Lei Changming reached the mountains about a hundred li from Cizhou as a light rain began to fall. He did not rush his troops forward; instead, he established a base and began setting up camp.
“This looks like he intends a war of attrition,” Dantai Hu squatted in the grass, watching below. “By dragging out his force like this, no one can really gauge how many troops he has.”
“But they’ve lit countless campfires. Just looking at them is frightening,” Ding Tao said, circling the area where Lei Changming’s troops were stationed. “I scouted the nearby towns along the route; all report that he indeed brought over forty thousand men this time, and they’ve eliminated the local bandits near Cizhou along the way.”
“Half-truths make it impossible to discern the reality,” Xiao Chiyie said, standing and pushing aside the wet branches. “If he truly had that many men, why keep recruiting and absorbing others? An army preparing for battle fears last-minute replacements the most; it disrupts coordination, turning a disciplined force into a rabble.”
“That’s exactly what I suspect,” Dantai Hu said, following Xiao Chiyie out of the forest. “The more he wants others to believe he has forty thousand, the more insecure he actually is. Master, he’s afraid of us.”
Xiao Chiyie removed his cloak in the rain, tossing it to Ding Tao behind him, while strapping on his blade. “If he were truly afraid, he wouldn’t have come. This is bluffing—he’s using the rumor of his strength to intimidate, seeing that we came from Qudu.”
The Nanlin hunting grounds had not erupted into battle; the rebellion there was suppressed by Qi Zhuyin and the Qidong garrison, and on the surface, it seemed unrelated to Xiao Chiyie. The imperial army, formerly dismissed in Qudu as ineffective, had in recent years taken over local patrols, but they had never fought a proper battle. To Lei Changming, these young soldiers and Xiao Chiyie were mere novices.
“He underestimates us, which is our advantage. But if we underestimate him as well, we deserve to be struck. Lei Changming is no ordinary man; to dominate southeast Zhongbo, he must have his own prowess.” Xiao Chiyie vaulted onto his horse, reins in hand. “Dantai Hu, six years ago you fled from Dengzhou to Qudu. Now we’ve returned. Do you remember what I said when you brought your troops into the imperial army back then?”
Dantai Hu, rain falling over his eyes, looked up at Xiao Chiyie. “I’ve never forgotten, Master. You said the national humiliation is yet to be avenged, the family grievance still unresolved!”
“Correct,” Xiao Chiyie pulled his horse to a halt, eyes scanning the mass of men in the rain. “The Biansha cavalry destroyed several cities in Zhongbo. Li Bei’s cavalry and the Qidong garrison drove them off—but is the grievance truly avenged? To them, it was just a pastime. How do they speak in Qudu? ‘Better to be a dog than a servant of Zhongbo.’ Can the humiliation suffered under the butcher’s blade be handed over to others to cleanse? We’ve ridden through endless nights in our dreams. Lei Changming is the obstacle before us, and the chance to strike the Biansha cavalry is right here—do we lose?”
Victory and defeat are common to soldiers, yet no army willingly accepts perpetual defeat. In these six years, they had transformed from a scattered rabble into a disciplined, armored force. The imperial army was Xiao Chiyie’s shadow, buried in the golden dust alongside tens of thousands, like ants in the cracks of the world. Whatever others called them before—whether fools or incompetents—soon their blades would emerge from the sand.
A strong wind whipped the banners. Dantai Hu pressed his lips tight. “We will win.”
The rain’s patter grew louder.
Wiping his eyes roughly, Dantai Hu shouted hoarsely over the swelling voices behind them, “We will win!”
To win! From this battle until death, victory must be the sole thought of the imperial army. Facing seasoned foes, they would draw swords, spur horses, and defeat every enemy in their path. They could only win. Li Bei’s cavalry might fall, the Qidong garrison might fall, even Lei Changming’s forces could fall—but the imperial army and Xiao Chiyie could not. Freed from constraints yet left unsupported, failure meant death.
Xiao Chiyie turned his horse, wiping rain from his chin, sensing the smell of blood. He drew the blade, symbol of greed and ruthlessness, and said to the men behind him, “It’s our turn to feast.”
Rain splashed violently onto the ground.
Hearing that Cizhou’s envoy had arrived, Lei Changming received him in his tent.
“Mr. Chengfeng,” Lei Changming said from the tiger seat, cloak draped, surveying Kong Ling, “long time no see.”
Kong Ling bowed. “You, Lord, have often visited Cizhou in the past; we are old acquaintances. Why such a display this time?”
Lei Changming was not a brute. Scarred arms bare of decoration, plain attire, the hilt of his sword worn from use. Glancing suddenly, he seemed no different from the ordinary peasants of Zhongbo. Illiterate, exuding the aura of a life in the Jianghu, yet sharp and perceptive beneath.
He did not feign politeness. His eyes immediately fixed on Shen Zechuan. Smiling broadly, he said, “Since we are old acquaintances, Mr. Chengfeng, why bring the brocade-clad guards?”
