Chen Ming came over and glanced at the two of them, utterly undignified in their states, and couldn’t help but chuckle. She simply had a young soldier fetch them crutches.
In the previous battle, Ren Feihong had fared better, focusing mainly on evasion and self-preservation. After resting a while, she more or less recovered her ability to move. Yang Dongxi, on the other hand – once the tension of combat faded – lacked even the strength to lean on a crutch and ultimately had to be supported to her feet by an attendant.
It wasn’t that the soldiers, fresh from battle, weren’t allowed to rest; rather, there were matters to discuss. Tao Jia had summoned his officers to confer on whether they should send troops in pursuit.
After seizing a city, an army ought to pause and regroup before turning to other objectives. To make matters worse, Chu Fu, in his effort to drive out Sun Wuji, had set fire to the Right Camp’s gates, walls, and towers. In this era, once a blaze took hold, it could not be extinguished at will – much depended on the whims of heaven. Given the current situation, the fire would likely rage for another ten days or half a month. After that, the city’s fortifications would need repairs and additional troops stationed to prevent the eastern rebels from reclaiming it. Either way, their stay would be prolonged.
Shi Zhuhe said, “You need not worry, Old General. Sun Wuji is bold but lacking in strategy. Having lost the Right Camp, he is already disheartened. No doubt he will rush back to Hengping to await orders from Dian Wue. Pursuing him now would be futile. In a little while, I will take some cavalry outside the city on patrol, feigning pursuit, lest any perceptive minds among the rebels turn back for a surprise attack.”
In truth, Tao Jia himself was inclined to remain stationed here. But having just secured a major victory, some were bound to wish to pursue the enemy and seize further merits. Thus, as a matter of both reason and protocol, he had gathered his commanders to solicit their views. Now that Shi Zhuhe had voiced his stance and the others had echoed their agreement, Tao Jia took the tide at its flood and approved the decision to hold the position.
The Right Camp was a strategic linchpin. With its capture, the eastern campaign was effectively more than half won. Yet with Sun Wuji driven out and his cavalry converging with Dian Wue’s forces, Hengping would now prove even harder to take.
At that very moment, Sun Wuji was hastening toward Hengping, traveling day and night.
His heart burned, then turned cold, until at last fever seized him. His personal guards had to force him from his horse, imploring, “General, you must rest. Heavenly Might General still has need of you.”
Sun Wuji’s condition had previously steadied – but at the mention of “Heavenly Might General,” he let out a sudden cry, his arms flailing wildly, tears streaming down his face. “My brother entrusted me with the Right Camp, and today I have lost both men and ground. How can I face him again?”
The personal guard knelt on the ground. “Even in the depths of despair, you must preserve yourself, General, to plan for what comes after. What good would it do the Heavenly Might General if you were to perish here?”
Only after those around him had pleaded for a long while did Sun Wuji gradually fall silent. After a night’s rest, his fever slowly subsided.
Although unrest was already stirring in the Cheng Province region – many cities, upon sighting Sun Wuji’s forces, outright closed their gates and refused entry – the area still remained, for the most part, under rebel control. Having recovered somewhat, he abandoned the remnants of his infantry and pressed ahead with his cavalry. By the time he arrived at Hengping County, he sent men ahead to announce his arrival, yet no sign appeared of Dian Wue coming out to receive him.
Sun Wuji assumed that his senior brother, furious over his failure to hold the right encampment, was deliberately ignoring him. He pressed on regardless. But as he rounded a earthen hill, an armored cavalry unit, lances at the ready, surged forth from behind it without the slightest warning.
These were troops of the Great Zhou!
Silent as phantoms, yet fierce as starving tigers.
The ground suddenly gave way beneath him, and the lead riders plunged into pits disguised as ordinary ground – too shallow, given the hasty preparations, yet effective enough. In an instant, the sudden apparition of cavalry hurled their lances. Simultaneously, another contingent swept around to Sun Wuji’s rear, preparing to close in from both sides.
Sun Wuji’s men, exhausted from days of relentless marching, were at the very end of their strength. Their opponents, by contrast, were fresh and waiting at ease. The moment the two sides clashed, Sun Wuji’s forces crumbled, unable even to hold a basic formation.
“…Who’s there?!”
Dazed and reeling, Sun Wuji lifted his gaze to the sky – and there spotted a banner embroidered with the character “Song.” Among the Great Zhou’s high-ranking generals, only one bore that surname: Song Nanlou, who had once accompanied the Emperor on his western campaign and now served as commander of the Front Camp.
And indeed, there, amidst the enemy battle formation, sat a young general on a white horse, clad in silver armor and wielding a silver lance, his bearing exalted and proud. Any gentry from Jianping would have recognized him at once: it was Song Nanlou.
But what was Song Nanlou doing here?
Sun Wuji was seized by a profound alarm – was the young emperor prepared to abandon the northern territories altogether?
