Gao Xining rarely traveled by boat, so she found it novel and delightful. Most of the time she would stand on deck watching the scenery outside, and when those few young women with her chattered away about what they saw, you could really feel their true age showing.

Li Chi spent most of his time poring over the map — the map of Jingzhou. To others, a map was just a drawing; to him, it was a landscape of mountains and rivers, the shape of all things under heaven.

This southward campaign was an absolutely critical battle for whether the Ning Army could open a passage into Jiangnan. If it succeeded, not only could they stride into Jiangnan, they might also force Yang Xuanji into a passive position.

Yu Jiuling, by contrast, seemed perfectly at ease, spending most of his time delighting in someone else’s misfortune — because before he saw Shendiao retching, he had truly never known that a wild boar could suffer from seasickness.

Gou Zi was doing fine, flying along for most of the journey, and when tired would return to the ship to rest — then also sit and watch Shendiao’s wretched state.

Yu Jiuling crouched down beside Shendiao, holding a bowl of rice topped with a layer of hot cooked dishes.

“Do you want to eat or not?”

Yu Jiuling asked Shendiao: “See — only I treat you well. You’re feeling this terrible, and only I come over to ask if you can still manage to eat.”

Shendiao turned its head and looked at Yu Jiuling, letting out a faint, slightly weak grunt.

Based on Yu Jiuling’s interpretation, those two grunts roughly meant: help me up, I can still eat.

So Yu Jiuling got up, took his bowl of rice, and went to eat it somewhere else by himself.

Shendiao watched that man go, and what was likely going through its mind at that moment was: I may have grown up imitating a dog, but I am not actually a dog. You, on the other hand, genuinely are one.

This southward journey would be spent entirely on the water for more than twenty days. At first it all felt fresh and interesting, but after a while it grew stifling.

There was always that nagging urge — perhaps we should go ashore and walk around for a bit.

People are just that complicated and fussy: traveling by boat takes no effort, and then you want to get off and walk; walking takes effort, and then you wish you could take a boat.

Just as Shendiao had barely managed to adapt to life on the water — wouldn’t you know it — they were almost there.

Li Chi unrolled the map again. They were roughly two more days from the destination, and barring any unforeseen events, that area should already be within the Ning Army’s zone of control.

“Tell me more about Yang Dingfang.”

Li Chi looked toward Xie Huainan.

Xie Huainan said: “Yang Dingfang was a garrison general under the imperial court, stationed in Shuzhou from the very beginning as a senior commander under the Shuzhou military governor. After pledging allegiance to Yang Xuanji, he was given a position of great trust.”

Xie Huainan’s mind worked like a detailed catalogue of people — it seemed that anyone of any standing, if asked about them, he could give a thorough answer.

He had a gift for remembering everything he read, and his thinking was meticulous and precise, which was among the reasons he had become the helmsman of the Xie Family.

Many people have good memories, but not everyone turns that advantage into something useful, and not everyone who has an edge also works hard.

The reason Xie Huainan memorized so many people was so that when making judgments, he would never form a mistaken assessment simply because he knew nothing about the other party.

“Yang Dingfang as a commander is steady and composed. Many people have said that in everything — whether how he conducts himself or how he commands — he models himself completely after Prince Wu, and has captured roughly seventy or eighty percent of that likeness.”

Xie Huainan said: “When he was in Shuzhou, Yang Dingfang’s study was hung with many pieces of calligraphy, all inscribed with things Prince Wu had once said or done, written out and displayed there. Every battle Prince Wu had ever fought, he would study in careful detail.”

At this point, Xie Huainan looked toward Li Chi and said: “From leaving Shuzhou to entering Jingzhou, Yang Dingfang is the only one among all of Yang Xuanji’s generals who has never suffered a single defeat.”

Li Chi asked: “An undefeated general on Yang Xuanji’s side — and he’s the only one?”

Xie Huainan said: “Yes.”

Li Chi said lightly: “On our side, there are more than we can count.”

Xie Huainan was caught off guard for a moment, then broke into hearty laughter.

An undefeated record was indeed something to boast about elsewhere, but in the Ning Army, there really wasn’t much to boast about.