Kong Ling’s expression remained composed. “Lord, your overwhelming forces surely wish to meet Your Lordship and Commissioner Shen. I take the liberty of introducing you. Commissioner Shen, this is Lei Changming, known across Zhongbo’s six prefectures, the Heaven-King of Duan and Dun. Lord, this is Shen Zechuan, personally elevated by Qudu, now among the emperor’s close aides.”
“Honored,” Lei Changming said, a spark of interest in his eyes. “Shen Zechuan, you are indeed the one. I heard you single-handedly eliminated Han Cheng’s elite troops during the closed-city siege. Now following Xiao Chiyie, not returning to Li Bei, instead mixing with Zhou Gui and the others? A proper prefecture cannot contain a killing god like you, can it?”
“I am a man of order,” Shen Zechuan said, lifting his right hand, revealing his side. “I came to see Lei Changming, yet I brought no blade.”
Lei Changming waved off the guards approaching Shen Zechuan, pointing at him. “You meet the emperor unarmed, yet for me, you act so devoted.” He laughed heartily. “Am I more honorable than the emperor?”
“Now the Empress Dowager governs, the court is weak; there is no emperor to speak of,” Shen Zechuan said with a smile. “Lord, your heroism is unmatched; I must observe proper etiquette.”
“You’ve stayed in Qudu long; all your words are flattering,” Lei Changming said, breaking a sweet potato from a plate and taking a bite. “Just speak plainly—why have you come to me?”
“I came to visit, and to discuss the future with you,” Shen Zechuan said, studying the tent. “Your camp outside Cizhou is not a long-term solution. If the imperial army delays, will you wait indefinitely?”
“You understand Xiao Chiyie better than I,” Lei Changming said, finishing the sweet potato. “His father and elder brother were renowned generals. How bad can he be? I’ll wait for him to negotiate. Cizhou is small; I can guess where he hides without searching. He occupies the city and doesn’t leave—I can’t enter. This must be resolved, right? I wait; I am not impatient.”
“His twenty thousand troops excel in mounted archery, rivaling Li Bei’s cavalry. Fighting him now is disadvantageous,” Shen Zechuan said, seeing the guards stir, smiling. “He holds the city, with the granary supporting him. You rely on your supply lines. Forty thousand men consume a staggering amount daily. The longer this drags, the more you lose. I’m sure you understand this better than I.”
“And so? I can afford it. The imperial army may fail? Cizhou’s granary is finite; Li Bei still battles in the north. Xiao Chiyie wants to return home. The longer it drags, I only lose money, but he risks his life. If he revolts, the Qidong garrison hasn’t. Qi Zhuyin’s arrival will take only half a month, making Li Bei’s cavalry anxious on both fronts. Qi Zhuyin is not easy; she once burned the Biansha throne. Taking Cizhou is trivial for her. Does Xiao Chiyie dare?” Lei Changming wiped his mouth, smiling casually, eyes cold. “Is he worthy?”
Shen Zechuan’s expression turned regretful. “If your reserves are truly that sufficient, I need not speak further today. Honestly, I came because I feared Marshal Qi might arrive at any moment, so I wished to discuss a business deal with you.”
Kong Ling paled slightly, stepping closer to Shen Zechuan. “Commissioner, we had no prior—”
“What business?” Lei Changming cut him off.
Shen Zechuan said, “If Xiao Chiyie passes through Cizhou smoothly, all is well. But you, Lord, have arrived with your troops; his twenty thousand are no longer my sole option. I wish to discuss a grain contract. I have two million silver coins, willing to invest in your supplies for this battle. In return, once you enter court service, you must protect my life before Han Cheng.”
Kong Ling’s face fell. “Shen Zechuan! How can you deceive us? Those two million were pledged to rebuild Cizhou’s garrison!”
“I only say willing,” Shen Zechuan said sincerely, tilting his head. “Not promised.”
Kong Ling grabbed Shen Zechuan’s sleeve. “You cheat us! You treacherous wretch!”
Lei Changming laughed again, leaning on his knees. “Truth or lie? Shen Zechuan, if you truly have that silver, could the imperial army have survived eating mud along the way? You’re trying to trick me, aren’t you?”
Kong Ling could not listen further, face flushed red, beard trembling, staring at Shen Zechuan in disbelief. “Your speech of generosity was false too? You! Using Zhongbo’s blood to trap us—is that even human?”
“Each to his own ambition,” Shen Zechuan said lazily. “Cizhou and the imperial army are already in a trap. Seeking a new master is only natural. Mr. Chengfeng, you understand best.”
“If you really have two million silver,” Lei Changming remained seated calmly, “help me rescue Han Jin, and I will ensure Han Cheng’s life.”
“I’ve already sent some silver,” Shen Zechuan said. “Lord, does this show sincerity?”