The situation in the north differed from that in the east. With the Wuliu tribe lurking predatorily beyond the borders, and with local strongholds far less ubiquitous than in the east, the north appeared, on the surface, more stable. Lately, however, as western tribes stirred up trouble and the east erupted in rebellion, many households had begun to grow restless. If the front camp remained firmly in the court’s hands, all might yet be well; but should it fall, recovery would likely prove far more difficult than in provinces like Cheng or Gu.
The north teemed with established clans and capable minds. It was not, like the east, starved of reliable strategists – a deficiency that had allowed Chu Fu to cast a single, simple scheme of sowing discord and effortlessly doom more than half of Sun Wuji’s cavalry. Indeed, right up until the moment the Right Camp was seized, Sun Wuji had remained convinced that his side held the advantage.
Sun Wuji’s eyes burned with rage as he attempted to break through with his troops, only to be struck by an arrow. Song Nanlou did not press the assault relentlessly; instead, he hemmed the enemy in, driving Sun Wuji back into a small earthen fortress on the outskirts, and then encircled it completely.
Song Nanlou gave the order. “Send word to Hengping County. Let us see whether His Excellency the Heavenly Might General is willing to come to the rescue of his junior brother.”
Under normal circumstances, reaching Hengping County in Cheng Province would indeed require passing through the Right Camp. But Song Nanlou had not come from Jianping; he had set out directly from the Front Camp. To hasten his march, he had initially carried very little baggage, replenishing his supplies only later – heavily – when he passed through Yu Province, where Wen Hong was stationed.
Song Nanlou had no fear of facing substantial punishment for leading troops across borders and forcibly requisitioning grain. This was, after all, the very strategy Wen Yanran had suggested to him in a private letter.
Wen Yanran reasoned that since Wen Hong was a man fond of scheming, he must also be suspicious by nature. If Song Nanlou suddenly appeared in his jurisdiction and bluntly demanded provisions, Wen Hong would likely hesitate, uncertain whether this was a genuine request for supplies or a pretext to attack. By the time he realized Song Nanlou’s true intent, it would already be too late to send word to the eastern front.
Thus, Song Nanlou waited until Wen Hong had fully replenished his grain stores before unhurriedly taking his leave with his men. He then advanced to the border region, executed a wide detour, and looped all the way around to the rear of Hengping County. Though he reached his destination on schedule, the journey had been grueling in the extreme. Had the Sovereign not provided him with a detailed map and dispatched guides along the way, he might well have lost his bearings entirely.
That such guides arrived in time was not due to the Emperor’s exceptional foresight, but rather to the [War Sandbox] finally living up to its role as a convenient golden finger, pinpointing the current location of their own forces with precision. When Wen Yanran sensed that Song Nanlou risked straying off course, he promptly sent word via the relay stations in the north.
Unaware of the true circumstances, Song Nanlou could only marvel at the Emperor’s extraordinary foresight – no wonder Her Majesty had insisted on reforming the postal relay system, expending both grain and silver. It had all been preparation for the campaigns to come.
Truly, the Emperor was worthy of the title, with a vision that encompassed the whole board. To use the analogy of GO: Her Majesty had placed a single stone with seeming nonchalance, its purpose unremarkable at first glance – yet it already accounted for the situation a dozen moves ahead.
With reverence for the Sovereign held deep in his heart, Song Nanlou led his troops to Hengping County and laid siege to the city. Dian Wue, caught off guard by the sudden assault, floundered briefly before opting to hold fast within the walls, intending to send word abroad for reinforcements. But Song Nanlou’s arrival was utterly unforeseen; the city had made no preparations whatsoever, and before long, all communication with the outside was severed.
Dian Wue could not refrain from reproaching Yu Gao. The latter had previously analyzed that the only mobile forces Jianping could deploy were those of the Central Camp. Had it not been for this assessment, they would hardly have been so remiss as to concentrate the bulk of their elite troops at the Right Camp, leaving Hengping critically undefended.
Yu Gao’s analysis of the various regional situations had, in fact, been quite accurate, and at the time, his predictions were not mistaken. What he failed to account for was Xiao Xichi.
Song Nanlou could not be redeployed because the north was unsettled; Wen Xun could not be summoned because the rebels had raised the banner of supporting the Marquis of Quanling, destabilizing the south in turn, thus necessitating a commander’s presence there.
Hence Wen Yanran had earlier sent a personal letter to Xiao Xichi. She knew she valued her clan – in peacetime, she was precisely the sort of general who would defend her territory and protect the people, and would never take up arms lightly unless the realm itself was truly convulsed and adrift. Accordingly, she directed Xiao Xichi to take command of the Chongchang Border Camp troops and temporarily assume control over the southern regions.
Wen Yanran understood that, in any conceivable course of events, Xiao Xichi would be reluctant to serve the court’s bidding. Yet where the fate of her homeland hung in the balance, unwilling though she might be, in the end she would have no choice but to lend her strength.
