The personal guards had already left the camp when they saw the Imperial troops charging in like a pack of wolves. This force was driven more by excitement than fear—they hadn’t fought a truly satisfying battle yet. In both Qu Du and Zhong Bo, they had been restrained at every turn. Finally, they encountered Han Jin’s Eight Regiments, and the enemy had been like dough under pressure—molded and crushed at will. Now, facing the Bian Sha soldiers, they surged forward like madmen; the Imperial troops drew their blades and ran.
The Bian Sha Liao Ying unit was small in number. They had relied on catapults to ambush the Bian Bo camp, achieving initial success, and victory seemed within reach. But then this unexpected force struck them, catching them off guard.
The Imperial troops were accustomed to urban warfare in Qu Du. Their blades were shorter than the Li Bei Cavalry’s, but they struck with precision. Before Xiao Chiye became governor of the Imperial troops, the unit was incomplete; its core in Qu Du had another name: “military registry slackers”—the most cunning and lazy of soldiers. In other words, they were slippery and resourceful. They didn’t fight like the Li Bei Cavalry, solid and straight; they exploited gaps in enemy lines, striking at vulnerable points.
Now, Bian Sha was suddenly on the defensive. The returning personal guards cut off their retreat, while those with the catapults withdrew quickly. The Bian Sha soldiers left in the Bian Bo camp had no choice but to fight to the death.
By the time Wu Ziyu could stand, the flames had subsided. Chen Yang lifted his blade and checked the bodies. “Master, these are indeed from the Liao Ying unit.”
“The catapults are heavy and hard to move. If they tried to bring them along, they wouldn’t have escaped quickly,” Xiao Chiye said to Dantai Hu. “Hu, take the cavalry and pursue them.”
Wu Ziyu offered, “My horse can still run. Brothers, ride with me.”
Dantai Hu thanked him and mounted. Gu Jin turned his horse and said, “Hu, follow me. We’ll pursue together.”
They left with their men, and half of the Bian Bo camp had been burned. Xiao Chiye inspected the stables and granaries, with Wu Ziyu trailing closely. “Second Young Master…” he began.
“Although Bian Bo camp is a patrol base, it’s also a supply depot. It’s a bit far from the frontier. To the east lies Sha Three Camp, with checkpoints and patrols along the way,” Xiao Chiye squinted against the sun and glanced at Wu Ziyu. “They’ve reached behind you. Where’s your patrol?”
Wu Ziyu recognized Xiao Chiye. Years ago, he had been selected into the palace along with Chen Yang, serving under Xiao Jiming’s personal guard, where he had seen Xiao Chiye. But the Xiao Chiye before him now seemed like a different person—the sheer height made his gaze feel imposing. Wu Ziyu suddenly felt diminished.
Avoiding the gaze, Wu Ziyu said, “The patrol sent out last night hasn’t returned.”
“And as the commander, you didn’t notice anything amiss by noon,” Xiao Chiye said casually. But the calm tone pressed heavily; Wu Ziyu felt increasingly ashamed.
News of the Second Young Master returning to Li Bei had spread for over two months. The soldiers were indifferent, but the ranking officers all had their own thoughts. Among Li Bei Cavalry’s current commanders, only a few were veterans from Xiao Fangxu’s era; the rest were younger officers promoted by Xiao Jiming.
With Xiao Jiming wounded and his return uncertain, rumors swirled—would the Second Young Master replace him? Everyone was watching Xiao Chiye carefully.
“We only withdrew from the Sha One Camp battlefront yesterday. Our main task was to coordinate equipment and food transport,” Wu Ziyu explained. “The original garrison at Bian Bo camp had been moved to Sha One Camp, so no main troops remained here. Bian Bo camp is behind Sha Three Camp; we didn’t anticipate…”
His voice faded as the oppressive tension pressed down. He dared not continue under Xiao Chiye’s scrutiny.
Meng tilted his head, eyeing Wu Ziyu. His iron-hooked beak still hadn’t been cleaned.
Xiao Chiye shielded his sunburned neck with one hand but kept his gaze on the stables. “Aren’t you Li Bei Cavalry?”
Wu Ziyu fell silent.
Xiao Chiye secured Meng, letting him fly again after Chen Yang finished counting the bodies.
“Master,” Chen Yang looked up, “should we send a team to follow?”