Undefeated? He could name quite a few without even trying.

Xie Huainan understood in his heart that while Li Chi was asking about Yang Dingfang, what he truly wanted to ask about was the Xie Family’s affairs — he simply needed a starting point.

So without waiting for Li Chi to ask, Xie Huainan spoke up on his own: “Now that my eldest brother Xie Huaiyuan has made up his mind to stand on Yang Xuanji’s side, his support for Yang Dingfang this time will be wholehearted. The Xie Family has been established in Tingyang for hundreds of years — whether it comes to grain, supplies, or money, they can ensure Yang Dingfang has not a single worry in the rear.”

“The worst possible situation would be if Xie Huaiyuan let Yang Dingfang take refuge inside the Xie Family’s ancestral estate in Tingyang. The estate is ringed by mountain walls with fortifications all around it — exceptionally solid — and its defensive equipment is not much inferior to Yuzhou’s. There are numerous strongholds built along the mountain slopes, commanding the high ground and able to suppress from above. It would be very easy to defend and very difficult to attack.”

Xie Huainan said: “If Xie Huaiyuan and Yang Dingfang dig in and hold out waiting for reinforcements, it will not be easy to break.”

Li Chi said: “They have no reinforcements coming.”

Xie Huainan was again taken aback.

Though he could also reason that Prince Ning’s Royal Highness had personally come to Jingzhou precisely because Yang Xuanji might be too preoccupied to spare a thought for anything else, this was by no means certain. If Yang Xuanji’s great army abandoned Jingzhou and came back to reinforce them, the Ning Army’s forces here would not be able to withstand Yang Xuanji’s full army.

And if Yang Xuanji really did come back, the Ning Army currently encircling Tingyang would instead find themselves caught between two forces attacking from both sides.

Yet he could see it clearly — when Prince Ning said they had no reinforcements coming, there was absolute confidence in those words. And so he could not help but wonder: where did that confidence come from?

The only answer he could arrive at was Great General Tang Pidi.

And yet he could not figure out what the Great General, so far away in Suzhou, could possibly do to prevent Yang Xuanji in Jingzhou from pulling back.

—

At the same time, in Dachu’s imperial capital — Daxing City.

Shiyuan Palace, the Eastern Study.

Emperor Yang Jing sat behind his writing desk, a military report in hand.

This was news that had just been presented to him, and because of it, the Emperor’s heart was shaken to its core and could not be calmed.

Prince Wu Yang Jiju had already returned to Daxing City, arriving that very day. He had not even had a moment to rest before the Emperor summoned him into the palace.

“Royal Uncle.”

The Emperor handed the military report to Prince Wu: “How can this Tang Pidi be so formidable?”

The report stated that after Tang Pidi stormed into Suzhou, his speed of capturing cities and seizing territory was almost on par with the speed of his march.

In other words, he was advancing and occupying land simultaneously — barely encountering any meaningful resistance.

Of course, “barely any meaningful resistance” could be understood in two ways: either there truly was very little resistance, or whatever resistance existed simply did not amount to anything before Tang Pidi.

If the former, then Tang Pidi’s victory in Suzhou could be chalked up to luck. If the latter, then how terrifying Tang Pidi truly was already needed no further explanation.

After reading it through, Prince Wu set the battle report on the table, inclined his head slightly, and said: “In reply to Your Majesty — in this minister’s judgment, among the young men this minister has encountered in recent years, Tang Pidi’s talent for commanding armies stands at the very top.”

The Emperor let out a long breath: “Such a talent — how wonderful it would be if he could serve the imperial court.”

Prince Wu said: “If he truly served the court, this minister believes he would be a second Xu Qulü.”

Those words sent a quiet tremor through the Emperor.

A second Xu Qulü for Dachu — how should that be understood?

Had it not been for Great General Xu Qulü’s matchless power in years past, Dachu might have already fallen over a hundred years ago. Western regions invading, the steppe in revolt, the Black Martial forces pushing south, internal strife unending, the court already in collapse — had Xu Qulü not appeared from nowhere, Dachu would have been in mortal peril.

