Chapter 156: The Setup

"Heh. You should've seen Xu Wenzu's face."

Zheng Fan grabbed a handful of sunflower seeds from the Blind Man and cracked them as he talked.

The Blind Man, Bei, smiled. "Understandable. All the foreplay was done, everything was ready, and then he discovered it was actually a man."

A'Ming teased from the side, "Blind Man, I've noticed that ever since you overdid it that one time, your entire style has changed a little."

"Everyone was young once. Shame this world has an ancient setting. Otherwise, I could forward you every contact in my WeChat whose name starts with an A."

Fan Li scratched his head. "What's that mean?"

The Fourth Lady glared at the Blind Man, then told Fan Li, "Children shouldn't interrupt when adults are talking."

"Oh."

Fan Li continued squatting by the threshold, listening to everyone chat.

Ever since that night in the pavilion, when Fan Li had bluntly said, "Why don't we just chop the Master up?" everyone had tacitly stopped including the big fool in serious discussions.

They no longer had to go fight—more precisely, they no longer had to fight that kind of battle. Everyone was secretly rather pleased, so they deliberately joked around to lighten the mood.

Returning to the matter at hand, the Blind Man said, "Qian intends to carry out a thorough scorched-earth withdrawal."

Abandon the entire chain of forts and stockades. Give them up.

On the surface, it looked like an extremely passive way to avoid battle. In reality, it was like drawing back a fist. That only made it harder to deal with.

The system of forts and stockades had originally been built to guard against small groups of Yan cavalry raiding south. And historically, that had worked. After Qian's crushing defeat a century ago, small clashes between the two sides remained common. Qian gradually fortified the frontier, and over time small Yan cavalry detachments stopped slipping south to raid for grain and livestock.

Later, as the barbarian Royal Court in the desert declined and the east-west Silk Road prospered, everyone became busy making money and conducting trade. The border between the two states increasingly resembled one enormous transit market.

But now, a large-scale Yan invasion was already inevitable. Under those conditions, Qian's frontier fortification network no longer had much real value.

There was no longer any need for it to provide early warning, and it was equally incapable of truly stopping a major advance.

The first time Zheng Fan led only four hundred cavalry south into Qian, he had first uprooted the strongpoint directly in front of him, then carefully threaded his way through the defenses.

The second time, when he led more than a thousand cavalry south, uprooting a strongpoint had been something done almost in passing, more like warming up. On the return journey, they had ridden back openly and without concern.

Light your beacon fires if you want. You can't catch me anyway, and the Qian soldiers inside those forts don't dare come out and block me.

So once Qian implemented this withdrawal, it could cut its losses, stop pouring resources into the frontier fort network, and concentrate its troops at the same time.

The only issue was that Qian called itself a realm of scholar-officials, and scholar-officials loved nothing more than shouting empty slogans regardless of practical reality. For the Qian court to make this kind of decision, the Chancellors at court must have forced it through over heavy opposition.

Zheng Fan said, "That means the Great Yan army will no longer be facing scattered groups of small forts. We'll be facing the Three Garrisons directly.

"Liang Garrison, Wei Garrison, and Chen Garrison are the three major fortresses of the Three Frontiers. Qian's elite frontier troops are stationed there. That's Qian's first defensive line.

"The second defensive line is centered on the Western Army and runs along Mianzhou City. One hundred fifty thousand Western Army troops, plus more than forty thousand Wolf Native Troops.

"Mianzhou City itself isn't especially large, but the Western Army is best at defensive earthworks. They've used Mianzhou City as the anchor and built an extremely strong fortified line around it.

"The third line consists of one hundred thousand Imperial Guards, fifty thousand Zu Clan troops, and more than a hundred thousand troops similar to our Yan commandery forces. They've built their defenses around the border between Chu Commandery and the Three Northern Garrisons.

"That line depends on several cities inside Chu Commandery. When necessary, troops from there can be sent forward to reinforce the first two lines."

A'Ming looked at his Master in mild surprise. Normally, this sort of work would have been the Blind Man's responsibility. Apparently, the Master had not spent all his time idling around.

"Three defensive lines," Zheng Fan continued. "Nearly seven hundred thousand troops altogether. And because Yan came on so aggressively this time and openly started the war, some things Qian used to keep buried can no longer be hidden."