“The Bian Sha ambush brought catapults. Avoiding Sha Three Camp patrols would be difficult, yet they got through. This means Sha Three Camp has fallen. My father may have allowed the transport to retreat to Bian Bo camp, unaware that Sha Three Camp has been taken. Meng is going to Sha One Camp with the news. We rest tonight, then head to Sha Three Camp tomorrow.”
Wu Ziyu added, “The Second Young Master has no cavalry or supplies; moving eastward is a direct confrontation with Bian Sha. Since they took Sha Three Camp silently, the garrison was likely the fierce Shepo Unit. It would be more prudent to wait for support from Liu Yang’s three major camps. I can send word now; the Heir will surely dispatch Chen Hui.”
“If you had sent word upon reaching Bian Bo camp yesterday, there might have been a chance before sunset. Now, it will take a day and a night for fast horses to reach the northeast supply route. Chen Hui from Da Jing will take another day and a night to reach there. By the time he arrives, Bian Bo camp will be gone.” Xiao Chiye pointed to the collapsed watchtower. “Rebuild the tower, not facing east but in the southeast corner. Inventory supplies and horses. Have engineers repair the walls damaged by the catapults first.”
“If you fear another Bian Sha strike, the supplies and horses should be moved to the northeast route now. Rebuilding Bian Bo camp won’t be in time; Sha Three Camp is only tens of li away. The Shepo cavalry could reach here in a day,” Wu Ziyu urged.
Xiao Chiye leaped onto a railing, motioning for Wu Ziyu to stay back. “Honest opinion?” he asked casually.
Wu Ziyu, not understanding, replied, “Right now, the only option is abandoning Bian Bo camp, minimizing losses—”
Xiao Chiye stepped back while speaking, “Hmm. You have no desire to pursue them at all?”
The sun tilted westward. Standing amidst the ruins, Wu Ziyu felt uneasy under Xiao Chiye’s gaze. The burn on his back stung in the sunlight. “We can’t fight, Second Young Master. I’ve told you—I’m just a transport squad…”
Xiao Chiye didn’t answer, waving dismissively. Wu Ziyu understood. He stood before the ruined granary, expressionless, lips pressed tight, watching silently.
Xiao Fangxu sat robustly in his tent, finishing the last sip of his milk tea. Coarse tea with salt, now cooled, left a milky fragrance in the mouth. His shoulders exposed, the military doctor applied ointment.
“Amur is a worthy opponent,” Xiao Fangxu said, moving his shoulders after bandaging. “I’ve observed the Shepo Unit for over ten years, yet never expected such forceful impact. Age slows reactions—I’m no longer what I was.”
“Li Bei has strengths, but also obvious weaknesses,” Zuo Qianqiu said, letting sand sift through his fingers. “Amur altered his attack strategy. Against Jiming, he would never have dared such a sudden push. Jiming’s camps were layered and linked; cavalry could advance with supply chains secured behind. If the situation reversed, Jiming could quickly recall the main force. Now with Jiming gone, replaced by you, the camps’ communications are slower. The vanguard hesitates; the reserves are disorganized. Amur seized the opportunity.”
Xiao Fangxu rose, muscles scarred but solid. “If Da Zhou were still in its revival, Jiming would be the best commander for Li Bei Cavalry. He maintained peak performance admirably. But Da Zhou is fractured. The wall strategy no longer fits. Amur is a godsend for Bian Sha—he seeks to expand. Jiming’s conservatism gave him time to grow. Qianqiu, we must face reality: Bian Sha is no longer a loose raiding force. Under Amur, they are a vast ocean. Once he unites the twelve units, Bian Sha could consume Da Zhou. We must strike now.”
“I am Li Bei’s ‘spear,’ Jiming was its ‘shield.’ The cavalry, having lost weight, has grown complacent. A wolf without hunger will eventually be replaced,” Xiao Fangxu said evenly.
“Jiming suffered defeat. This is not bad—for him or Li Bei Cavalry. I placed him in the camp as a teen not to maintain invincibility, but to understand defeat. The battlefield has no myths. We fall; we must rise swiftly. Hands and legs intact, we can still fight. Jiming and I fulfilled our duties; now Li Bei must ‘hunger’ again.”
He paused, eyes deep.
“Li Bei Cavalry urgently needs a new commander, one entirely unlike us—even opposite. He must tear away Jiming’s cultured veneer, be greedy and fierce, leaving the cavalry hungry, restoring their wolfish nature.”