three.
From what Jiang Congyan knew, Tuoba Xiao was the seventh son of the former Xianbei king, Tuoba Ta. His mother’s identity was unknown, only that she was a Han woman—likely taken to the steppe by force.
Because of his mixed heritage and low birth, he was never favored by Tuoba Ta. As a child, he was almost invisible, and his half-Han blood made him the target of constant bullying. His early life was extremely difficult.
Yet at sixteen, he emerged with overwhelming force, rising amid the chaos of the royal court’s power struggles to claim the throne.
After that, he gathered strong troops and waged campaigns in all directions. With iron-handed methods, he crushed surrounding enemies. In just three years, he defeated all Xianbei tribes and neighboring groups, unifying the steppe and becoming a dominant overlord.
The name Tuoba Xiao thus shook the world.
Some tribes, upon merely hearing he was coming, were so terrified they surrendered without a fight—like lambs awaiting slaughter, throwing down their armor and weapons before his horse.
At that time, he was only twenty.
Then he personally came to Liang to seek a princess, forming an alliance between the two nations.
Later historians speculated that perhaps because his mother was Han, he admired Han culture and thus sought marriage with Liang. Had he not died young and maintained the alliance, Liang might not have fallen so quickly—perhaps it could have endured until a wise ruler emerged to restore its glory.
But alas—heaven envies talent.
Among the many brilliant figures of that era, Tuoba Xiao was undoubtedly the most dazzling.
Powerful, extraordinary, and short-lived, his life carried the tragic aura of a heroic legend. Countless literary and film works would later draw inspiration from him, bringing wider attention to what was otherwise an unremarkable historical period.
Unfortunately, due to the chaos of the times, much historical material was lost. Later generations could only imagine his appearance from fragmented records.
His brief yet radiant life was like a bright meteor—blazing across the dark sky before vanishing into endless night.
When Jiang Congyan once read this passage in history books, she had wondered: if Tuoba Xiao had not died young, would history have taken a different turn?
Now she knew the answer—no.
The course of history is never determined by a single individual. The fall of Liang had already been set in motion more than a decade earlier.
A nation is like a massive ship. When it shows signs of sinking, the lower decks are already flooded—it cannot be saved by patching a few holes.
Moreover, compared to the admiration of later generations, the current Liang court did not view Tuoba Xiao favorably. They regarded him with caution and suspicion.
After all, he was the king of the Hu.
The alliance between Mobei and Liang existed only because they did not directly border each other, with other tribes lying in between. It was an alliance of convenience.
Should circumstances change, Jiang Congyan believed either side would tear up the agreement without hesitation.
Tuoba Xiao’s reputation was immense. Of all the rumors about him, two stood out most—his military record and his appearance.
Since taking the field, he had never been defeated.
He excelled in commanding troops and often led charges himself. With unparalleled martial skill, wielding a silver-feathered spear, he possessed the strength of ten thousand men. In every battle, he could personally behead enemy leaders.
Thus, among the people of Liang, tales spread: he stood nine chi tall, with a leopard’s head, bronze eyes, a swallow’s jaw, and a tiger’s beard—like a fierce tiger in motion.
Though few had seen him, fear had already taken root.
In some places, merely mentioning his name could stop a crying child.
Now, as the herald cavalry announced the arrival of the King of Mobei, the crowd at the city gate paled.
Like a receding tide, people hurriedly moved aside, leaving a wide path.
“I heard the King of Mobei has come to Chang’an to seek a marriage alliance?”
“How can a royal princess be wed to such a barbarian? Alas!”
“I say he harbors wolfish ambition—he eyes the Central Plains.”
“Our Liang has stood for forty years—this is the first time we offer a daughter for peace. If the founding emperor knew, how heartbroken he would be!”
“Lower your voice! You know the current emperor isn’t of the founding line!”
“So what? It’s the truth…”
Hearing the murmurs, Jiang Congyan let out a cold laugh inwardly.
The current Emperor of Liang was extremely sensitive to such remarks.
He had inherited the throne from Emperor Guang, who was the younger brother of the founding Emperor Wu. Originally, the crown prince had died young, and his son—Jiang Huai—was only twelve. To stabilize the realm, the throne had passed to Emperor Guang instead.
Years later, when choosing an heir, some had proposed Jiang Huai—the rightful grandson—but the current emperor ascended the throne instead. Though successful, he never forgot that challenge to his legitimacy.
Even mentioning those events could provoke his displeasure.
Jiang Congyan, reborn, was none other than the daughter of Jiang Huai.
In such troubled times, being born into royalty might seem fortunate—but it also meant living in constant danger.
The cavalry thundered toward the gate.
As they approached, the leading rider pulled sharply on the reins. His horse reared, hooves suspended midair. At a gesture from him, the entire formation halted in perfect unison.
The ground trembled beneath hundreds of hooves.
Some nearby onlookers were so frightened they fell backward.
Yet despite their fearsome presence, the Mobei forces slowed as they entered the gate, their horses now walking at a steady pace.
Even so, over a hundred armored cavalrymen were enough to silence the crowd.
The earlier chatter vanished, replaced by the rhythmic sound of hooves and the clink of armor.
The atmosphere turned tense.
Curious about the legendary King of Mobei, Jiang Congyan leaned out from her carriage to look.
He rode alone at the front. Behind him, two lines of cavalry marched in formation, each holding massive black banners that snapped in the wind like a black dragon coiled upon the earth.
Her gaze fell first upon his face.
Though young, he did not look boyish. A light beard shadowed his jaw, adding a rugged edge. His brow was pronounced, his eyebrows sharp and angled. His deep-set eyes—distinctively Hu—were a cold, piercing green, like blades.
Even at rest, they inspired fear—an instinctive urge to submit.
This was the aura forged on countless battlefields.
He wore no royal robes or crown. Seated upright on his warhorse, clad in armor, his tall frame looked even more imposing.
He didn’t look like an envoy—he looked like a king inspecting his domain.
For a moment, Jiang Congyan felt he seemed familiar—like the Hu man she had encountered days before.
But… the horse was different. The aura wasn’t exactly the same. And geographically, their paths shouldn’t have crossed.
Perhaps just a resemblance.
She kept watching.
Aside from Tuoba Xiao, the other hundred riders were all powerful and disciplined. Even those holding banners had muscles taut as iron.
The Xianbei cavalry was not to be underestimated.
Tuoba Xiao sensed the many gazes upon him—but paid them no mind. Still, one particular gaze caught his attention. Just as he turned to find it—
A group of officials hurried out from the city.
The lead envoy, sweating profusely, dismounted at once and bowed deeply.
“Forgive my delay, Your Majesty!”
“I arrived early. My horse runs too fast,” Tuoba Xiao replied casually.
The envoy forced a smile, flattering him nervously.
Jiang Congyan watched everything from her carriage.
Seeing the envoy’s overly submissive attitude, she felt disdain.
This was a high-ranking official—yet in their own capital, he behaved so obsequiously.
After brief formalities, the envoy led Tuoba Xiao to Fanglin Garden, a royal estate prepared for his stay.
Once they left, the city gate buzzed again with speculation.
It seemed certain—the court intended to marry off a princess.
But which one? No one knew.
There were three eligible princesses of age.
As for which one would be chosen—history had never recorded it.
And Jiang Congyan believed… it had nothing to do with her.