In this world, truly no one can control everything. Sometimes you feel as though everything is in the palm of your hand — and only after failing do you understand that you were simply being arrogant.
The Four Manifestations disciples had come specifically for Fang Zhuhou, and even Fang Zhuhou himself acknowledged that had this been two years earlier, he might not have been able to handle all four of them together.
But time waits for no one and stops for no one. While those four were busy refining their teamwork and coordination — had Fang Zhuhou been standing still?
Moreover, once Fang Zhuhou had left Daxing, there was no way for those people to keep close track of his situation. After joining Li Chi’s side, Li Chi had placed no constraints whatsoever on Master Fang — so what Fang Zhuhou had been doing in all that time, even Li Chi didn’t know, much less their enemies.
Two years. More than seven hundred days and nights. With Fang Zhuhou’s natural gifts, his advancement might not have looked dramatic from the outside — but his level was simply different from everyone else. A single small step forward for him meant, for others, four words: *the horizon, forever out of reach.*
Fang Zhuhou returned to the teahouse, gathered his belongings, and caught sight of the scattered lime powder. He couldn’t help but smile at his own expense.
It was the first time he had ever used quite so shameless a tactic.
He found the four fighters’ weapons interesting and collected them all. As he left the teahouse, he felt a faint pang of regret — he still genuinely couldn’t remember whether he had ordered a bowl of noodles.
The fight was over. Those who deserved to die had died. But beyond the confines of that fight, there had been unseen eyes watching from the shadows.
They were not fighters — if they had gotten involved, they would have died. Their task was only to observe and record, using their own eyes to capture every moment.
What they had witnessed would be swiftly relayed back, to ensure that the next attempt on Fang Zhuhou would not result in another miscalculation.
Fang Zhuhou knew this perfectly well. But he had no way to find them — they were mixed in among the ordinary bystanders who had gathered to watch.
A killing of this scale had occurred here, and the local authorities would naturally not ignore it. When they arrived, all they found were four corpses, each with a hole punched through the skull.
About half an hour later, Fang Zhuhou was aboard a carriage, continuing his journey toward the southwest along the main road.
He didn’t know who those shadowy observers were — but he did know the four assassins had arrived by carriage, and a carriage was considerably more comfortable than a horse.
What pleased him even more was that the carriage had food in it. Clearly, those people had come prepared, expecting to seize him and head straight back — and so they had stocked provisions.
—
*Meanwhile, at the Ning Army’s main camp.*
Li Chi came again to the supply depot, watching the Tingwei’s four senior officers practice their coordination.
Zhen Gen had made some small modifications to the spiral spear Li Chi had designed — subtle adjustments that increased the rotational speed when the weapon was launched, thereby strengthening its penetrating force.
Seeing Li Chi arrive, Zhen Gen jogged over with a smile. “Chief, take a look at the spiral spear now — what do you think?”
The four men launched a weapon in coordination. Before them stood several layers of shields that the supply depot had prepared — captured from the Yong Province army, constructed from sturdy rattan, formidable material. Five such shields lined up together made for a considerable total thickness.
The spiral spear flashed past, and the five rattan shields immediately shuddered — then the spear emerged out the other side.
Li Chi smiled. “Have as many made as possible. Used well, this thing could be a powerful weapon against the Yong Province army.”
Zhen Gen nodded. “I thought the same. The Yong Province army’s rattan shields are tough — ordinary arrows can’t punch through them. If we could produce enough of these spiral spears… or even smaller spiral arrows, we’d stand a chance against their shield infantry.”
But that would require vast quantities of iron and a large workforce, and the craftsmanship was time-consuming — far too demanding to turn a vision into reality.
Since equipping archers with these was not feasible, the priority would be mass-producing the multi-bolt crossbow launchers. Those were the most devastating weapon against enemy infantry — a single volley could sweep through an entire rank.
“Get started with what materials you have in the depot — make as many as you can — then send men to the rear with the schematics.”
Li Chi finished giving instructions, and then saw Xiahou Zuo approaching from the distance, walking and speaking at once: “It looks like the Yong Province army is preparing to cross the river. They’ve started hauling timber down to the banks of the Tuo River.”
Li Chi went to meet him, and together they walked to the riverbank.
On the opposite bank, Yong Province soldiers were already packed densely to the water’s edge, passing timber forward hand over hand from behind.
