With two days still remaining before the agreed time, Prince Wu grew increasingly silent. His subordinates were deeply worried, but there was nothing they knew how to do.

Everything that could be arranged had been arranged. Everything that could be prepared had been prepared. In their hearts, they all knew that from here on, it was in heaven’s hands.

All those years they had fought alongside Prince Wu, and never once had anything felt like “heaven’s hands.” Because in every battle they had ever fought, no matter who the enemy was, Prince Wu was heaven. Prince Wu was fate. He was the heaven and fate of the Zuo Wu Wei — and equally, the heaven and fate of every enemy they had faced.

Fate was whatever Prince Wu decided.

This time, for the first time, they truly understood a saying they had never once applied to themselves before.

*Do all that men can do, then leave the rest to heaven.*

No one went to disturb Prince Wu. The white-haired old man sat alone at his high vantage point, gazing down at the camp below.

Mangdang Mountain was vast and magnificent. Its cliffs were steep and imposing. On a day with nothing to do, sitting up here watching clouds drift and forests sway in the wind should have been something to lift the heart.

But what Prince Wu saw in the drifting clouds now was dark undertow. What he saw in the wind-stirred forest was iron and war.

He knew himself that something was different this time. What could he do about it?

All his tactics were useless. All his strategies were meaningless. For this breakout, there was only one approach that could work — charge outward at whatever cost.

The Ning army had already erected a timber wall across the mountain path. Li Chi and Tang Pidi clearly understood: Princess Wu would not withdraw, and Prince Wu would not surrender.

His greatest hope now was that the wall would not be able to hold back a hundred thousand armored men with hearts desperate to go home.

As an enemy, as a rival, he understood perfectly well what was most advantageous for the Ning army.

That was: do not fight.

If he were Tang Pidi, he would make exactly the same choice — seal the mountain road, and simply send forces to hold off Princess Wu.

How long would it take?

A few months at most. Then the Zuo Wu Wei — once the most formidable force under heaven — would be reduced to a camp of starved, withered corpses. Or at best, starved, withered men too weak to hold a sword.

When the Ning army finally came up the mountain at that point, they wouldn’t need to spend a single soldier. If they were heartless, they’d cut down the Zuo Wu Wei one by one. If they had any mercy, they’d bind them and bring them down the mountain.

This was the Zuo Wu Wei. However glorious they had once been, that was now how wretched they had become.

Prince Wu drew a deep breath and told himself: he could not allow himself to despair.

If even he despaired, the Zuo Wu Wei would truly have no hope at all.

With that thought, he rose, returned to camp, and asked for his spear. On the open ground, Prince Wu began to move.

That iron spear had accompanied him for many years. Every victory, every honor, every tear of blood shed in battle — the spear had witnessed all of it.

That man, nearly seventy years old, moved the spear until it sang in the air.

He pivoted and struck — the spear drove into a great tree, its force still savage and explosive, punching clean through the trunk of a tree nearly as thick as two men’s arms joined around it.

Who in all the world could stop this thrust?

Prince Wu’s dominance had always come from this spear.

A scholar raises a scroll and asks the world: how shall the world be saved? 

A physician raises medicine and asks the world: how shall the world be saved? 

Prince Wu raises his spear and asks the world: will you comply — or not?

The watching soldiers erupted in a roar of cheering. In that one strike, they saw their undefeatable Prince Wu returned to them.

“When we descend the mountain, you need only follow behind me.”

Prince Wu tossed the heavy iron spear aside with one hand. Two bodyguards had to receive it together — one person alone might have been sent stumbling.

“Come with me.”

He said it to his assembled commanders.

They followed his steps to a position of higher ground and stopped.

Prince Wu pointed down at the base of the mountain. “We can see that Tang Pidi has sealed the mountain road — he intends to pen us to death in Mangdang Mountain. But we cannot simply take it at face value. Since we intend to break out, we must prepare for the possibility that the enemy has already laid heavy ambushes below.”

The generals all gave their assent.

“Wu Suohai,” Prince Wu said. “When we descend, you take your force to the rear.”

Wu Suohai immediately stepped forward. “Your Highness — I would be honored to serve as vanguard and open the way for the main force!”

Prince Wu shook his head. “Leading the charge must be done by me personally. There is no need for anyone else to compete for it.”

He looked at Wu Suohai. “The rear column is critically important. It is not about hiding behind everyone else — it is about protecting the way back.”

His voice was calm, but his tone carried unusual weight.

“Have any of you considered: if Tang Pidi has laid a full encirclement below, then this Mangdang Mountain — the very prison he has used to trap us — would be our only route of retreat.”

No one among the generals spoke. Their expressions were grim, but they all understood this was true. If the breakout ran into overwhelming opposition, retreating back to Mangdang Mountain was the only option.

“Therefore, Wu Suohai — you must guard our retreat with absolute care. If our way back is cut off by the Ning army, then this battle will be lost with no possibility of recovery.”

“Yes, sir!”

Wu Suohai stood rigidly at attention. “As long as I draw breath — as long as even one of my soldiers draws breath — the way back will remain open!”

Prince Wu then looked at another Zuo Wu Wei general, Zhao Chuanliu.

“Zhao Chuanliu.”

“Here, sir.”

“Command of the main body is yours.”

