Ever since learning that Xing Muzheng had gone to the frontier, Emperor Yongtai had been restless. He believed he had issued the worst possible decree. Once Xing Muzheng got hold of military power, he would surely rebel! Because of this, the emperor could not sleep at night, and grew increasingly hateful toward Consort Shu who had suggested the idea. Over a small matter one day, he threw her into the Cold Palace. He then turned his malice onto the Xu clan, upon whom he had once pinned high hopes but who had repeatedly disappointed him, nitpicking them in every way. Only when the former Noble Consort, now the Empress Dowager, intervened to soothe him did the emperor ease his fury. Still, nearly every day he sent secret decrees flying to Xu Meng at the front, madly warning him again and again never to let the tally of command fall into Xing Muzheng’s hands.
By now, the war was deadlocked. After occupying Shinan Prefecture, the new King of Xili pressed directly against Pengzhou, where the Xie army had retreated, while sending two of his sons through the mountains to attack Tongzhou, intending to break through on two fronts at once. Xu Meng was in agony. Xing Muzheng’s arrival did not ease his burden; instead, it pressed on him like another mountain. He had to face Xili, guard against Xing Muzheng, and endure Yongtai Emperor’s frenzied secret orders, sometimes full of rage, sometimes filled with chastisement.
Upon arrival, Xing Muzheng did not show himself openly. Jiang Shuzhi, the stationed general at Hemeng Pass, and Yu Zhengwei, commander at Pengzhou—both former subordinates of his—came to pay respects and rushed to report the current situation in detail.
Over the past two years, under the previous king, Xili had rested and recovered. But the general Meng Rang, driven by wolfish ambition, seized the ready-made advantage of Xili’s revival and soon provoked war. This time Meng Rang brought an army of three hundred thousand, sending one hundred thousand to Tongzhou, with rumors of more reinforcements behind them.
After his defeats, Xu Meng had repeatedly petitioned the court for reinforcements. At first, Emperor Yongtai responded briskly and gave him fifteen thousand troops. But when Xu Meng asked again, the emperor grew annoyed and refused. After two consecutive defeats, Xu Meng had lost sixty thousand Xie soldiers. With the original fifty thousand garrison, only two hundred and ten thousand men remained. Feeling still insufficient, Xu Meng memorialized for another two hundred thousand troops. The emperor hesitated. Only after repeated petitions from the ministers did he reluctantly send another hundred thousand, who were already on the way.
Xu Meng did not know whether, before reinforcements arrived, Meng Rang would launch a full-scale offensive.
Xing Muzheng was very familiar with Meng Rang. He was a great noble of Xili and one of its staunchest war hawks. Years ago, when Xing Muzheng was ambushed in the mountains of Tongzhou, shot by an arrow and tumbled off a cliff, it had been Meng Rang’s doing.
Meng Rang’s military skill was lacking, but he was vicious and treacherous. Otherwise, he could never have poisoned his own king. He was like a viper spitting out its crimson tongue, always watching for an opportunity—if things turned against him, he slipped away. Xing Muzheng most loathed dealing with him—not because he could not win, but because he could never catch him.
Xing Muzheng disliked protracted wars. Meng Rang’s eldest son, Guda, however, was a true wolf of prey. Xing Muzheng judged him far more worthy of attention. And since Tongzhou was a key fortress, Xing Muzheng wanted Xu Meng to remain behind while he himself led five hundred elite soldiers to Tongzhou, to join the local garrison and see if he could launch a surprise attack on Guda first.
But Xu Meng, receiving daily secret edicts, had already grown timid and suspicious, as paranoid as Emperor Yongtai himself. He feared that if Xing Muzheng went alone there might be some trick, yet also feared Xing Muzheng might seize all the glory of victory. So, using Xing Muzheng’s supposed ill health as a pretext, he insisted on accompanying him to Tongzhou.
Xing Muzheng said nothing more, simply acquiescing.
On the night before departure, he lay beside Qian Jiaoniang and instructed her to wait a few days, setting out only when she received his letter. Qian Jiaoniang softly asked, “Is the road dangerous?”
“I only have some suspicions. And the danger is not mine, so you needn’t worry,” Xing Muzheng said. “Zhengwei is stationed at Pengzhou—he is an old subordinate of mine, dependable. Peng Shi and Yan Jin will stay behind at your service.”
“I understand.” Though she wanted to go with him, right now she was, in a way, one of his little soldiers and could not disobey her commander. Still, this little soldier was bold, and kept prying into secrets. “What exactly are you suspecting? Quickly, tell me.”
Her tone made it clear she would not let him off unless he did. General Xing, subdued by the tyranny of his pillow-side soldier, bent close to her ear and revealed the inside story.
***
Two days later, Xing Muzheng and Xu Meng mustered their troops and set out for Tongzhou. Xu Meng rode his beloved horse, while Xing Muzheng, still pale and frail, traveled by carriage. Though it was late autumn, the snows had not yet come. Seeing Xing Muzheng bundled in a padded coat, Xu Meng sneered inwardly. To him, Xing Muzheng’s fortunes were finished; only trickery remained to him. Once Xu Meng broke the Xili barbarians, he would kill Xing Muzheng amidst the chaos, pinning the crime on Xili—a neat two birds with one stone.
But on the road to Tongzhou, in the middle of the night, they were struck by a Xili ambush. The assassins’ target was clear: Xing Muzheng.
Meng Rang’s spies had ferreted out word from within Xie: that Xing Muzheng was gravely ill and weak, and that he was secretly heading toward Tongzhou. Seizing this heaven-sent opportunity, Meng Rang quickly dispatched a team of assassins, determined to rid himself of his greatest menace. He thought, once Xing Muzheng was dead, Xie would fall into his grasp like something already in his pocket.
Xu Meng was jolted awake from his sleep when a runner burst into his tent, breathless: “General Xu! Xili assassins!”
Xu Meng at once donned armor, seized his weapons, and rushed out—only to see many tents already ablaze. A band of black-clad killers wielded strange short blades tipped with hooks, each strike deadly, each cut aimed to kill. Xu Meng drew his long saber to fight back, and at the same time saw that the assassins were swarming most thickly around Xing Muzheng’s tent. Through the firelight he could glimpse the clash of steel inside.
In an instant Xu Meng’s thoughts whirled—he wanted Xing Muzheng to die here, yet feared that if he did, there would be no one left to hold Xili at bay. It was not yet time for him to die. Xu Meng rallied men and charged into Xing Muzheng’s tent. “Envoy Xing, I’ve come to save you!”
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