With so many men working, the pace was fast. One could already see the supplies piling up on the bank into something resembling a small mountain.
“What a shame,” Xiahou Zuo sighed. “If only Buertechi were still here. Then we could have let the Yong Province army cross and crushed them on open ground.”
Li Chi gave a nod of agreement.
If they still had the Nalan tribe’s cavalry, this battle would not have been so grinding. If the Yong Province army wanted to cross, let them — meet them on the plain and decide it in one engagement.
“They don’t look like they’re building a bridge.”
Xiahou Zuo pointed at the south bank. “They know us well enough to understand that our catapults would make short work of any raft crossing. Even a pontoon bridge — that we could break without much effort.”
Li Chi had also sensed that something was off. What the Yong Province army was preparing was not quite right.
“They’re assembling catapults!”
Li Chi’s eyes went wide in sudden realization. Now he saw what the timber being hauled up by the Yong Province soldiers actually was.
And judging by the size of the components being transported, once those catapults were assembled, they would be considerably larger than the Ning Army’s own.
Han Feibao’s forces had not used these before — he may have been saving them, holding them back for a decisive confrontation with the Ning Army or for attacking some major fortified city.
Xiahou Zuo narrowed his eyes. “The river is that wide — can they hurl stones this far?”
“They may not need to reach this side…”
Li Chi’s voice dropped in tone. “They may intend to use the catapults to suppress our fleet, while they cross on rafts.”
Looking at the number of catapults taking shape on the Yong Province side, suppressing the fleet seemed entirely within reach.
And as the Yong Province army’s work progressed with increasing speed and clarity, it became apparent that the catapults being assembled were of varying sizes.
The largest of them had the range to reach this side of the Tuo River without difficulty. The smaller ones probably covered roughly half that distance.
Such a configuration was designed for total coverage of the waterway.
“This battle just got harder,” Xiahou Zuo said, turning to Li Chi. And Li Chi’s expression had indeed grown somewhat grave.
In the past, it had always been the other side cursing the unfairness of it — *why does the Ning Army get equipment like that?* This time, that feeling of unfairness had arrived at the Ning Army’s own doorstep, because the catapults on the opposite bank had clearly been conceived by minds that thought differently from the ordinary.
At this bend of the Tuo River, the Ning Army was facing the most formidable opponent it had ever encountered.
And in Daxing, both Yang Xuanji and Emperor Yang Jing were also facing a moment that demanded decisive choices.
On the city walls of Daxing, Emperor Yang Jing stood gripping the parapet and staring into the distance. The Mandate Army had pulled back somewhat — it had been three or four days since the last assault.
The relentless successive attacks before this had consumed massive numbers of the Mandate Army’s forces. And now it was already the beginning of the third month. The food stores inside the city were critically low. If Yang Xuanji did not withdraw, it would truly come to throwing open the gates and fighting to the death in the open.
Yang Xuanji might simply be waiting now — letting his soldiers rest and recover. Or perhaps he wasn’t waiting at all, and instead was thinking about something else entirely. For Dachu, for Emperor Yang Jing and Yang Xuanji both, this was a moment of critical consequence.
“Royal Uncle… how long can our food supply hold out?”
Yang Jing asked.
Prince Wu replied, “Right now we are down to one meal of thin gruel per day. Even so, we can last perhaps half a month more at most.”
In truth, he had lied. One meal of thin gruel a day — gruel in which barely a grain of rice was visible — and even at that, they could not hold out ten days.
The Emperor let out a long, heavy breath.
“He’s stopped…”
The Emperor said it almost to himself.
Prince Wu gave a quiet sound of acknowledgment. “Yes. He’s stopped.”
The two men looked at each other, and quickly fell into silence — a silence that stretched on for a long while with neither of them speaking.
Outside the city, at the Mandate Army’s camp, Yang Xuanji stood alone outside his great tent in a daze. He had forbidden anyone to disturb him — the sight of anyone right now made him feel disgust. Except for his personal bodyguards, no one was permitted within ten zhang of him.
Four days ago, he had received word that the Yong Province army had emerged from Shu Province. The blow this news dealt him was difficult to overstate.
Though the following day he had received a personal letter from Pei Qi, the Military Governor of Shu Province, explaining that the Yong Province army had been invited by the great noble families to come and assist the Mandate King in conquering the realm.