The Blind Man pulled a letter from his sleeve.

"These days, it's becoming harder and harder for the Sixth Prince's agents inside Qian to send intelligence back—or at least to send back anything truly valuable. But this report is fairly useful.

"It says that under Yan's pressure, the disgraceful state of the Three Frontiers, combined with the complete mess the Imperial Guards made while marching north, exposed festering sores that had been covered up for years.

"The Qian Emperor was furious. Three senior officials in the Bureau of Military Affairs were dismissed one after another, and one Chancellor was granted a Qingliang Parasol and ordered home.

"At the same time, the Qian court dispatched nine Imperial Commissioners to various commanderies to recruit troops. We don't know the situation everywhere else, but in Beihe Commandery alone they've already recruited twenty thousand Beihe Dare-to-Die Troops.

"The Qian Emperor has some ability too."

"Most emperors in this world aren't the kind who ask why starving people don't eat meat porridge," Zheng Fan said.

A'Ming asked, "So what you're saying is that if the stalemate continues, Qian could actually reform itself under pressure from Yan?"

"It has already started," the Blind Man corrected him. "On paper, both the Three Frontiers and the Imperial Guards of Upper Capital were supposed to number eight hundred thousand men. Traditionally, even after squeezing out the inflated numbers, there should still have been more than seven hundred thousand in each.

"Qian already suffers badly from the Three Redundancies, and military expenditure is the largest part of that problem. Every year, the Qian court allocates the military budget in full. As for how that money gets divided and how much actually reaches the army, that has been an unspoken arrangement for decades.

"In ordinary times, even if the Emperor knew about the problem, he wouldn't dare move against it. Qian has no Li Liangting and no Tian Wujing.

"But now, with a war between states underway, he finally has the opportunity to cut into it. Given enough time, if Qian truly rebuilds and trains the full number of troops it is supposed to possess, then forget the Great Yan marching south..."

"A counterinvasion north is unlikely," Zheng Fan said.

"Hard to say." The Blind Man shook his head. "That depends on national fortune. On luck. Heaven only knows whether some future star general is hiding inside Qian's armies."

Back then, Yan had nearly been destroyed as a state. Then the first Marquis of Zhenbei had appeared out of nowhere and smashed a Qian army five hundred thousand strong.

That was fate. What people called national fortune.

Of course, that kind of fate did not appear often. That victory had depended on all manner of special circumstances. Even if you brought the first Marquis of Zhenbei himself back and told him to fight the same battle again, he might not have been able to reproduce that glorious victory.

"Maybe we're still standing too low," Zheng Fan said. "I don't believe the three men above us can't see problems that even we can see."

"Master, that sounds exactly like commoners insisting the Emperor is always good and only the ministers around him are evil."

"That saying isn't entirely wrong." Zheng Fan smiled at the Blind Man. "Across all history, no matter how muddleheaded an emperor was, how many of them were actually stupid enough to deliberately ruin their own realm?"

"We'll see. At our level, all we can do is watch for now." The Blind Man rubbed his temples. "Earlier, I had the Sixth Prince's merchant caravans investigate something for me. The Great Yan has not begun manufacturing siege equipment on any large scale, nor has there been any major gathering of the materials required for siege warfare.

"Perhaps, just as Master said, those three above us already have a plan in mind. Otherwise, there would have been no reason for the Marquis of Jingnan to order these regional commanders south to harass Qian while the Zhenbei Army was still busy trampling the great clans. Isn't that simply beating the grass to startle the snake?"

Then the Blind Man turned toward Liang Cheng. "A-Cheng, what do you think?"

Ever since they returned from the assembly point, Liang Cheng had barely spoken.

Since the Blind Man had called on him directly, he had no choice but to answer.

"Using cavalry to attack cities is a waste."

A'Ming shook his head. "Don't state the obvious."

Liang Cheng nodded.

"Not necessarily."

...

Mianzhou City had already received two visits from Garrison Commander Zheng.

There would not be a third any time soon.

From the city's walls, huge military camps now extended outward in all four directions. Every day, Western Army soldiers trained within them.

Even if Green Willow Fortress had actually succeeded in drawing blood this time, even if Garrison Commander Zheng had brought every last scrap of his household wealth with him, faced with earthworks this unreasonable and this extensive, he might have thrown away his entire force without ever touching Mianzhou City's walls again.

