Chaotong's Taunts and Niancha's Fury
 
A few days later, Chaotong, the commander of Mayu, dressed in full armor, stood in the Ling camp and loudly boasted. Standing on his stirrups and clenching his teeth, he shouted:
 
“Hey, you thirty so-called heroes of Ling! You’ve only managed to kill a few grass-cutters and wood-gatherers from Hor, and you think that’s impressive? If you’re really so capable, why haven’t you killed the White Tent King yet? Killing random people while ignoring the White Tent King means nothing—you’re just sowing more seeds of sin.
 
If you want to prove your strength, why not defeat Dochin? If you want to show off your archery, why not take Tangze’s life? If you think your blade is sharp, why not cut off Meiruze’s head? And if you think your horse is fast, why haven’t you captured the White Tent King? If you can’t do these things and claim your victories, then even children can tie lambs, women can shear sheep, old grannies can slit the throats of cattle, and sisters-in-law can race horses. These comparisons suit you perfectly!
 
In the entire Ling camp, the only one truly capable of achieving something is me, the old man Chaotong!”
 
This open taunt, filled with insults, was ignored by the heroes of Ling. Even the Lion King and King Senlun, the father of Jiacha Xiega, tried to calm Chaotong down, saying, “Chaotong, if someone must go to battle, let Adan handle it.”
 
Chaotong, however, was enraged. He cursed loudly, “That foolish boy Adan! He doesn’t know right from wrong, just like you, Senlun, an old fool with a black heart! You’re like the chief steward, an old dog who does everything without thinking. And Jue Ru—he’s no better. If you send Adan to fight, he’ll accomplish nothing, just like you, Senlun!
 
The descendants of the Mubudong clan—only Jiacha is like me. As his uncle, I’m the fierce tiger, and he’s the snow lion of the mountains. Isn’t that true? But you and your nephew are just filled with the stench of filth. Stop your sweet-talking and nonsense, Senlun!”
 
Instead of anger, Chaotong’s tirade amused the Ling heroes, and they broke into loud laughter. Humiliated and furious, Chaotong whipped his horse and galloped off. While crossing the Yellow River, he was nearly swept away by the current. Once ashore, he charged toward the eastern gate of the Hor camp.
 
Meiruze from the Sinba division spotted him and shouted, “He’s here! He’s here! Kill him! Rip out his heart!” Terrified, Chaotong quickly removed the golden plume, banners, and ornaments from his white helmet. He replaced them with a white horsehair tassel taken from his quiver to disguise himself. Then, he circled around to the western gate, dismounted, and entered the camp.
 
Niancha’s Lament and Resolve
 
The Ling people, seeing this situation, were confused and at a loss for words. They sat silently as Niancha Adan, fully armored and carrying an assortment of weapons, mounted his horse “Snow Mountain Surge” and rode to the center of the camp. He spoke with sorrow:
 
“Ah, my thirty brothers of Ling! Did you see the disgraceful actions of my father, Chaotong? There is bound to be chaos within Ling—fathers killing sons and sons killing fathers!”
 
Then, with deep grief, he began to sing:
 
“In the eight divisions of Changxi Seba,
In the Upper Darong Ducuodi,
The chief is Niben Daya,
His advisor is Anu Sipan,
And the brave man is me, Niancha.
 
But there has never been such disgraceful behavior.
My father, Chaotong, that stinking fox,
Spoke boldly in the Ling camp,
But when he reached the Hor camp,
He replaced his golden plume with a white horsehair tassel,
As if he were a close friend of the Hor.
 
He would hand over the people of Ling and the golden stupa,
To the White Tent King.
He would trade his family and the ancestral lightning sword,
For fatty meat to fill his stomach!
 
He brings worry to Ling’s uncles,
Disgrace to the Mubudong clan,
Shame to his brothers,
And humiliation to his nephews.
 
The ancestral legacy supported by thirty heroes,
Will all be destroyed by Chaotong.
The castles and temples built by the divine people,
Will be toppled by Seba Chaotong.
 
In the tiger-skin quiver filled with sacred arrows,
Chaotong is like a useless fire poker mixed in.
While the divine people look eastward,
He alone turns his face westward.
 
The heroes are like the six healing medicines,
But Chaotong is like the poison aconite among them.
Ling is like pure white silk,
But Chaotong smears grease upon it.
 
He will lead the enemy to our gates,
And the sacred city of Ling will likely fall.
He is the black wind that brings storms,
He is the sheep that invites the wolves.
 
The sacred Ling Gabu of the East,
Will not rest unless Chaotong is smashed like hail upon thatch.
There is a saying:
‘Losing faith in one’s parents is unbearable,
Breaking a golden Buddha leaves none to protect you,
And being humiliated by your kin is intolerable.’
 
My father has done such evil deeds,
Of course the White Tent King grows more arrogant.
The White Tent King of Hor and Chaotong,
Are both mortal enemies of Ling.
 
They won’t fold their hands in prayer to the right,
Nor offer sacred water to the left.
They will do no good deeds.
 
Though I am Chaotong’s son,
I will trample him beneath my feet.
If I meet him on a mountaintop, I will kill him like a wild deer.
If I meet him in a valley, I will kill him like a yellow goat.
If I meet him by the river, I will kill him like a fish.
 
I will smash his nose and collapse his eyes.
I will fill his insides with blood.
Whether I chop off the White Tent King’s head,
Or cut off Chaotong’s head,
Either one will be a great victory.
 
In my heart as a man,
I have decided to sever my father-son bond.
No matter who kills whom,
Niancha will be remembered as a hero.
 
Whether it’s the Hor White Tent King,
Or the Mayu Commander Chaotong,
Today, beneath my sword,
They are both the same.
 