But this was the kind of lie you told to children. How could Yang Xuanji possibly believe it?
Of course, in the past, he might genuinely have believed it — might even have been smug about it, telling himself that heaven’s mandate was on his side and the great tide of history was moving with him.
But by now he had seen many things clearly, and he knew that his past self had been spun around like a fool.
The more self-important a person is, the less they can endure being deceived and manipulated.
And so Yang Xuanji’s rebellious instinct had been steadily gaining the upper hand.
“The realm belongs to the Yang clan. It must belong to the Yang clan…”
After a long silence, Yang Xuanji murmured it to himself.
One of his personal bodyguards, hearing this, furrowed his brow slightly.
Word had come from Yangzhou that a young man called the Marquis of Guanting had replaced Li Xionghu. That, presumably, was another pawn those people had arranged.
The word *pawn* — even thinking it made Yang Xuanji’s expression darken.
The bodyguard watched Yang Xuanji turn and walk back into his tent, then motioned to a comrade nearby: “Stomach trouble. Cover for me a moment.”
The other soldier teased him a bit and came to take his post.
Once away from Yang Xuanji’s central command tent, the bodyguard made his way straight toward another camp — not far at all, right adjacent to the center.
This was the encampment of Du Ke, the Military Governor of Liang Province. His twenty-five thousand Liang Province troops were stationed to the west of the central command, and beyond that — a little further off — was the camp of the great bandit chieftain Zhai Li, who had previously defected to their side.
The bodyguard ran straight into Du Ke’s great tent. He was slightly out of breath when he arrived.
For a man of Du Ke’s stature, the arrival of someone like this ordinarily ought to have commanded a certain air of authority — but instead Du Ke immediately rose and came forward.
“Master Guangshang, what brings you here?”
Du Ke asked, his tone carrying even a trace of deference.
The bodyguard glanced around. Du Ke understood at once, waving everyone else out and ordering them to guard the tent well and let no one approach casually.
The one called Master Guangshang sat down and caught his breath, then said with a self-deprecating laugh: “Compared to them, I really am rather useless…”
Du Ke quickly said, “Master’s schemes encompass the grand picture — all of it is under your control.”
Master Guangshang waved a hand. “No need for flattery. I know my own body better than anyone… Yang Xuanji’s heart has already turned against us. He must be dealt with quickly.”
Du Ke said, “Dealing with Yang Xuanji is not the hard part. The hard part is how to do it without his forces mutinying.”
They had planned everything — but even they could not make Yang Xuanji’s troops ready to obey their command at any given moment.
If Yang Xuanji died and Du Ke announced he was taking command, Yang Xuanji’s more headstrong subordinates would oppose it immediately.
There was a real risk the whole force would scatter — men taking their units and leaving.
“Barring any unexpected turns,” Master Guangshang said, “Yang Xuanji will soon summon his key officers for a meeting. If he still trusts you, he will include you. If he no longer trusts you, this meeting will be the one where you are left out — or perhaps where he begins plotting how to remove you.”
He looked at Du Ke and said, “So you need to create a complication — something to draw Yang Xuanji and his key commanders out. Something that won’t arouse his suspicion.”
Du Ke was still turning this over in his mind, wondering what kind of complication he could engineer, when a voice came from outside: “My lord, the chief has sent someone requesting your immediate presence at a meeting.”
Du Ke immediately looked at Master Guangshang.
Master Guangshang thought for a moment, then nodded. “Go. Not going now would make him suspicious. I’ll head to Zhai Li’s camp — if anything goes wrong, I’ll have Zhai Li move his troops to attack Yang Xuanji’s central command. Take a signal with you, and pass word to your men as well: if they see the signal, they are to attack the central command immediately.”
Du Ke acknowledged this and quickly gave instructions to his trusted subordinates.
Master Guangshang left the Liang Province troops’ encampment and hurried toward Zhai Li’s camp.
When he arrived at the camp’s perimeter, he was stopped by the guards — after all, not everyone knew who he was. He said he was sent by Du Ke with urgent business and requested an audience with Grand General Zhai Li. But the soldiers at the gate replied that Zhai Li had already been invited by the Mandate King.
At those words, the color drained from Master Guangshang’s face.
—