What Wen Yanran did not realize was that her reasoning bore a certain resemblance to Yu Gao’s: both shared an accurate grasp of the broader strategic landscape, and both were prone to miscalculations about certain individuals…
With Xiao Xichi stabilizing the south, Wen Xun’s forces were freed up. He then led his troops across borders to the north, filling the vacancy left by Song Nanlou. He had conducted a training campaign here once before and thus already possessed a fair understanding of the northern situation. Now, undertaking the same maneuver a second time, he carried it out with practiced ease.
Inside Hengping County, Yu Gao – still reeling from the shock of Song Nanlou’s sudden appearance – fell silent for several days before belatedly grasping the truth.
Not why it was Song Nanlou, but why it could only be Song Nanlou!
Given that Zhong Zhiwei could not be spared from the western front, among the remaining commanders, only Song Nanlou possessed experience in large-scale field campaigns. Moreover, he had previously led his own troops on a long-distance march to relieve Tai Province; his proficiency in protracted expeditions far exceeded that of the others.
Xiao Xichi was the chieftain of the Qingyi tribe, and the south was where her authority held most sway. Wen Xun, for his part, had a record of leading troops north to “suppress bandits” – the northerners were hardly unfamiliar with her.
No wonder Shi Zhuhe alone had been enough to overawe the powerful northern clans, yet the young emperor had insisted on involving Wen Xun as well. No wonder, when Xiao Xichi was trapped in Jianping with no clear path forward or back, the young emperor – despite holding every advantage – had simply released her and sent her home!
What fathomless depths lay in Wen Yanran’s cunning! She must have foreseen this very moment as early as the spring hunt – or even earlier – and laid all her pieces well in advance.
The more Yu Gao thought about it, the colder he felt – as if he had long since fallen into a vast net from which there was no escape. And indeed, he had every reason to despair. If one event could be coincidence, could several, interlocking as they were, still be dismissed as chance? Now Song Nanlou had appeared with his surprise forces. Even if Sun Wuji could temporarily hold off Tao Jia’s men, he would have no choice but to abandon the Right Camp and turn back in relief. Yu Gao had read the military classics and knew the maxim: “One skilled in war compels others and is not compelled by them. To make the enemy come of his own accord, lure him with advantage.” Yet never before had he seen such a strategy executed with such consummate mastery. No wonder the young emperor had declined to lead the campaign in person – with foresight so profound, what need was there for Her Majesty to appear on the field!
As a key strategist for the eastern rebels, Yu Gao’s shifting mindset was clearly reflected in the game panel –
[Prestige (Eastern Neutral Factions): 200 (Profession Bonus)
Prestige (Eastern Hostile Factions): 030 (Profession Bonus)]
Wen Yanran, in the midst of reviewing memorials at Western Yong Palace: “…”
She really couldn’t fathom what went through her enemies’ minds.
After being besieged for several days, Yu Gao, his eyes reddened from sleepless nights, prostrated himself before Dian Wue and pleaded earnestly. “This is truly not the time to summon General Sun back to our aid. I beg Your Excellency to reconsider!”
His counsel was born entirely of loyalty. Hengping was now on the defensive, while Song Nanlou was operating far from his supply lines. Once the enemy’s provisions were exhausted, the siege would naturally lift. What was most to be feared was Sun Wuji rushing back – given his sentimental and impulsive nature, once he learned of Hengping’s peril, he would undoubtedly return without regard for consequences. With the Right Camp left undefended, Tao Jia and his forces would be able to pass through the pass unopposed, join their troops with Song Nanlou’s, and force a decisive battle at Hengping. If they lost, the defeat would be total – there would be no chance of recovery.
Under these circumstances, Yu Gao’s reasoning was, in fact, sound. What he utterly failed to anticipate was that Tao Jia’s forces would take the Right Camp so swiftly – and that Sun Wuji would not be leading his troops back in a planned relief, but fleeing in disarray. Cut off from communication because Dian Wue had ceased sending word to the front, and pressing ahead with all speed, Sun Wuji had no idea that Song Nanlou was lying in wait. He was caught completely off guard.
Inside Hengping County.
When Yu Gao saw the letter delivered by Song Nanlou and learned that Sun Wuji was now besieged in a small earthen fortress outside, he spat blood on the spot and collapsed to the ground. It was a long while before he slowly regained consciousness – now torn between anguish and remorse, utterly at a loss. The present calamity was the sole work of that deeply calculating young emperor in Jianping. A foe more formidable, more terrifying, he had never known. That they had been brought so low spoke plainly of the gulf between the two sides. And yet, as Yu Gao reviewed every decision, he could not find any grave misstep on Hengping’s part. This, precisely, was what made Wen Yanran so chilling: she could make her enemies follow what seemed the correct path, step by step, straight into the abyss.