“There is one thing you must remember above all else,” Prince Wu said. “I will be the vanguard. If I am surrounded and cannot break free — you must not bring the main force to rescue me.”

Zhao Chuanliu’s expression changed drastically.

“Do not speak yet — hear me out,” Prince Wu continued. “If Tang Pidi has truly set up a full encirclement below, his forces will have their eyes fixed on me. The moment I am trapped and you move to rescue me, the entire Zuo Wu Wei will be drawn into Tang Pidi’s net — because that is exactly what he wants. He wants you to come rescue me.”

“I will have my bodyguards carry a signal. The moment I send that signal, it means there is no longer any chance of breaking through. Regardless of whether I can extract myself, you must take the main and rear forces and withdraw to Mangdang Mountain immediately.”

Prince Wu did not explain further because he knew: Tang Pidi’s objective was him. Compared to that, the Zuo Wu Wei as a whole meant less. As long as he died or was captured, the remaining Zuo Wu Wei soldiers who retreated to Mangdang Mountain still had a path to survival — because without him, his soldiers would have the option of surrendering.

He did not want to drag his brothers down with him.

He alone, as Prince Wu of Great Chu, would refuse to surrender to the death. But his soldiers were allowed other choices.

“Has everyone understood?” Prince Wu called out.

Zhao Chuanliu kept his head bowed. His eyes were red.

“This subordinate… has… understood.”

“Good.”

Prince Wu smiled and let himself appear at ease.

“In all these years, whenever I personally led the charge into battle, we have never once been defeated.”

“You should trust me. In all the warfare under heaven — who can stop me?”

The generals stared at Prince Wu in silence. Every one of them felt something like a blade slowly cutting through their chest.

Because Prince Wu had said these words before — but in the past, he had phrased it differently. Back then, he had said: *who is worthy of stopping me?*

Now, that worthy person had appeared. It was Tang Pidi.

These old soldiers — it wasn’t as if they couldn’t see it. Prince Wu’s hair, moving in the wind. White as snow.

—

Below the mountain. The Ning army camp.

Before the great sand table, Tang Pidi was still deep in thought. He had to go over everything one more time, with absolute care. There could not be a single gap.

His opponent was Prince Wu — the old man who had never been defeated in his entire life. Also the idol of Tang Pidi’s heart.

Tang Pidi had never mentioned to anyone the place Prince Wu held within him. Because this was his own private matter, and concerned no one else.

When he was young, he was unlike other children. Other children pestered adults for stories — stories about gods and ghosts, stories about strange things in the wilderness. But he had always loved stories of war. Every time he heard one, he came alive with excitement.

Having grown up this way, how could Tang Pidi not hold Prince Wu in deep reverence?

Yet in this moment, he understood clearly: giving his absolute and complete best — that was the greatest respect he could offer his idol.

Even with such an overwhelming advantage already secured, there was not a trace of relaxation in him. Not a trace of self-satisfaction.

“Everyone repeat your assigned tasks back to me,” Tang Pidi said, eyes still fixed on the sand table.

In the tent, Li Chi included, every person recited their duties back — word for word, without a single deviation from Tang Pidi’s instructions.

Tang Pidi listened and watched, still searching for anything that needed to be added or adjusted.

“There is still one part that doesn’t sit well with me.”

He murmured it to himself.

That part was the gap — the deliberately opened breach. It was, without question, the linchpin of the entire battle plan.

Because the timing of when to open that gap determined whether this entire engagement could result in victory.

Too early, and Prince Wu would immediately suspect a trap. The old warrior would withdraw his forces to Mangdang Mountain without hesitation. Though retreating there still kept the advantage firmly with the Ning army, this battle would cost many lives — and those deaths could not be allowed to be in vain.

Too late, and Prince Wu would also retreat — and the Ning army would suffer even greater casualties in the meantime.

Tang Pidi had considered manning that position himself. But if he went, the gap would open at the right moment — yet the flanks would become unstable.

“Report!”

At that moment, a bodyguard strode quickly inside.

Tang Pidi glanced over. The guard knelt and said: “Grand General — our reinforcements have arrived.”

This left many in the tent momentarily stunned. Hadn’t every force the King of Ning could mobilize already been assembled here?

How could there still be reinforcements?

Outside the tent, a travel-worn figure strode in — Tang Antchen. Seeing Li Chi, he knelt in greeting. “Your servant pays respects to His Lordship!”

The moment Tang Pidi saw his younger brother, his eyes lit up instantly.

Tang Antchen had come all the way from Yanzhou — from the farthest northeastern corner of the Central Plains. He had traveled more than twice as far as anyone else, and he had made it.

Li Chi had come from Jingzhou, which was already a great distance. But the journey from Yanzhou was equal to making the trip from Jingzhou to here and back one and a half times.

“Ha ha ha ha!”

Tang Pidi burst out laughing. Everyone in the tent was momentarily bewildered — none of them had ever seen the Grand General laugh like this. For a moment, they all just stared.

“Beautifully done!”

He laughed. “Ha ha ha ha ha — beautifully done!”

He strode forward, gripped Tang Antchen by both shoulders, and laughed. “You’ve arrived at exactly the right moment! Ha ha ha ha!”

Tang Antchen had arrived.

The last piece of the puzzle surrounding Prince Wu — was now in place.

—