The winter wind cut like a flesh-slicing blade.

Zhong Wendao stood atop the city wall. Beside him stood his youngest son, Zhong Tianlang.

The feat of the Western Army's Young General—riding hundreds of li in a deep raid, breaking enemy stockades, and taking Zheng Fan's head—had already been spread widely. It was a victory that greatly raised morale.

Every truly outstanding commander throughout history understood one thing: even when fighting a defensive war, there was never any sense in curling up completely and passively waiting to be hit.

The overall strategy could be defensive, but you still needed to create local victories from time to time to raise morale.

That was the true reason Zhong Wendao had been willing to hand the Western Army's precious cavalry to his youngest son and let him "mess around."

Father and son now stood together in the freezing wind. Zhong Tianlang worried about his father's health, but he also knew that if he urged the old man to go back and rest because the wind was too strong, it would only irritate him.

"I'm very pleased you've gained this understanding," Zhong Wendao said.

"I truly was too ignorant of the height of Heaven and the depth of Earth before."

"This war won't be easy. The Yan aren't the Northern Qiang, nor are they the native chieftains in the southwestern mountains."

"Your son understands."

"Strip away their arrogance. Preserve their edge."

"Your son thanks Father for the instruction."

"Eventually, the Western Army will still have to be handed to your generation. Truthfully, when the court's troop-transfer edict first arrived, I hesitated."

Zhong Wendao swept his gaze over the surroundings.

"The most frightening thing about the north has never been its weather. It is these open plains and unobstructed roads."

"Father, no matter how formidable Yan cavalry may be, they still can't ride straight through the Western Army's fortified camps."

Zhong Wendao glanced at his son but said nothing. A trace of sorrow crossed his brow.

Zhong Tianlang continued, "Father, if the Great Qian ever wants to launch a northern expedition, then we must build cavalry of our own."

"A northern expedition?"

"Yes. A northern expedition. Your son believes that one day, the Great Qian will march north against the Yan barbarians!"

A faint smile appeared at the corner of Zhong Wendao's mouth.

He did not want to explain how difficult a northern expedition would be, nor did he want to explain just how taboo the words "northern expedition" were at court.

Young men were supposed to dream of such things.

That was normal.

He himself had once been the same.

Zhong Wendao could not help recalling those years when he, Meng Gong's father, and the others had stood beside the Tattoo-Faced Chancellor.

Back then, they had already begun planning for a northern expedition.

One part of the Western Army had specifically been stationed to restrain the Northern Qiang. Yet rather than exterminate them completely, they had deliberately left them alive.

The purpose had been to use the Northern Qiang as a whetstone for Qian's cavalry.

But after splendor faded and youthful fervor cooled, many things that had once set the blood ablaze no longer stirred anything at all.

Not even enough to make his eyelids lift a little higher.

Just then, a patrol cavalry detachment returned to camp, rode directly through the military stockades, and entered Mianzhou City's southern gate—the gate directly below where Zhong Wendao and his son stood.

A military report permitted to enter the city directly was clearly important. Ordinary reports were digested outside, analyzed and summarized, then forwarded upward.

A commander-in-chief was not a god. No one man could personally track every detail of an army encampment containing nearly two hundred thousand people.

Zhong Tianlang went down to receive the report himself.

A short while later, he returned with excitement written across his face.

He came to his father's side.

"Father, Second Uncle is bringing the Xishan Camp north."

Xishan was Qian's forward line against the Northern Qiang. Part of the Western Army was stationed there under Zhong Wendao's younger brother, Zhong Wenmian.

The Western Army was an enormous military bloc. The Zhong Clan enjoyed extraordinary prestige within it, but it did not possess the same absolute control that the Marquis of Zhenbei's household exercised over the Zhenbei Army. It was more like a military... anomaly produced by a particular era and a particular set of conditions.

Zhong Wendao and Zhong Wenmian, the two senior figures of the Zhong Clan, were therefore the symbols of the Western Army. Outsiders called them Lord Zhong and Little Lord Zhong.

Zhong Tianlang was thrilled because although the Xishan Camp contained only thirty thousand soldiers, the overwhelming majority were mounted troops.

In other words, the Xishan Camp was probably the finest cavalry force in the entire State of Qian.