Their blood will flow like water,
Their heads will be tied to my horse’s tail.
May my loyal and sincere heart
Fulfill my ambitious dream.
 
Even if I don’t meet the White Tent King,
Chaotong will surely return.
May the deed I do today,
Spread far and wide in this world.
 
If I do not eliminate this treacherous traitor,
Then I, Niancha, am no true hero!”
 
After singing, Niancha rode forward, crossed the Yellow River, and charged directly toward the Hor camp.
 
Niancha's Duel and Jiacha’s Bold Attack
 
The White Tent King saw someone storming toward the camp and immediately asked Chaotong, “Hey! Another rider on a white horse has charged out from the Ling camp. Who is it?”
 
Chaotong recognized his son and quickly responded, “Great White Tent King! That rider on the white horse is my eldest son, Niancha, one of the six sons of Chaotong, the commander of Mayu. That horse is the mighty steed ‘Snow Mountain Surge.’ In terms of courage, he is no different from Jiacha, and in terms of skill, they are equally matched. If he charges into the Hor camp, he will not bring any good, especially for you or me. If we need to escape, we’d better find somewhere to run or hide quickly!”
 
Chaotong’s pleading, fox-like words spilled out of his mouth, causing panic among the Hor soldiers. The camp became chaotic, and Dochin said, “This rider on the white horse must not be allowed to enter the camp. We should intercept him halfway by sending a fierce Sinba warrior along with a thousand soldiers to surround and attack him.”
 
Sinba warrior Gongjie, mounted on a white warhorse with a helmet adorned with a white plume resembling clouds, led a thousand soldiers from the Chabao and Chaxiao tribes. The ground cracked under the pounding hooves, stones flew in all directions, and gusts of wind sent dust swirling. The soldiers surged forward in waves.
 
When Gongjie was about an arrow’s length away from Niancha, he shouted, “Hey, little beggar from the Ling camp! Are you here to seek death or to deliver your head? Don’t panic—I’ll deal with you right now!” With that, Gongjie fired an arrow.
 
Niancha whipped his horse, causing it to leap sideways, dodging the arrow just in time. He then fired three arrows in rapid succession, killing many black- and white-plumed soldiers. Drawing his green-hilted nine-layered golden treasure blade, he charged forward. The Hor soldiers panicked and fled. Gongjie, preparing to shoot another arrow, found Niancha already upon him. With a swift swing of his blade, Niancha struck Gongjie, who tumbled head-over-heels from his horse like a sacrificial offering.
 
Niancha continued his charge, scattering the remaining Hor soldiers, who fled back to the camp. Unscathed, both Niancha and his horse crossed the Yellow River and returned to the Ling camp.
 
Chaotong and the White Tent King, finally daring to emerge from hiding, were still worried about Niancha’s safety. Chaotong nervously asked his attendants, “Where is that rider on the white horse? Where did he go?” But no one answered, as they were all preoccupied with their own survival.
 
Jiacha’s Bold Challenge and Victory
 
After another seven or eight days, Bemba Jiacha prepared for battle. He loaded his tiger-skin bag on the right side with silver cups, equipped his leopard-skin bag on the left with a treasured bow, and strapped the renowned Yasi treasure blade to his waist. Mounted on his white warhorse, "Jiaxia," he crossed the Yellow River and stopped near the Hor camp. Pulling his horse to a halt, he stood on his stirrups and called out to the camp:
 
“Listen here, White Tent Dog King of Hor! If you’re truly brave, come out and face me. If you have a good bow, shoot it at me. If you have a fine blade, swing it at me. Don’t just hide in your stone caves like a coward.
 
You Hor White Tent rulers and ministers! Either surrender your bodies and heads to me, or drop your saddles, lay out your rugs, and prepare some tea to serve me. Better yet, offer gifts quickly—otherwise, I’ll send your souls to the afterlife!”
 
Jiacha’s taunts terrified the White Tent King of Hor, who trembled all over and didn’t even dare to breathe loudly. He quietly hid in a corner. The Sinba warriors and soldiers pretended to string their bows and brandish their weapons, but no one dared to step forward.
 
Jiacha charged into the Hor camp, slashing left and right. The soldiers abandoned their helmets and armor and fled in all directions. Jiacha cut down Hor warriors and horses, leaving chaos in his wake.
 
As Jiacha pursued the fleeing soldiers toward the outskirts of the camp, Baturu Qiangla appeared. Qiangla wore a blood-red helmet, carried blades and arrows at his waist, and rode a black warhorse as swift as the wind. Wielding his long spear, he charged straight at Jiacha, shouting:
 
“Bold young warrior of Ling! If you are truly wise, you should know when to stop. Reckless bravery will cost you your life! Oh, mighty War God of the Sinba, Jue La, protect me today! Let me melt this white man and his white horse like snow beneath the sun!”
 
With that, Qiangla lunged toward Jiacha.
 
Jiacha tightened his armor and prepared for combat. Though Qiangla thrust his spear three times in quick succession, Jiacha’s armor was strong, and with the protection of the War God’s purple sash, the spear couldn’t pierce him. Seizing the opportunity, Jiacha swung his treasured blade and sliced Qiangla’s spear in half.
 
Realizing the situation was hopeless, Qiangla turned his horse and fled. Jiacha, swinging his blade, chased after him, but Qiangla and his horse managed to escape into the Hor camp.
 
Jiacha thought to himself, “Never chase a desperate enemy. Today’s battle ends here. There will be other opportunities to let him taste the power of my Yasi treasure blade!” With that, Jiacha returned to the Ling camp.
 
Notes:

White Offering: A type of offering made from tsampa (roasted barley flour) that is not colored or dyed.