What Prince Wu meant might be that a young man of Tang Pidi’s caliber, if he served the court, could perhaps be like Xu Qulü in his day — extending Dachu’s life by another hundred years.

But of course, what Prince Wu’s words might also mean was: a young man of such breathtaking brilliance, if he served the court, would probably meet the same end as Xu Qulü — put to death with a cup of poisoned wine when the time came.

At this thought, the Emperor let out another sigh.

Prince Wu said nothing more and offered no explanation — even seeing the Emperor’s reaction, he had no wish to clarify.

Because what he meant was exactly what the Emperor had taken it to mean.

There was something else Prince Wu had held back. If he hadn’t, the Emperor would have been even more uncomfortable.

What Prince Wu had wanted to say was: if this minister were not surnamed Yang, if this minister were not Your Majesty’s royal uncle, this minister would likely have been given a cup of poisoned wine many years ago as well.

This was no jest — it was fact.

If Prince Wu were not surnamed Yang, if he did not hold the royal whip, if the late Emperor had not held a genuine measure of fear toward him, the late Emperor would certainly have had Liu Chongxin bring him a cup of poisoned wine.

“Now…”

The Emperor could only steer the conversation elsewhere.

He asked Prince Wu: “The great rebel Li Xionghu has been forced to withdraw to Suzhou. In the current situation, does this work in our favor?”

As he spoke, he placed deliberate emphasis on the word “our.”

Prince Wu bowed respectfully: “In reply to Your Majesty — on the surface it appears favorable to the court, but in truth it works in favor of Prince Ning, Li Chi.”

The Emperor blinked. Again, this Li Chi.

Prince Wu said: “Tang Pidi has seized most of Suzhou, forcing Li Xionghu to pull back. Li Xionghu has many troops, and it will not be easy for Tang Pidi to swallow him whole — but it will be equally difficult for Li Xionghu to defeat Tang Pidi. So in Suzhou, it will be a stalemate.”

“With things as they are, this minister will have the strength to fight Yang Xuanji in Jingzhou. Yang Xuanji will be forced to devote his full attention to that, leaving him unable to look after anything else. Li Chi will then seize the opportunity to take Jingzhou, and from there threaten Liangzhou and completely sever Shuzhou.”

Prince Wu looked at the Emperor: “When the dust settles, Tang Pidi will have Li Xionghu pinned down in Suzhou, this minister and Yang Xuanji will have worn each other down fighting in Jingzhou, and Li Chi will have taken advantage of it all to seize even more territory.”

By this point, anger had begun to rise inside the Emperor.

What he regretted most now was failing to send Prince Wu to crush Li Chi when Li Chi had first shown his head.

And now it was too late to crush him.

“Royal Uncle, is there any countermeasure?”

The Emperor asked.

Prince Wu shook his head: “There is none.”

Li Chi’s planning relied not on schemes and stratagems, but on open, legitimate strategy — everything laid out right there in the open. He simply saw further ahead and built more carefully.

By the time you felt the moment had come to make your move, you would find Li Chi had already moved several steps ahead.

The situation had already formed. There was no breaking it — only letting it unfold as it would.

“Then…”

The Emperor looked at Prince Wu, a hope he could not quite suppress showing in his eyes: “If Royal Uncle were to face that Tang Pidi in battle, would you have any certainty of victory?”

Prince Wu was silent for a long moment before answering: “Fifty-fifty.”

Those four syllables were like the final straw that broke the Emperor’s composure. For a moment, he could not even speak.

Fifty-fifty.

And that was against Tang Pidi alone. But Li Chi had more than just one Tang Pidi — by all accounts, every general under Li Chi’s command bore the name of the undefeated.

So of course Li Chi would never agree to any partition of territory and joint rule. And if the Emperor were the one holding the advantage right now, he would not agree to it either.

“Your Majesty.”

Prince Wu rose: “This minister must go to the front.”

“But Royal Uncle only just returned…”

“Then what?”

Prince Wu let out a quiet sigh and bowed: “Your Majesty, take care of yourself. This minister takes his leave.”

—