With his Second Uncle present, Zhong Tianlang felt his future battles would become far easier to manage. Compared with the dullness of infantry warfare, he still preferred the wind-swift freedom of cavalry combat.

Yet there was not the slightest joy on Zhong Wendao's face.

Instead, one hand gripped the bricks atop the battlement so tightly that his fingernails scraped clear lines across the stone.

"Father?"

Zhong Tianlang was startled.

No son truly wanted to see his father enraged.

"Heh... heh heh... hahahaha..."

Zhong Wendao began laughing.

"Before setting out, I warned your uncle again and again. The Western Army was already sending one hundred fifty thousand sons north. That was enough. We had to leave some of the army's old foundation at home!

"Your uncle agreed to it in front of me.

"But now..."

"Father, resisting Yan is a great undertaking. Our Zhong Clan cannot... cannot..."

Zhong Wendao suddenly glared at his son.

The terrifying look made Zhong Tianlang's heart sink.

"Are you trying to tell me to put the greater situation first? To think of the state? To think of the people of the Great Qian? Not to care about the gains and losses of a single clan or surname?"

"No. Your son wouldn't dare. Your son wouldn't dare."

"That is exactly what you mean! Exactly what you mean!"

Zhong Wendao gritted his teeth, silver hair whipping slightly in the freezing wind.

"The Xishan Camp has already moved almost to our doorstep, yet I never received a single word beforehand. I never saw any court authorization either. Do you know why?"

"Your son..."

"The court must have sent an Imperial Commissioner to deal with your uncle in person! Your uncle is marching north under an imperial edict. Heh heh... heh..."

"Father..."

"I'm already a pile of old bones. I should have been at home holding sweets in my mouth and playing with grandchildren. Yet for the sake of the Great Qian, I put my armor back on and led the sons of the Western Army north.

"And the court? What is the court doing?

"It is busy splitting up my Western Army!

"Splitting the family!"

Zhong Tianlang fell silent.

Everyone knew that the court had long wanted to solve the problem of the Western Army's regional military autonomy. Now, taking advantage of Zhong Wendao's absence, it had persuaded his younger brother to march north.

That single move effectively marked the division of the Western Army.

From now on, the Xishan Camp would no longer belong to the Western Army's command structure.

It would become independent.

"Father, I have something I must say, even if you punish me for it."

"Say it. I order you to say it!"

Zhong Tianlang drew a deep breath.

"Father, our Western Army... truly is too large."

The southwestern theater was under Western Army authority. The lands facing the Northern Qiang were under Western Army authority. Even rebellions in other regions sometimes required the court to deploy the Western Army.

"Large?" Zhong Wendao suddenly laughed. "How old are you? The Western Army during the suppression of the southwestern native-chieftain rebellion—that was what you call truly large.

"Son, I know what you want to say. I know what you mean. But there are things you have never experienced, so you do not understand.

"Right now, we're at war. The Yan might march south at any moment, so the Chancellors at court have become unusually easy to deal with.

"Once this war ends... once this war ends... civil and military men will naturally begin separating again."

Zhong Tianlang wanted to speak further, but Zhong Wendao raised a hand and stopped him.

"Do you truly think I'm angry because your uncle established his own household?"

"This..."

"Do you truly think I deliberately refused to bring the Xishan Camp north because I wanted to leave the Zhong Clan an escape route? A bargaining chip that would guarantee our clan's survival?"

"Father..."

Zhong Tianlang suddenly realized that much of his father's energy seemed to have drained away at once.

The old man looked far older.

"Heh heh... heh heh heh... hahahaha..."

Zhong Wendao began laughing again.

"Back then, that man once evaluated the Chancellors of today's court like this:

"Every one of them reads a few military classics and immediately thinks himself the reincarnation of an immortal general."

...

On this day, Xu Wenzu assembled nearly ten thousand cavalry, only to dismiss them back to their camps.

On this day, thirty thousand cavalry of the Western Army's Xishan Camp entered the Three Frontiers.

On this day, Zheng Fan did not choose a color.

On this day, a down-and-out swordsman and an old man carrying a long fortune-teller's banner arrived outside Yanjing. The old man seemed to have caught a cold.

"Achoo!"

...

This chapter is setup. Don't panic.

(End of Chapter)