Aboard the sea vessel, the Sang naval supreme commander Chunbian Chili glanced at the Black Wu Imperial Prince standing ahead of him — his face showing reverence, his heart harboring hatred.

The Sang people had within their very bones a reverence for the strong. They were not quite like the Bohai people — the Bohai people had simply been beaten so badly by the Black Wu that they had been frightened into submission.

The reverence the Sang people showed toward the strong was utterly genuine in its outward expression, yet inwardly, at every moment, what they were thinking was: sooner or later I will surpass you, and then I will destroy you.

This was something embedded in the very root nature of their people — something different in every nation.

“Great General — I told Kuoke Di Wuyan Liang we had one hundred and eighty thousand troops, but we only have eighty thousand. Will there be any problem?”

Du Yazheng asked carefully.

Chunbian Chili smiled: “He does not care whether you brought eighty thousand or one hundred and eighty thousand — he only cares whether you showed up. Troops, Bohai has plenty of. What the Black Wu people care about is our fleet.”

Du Yazheng understood this well enough. He simply could not stop a thread of worry from tugging at him.

Whether Bohai or Sang, neither had the ability on their own to seize those splendid Central Plains lands. They could only choose to be the sidekick — the Black Wu people ate the meat, they drank the broth. But the Sang people would always be thinking: someday, we will eat the Black Wu people’s meat too.

Had the Black Wu people not first beaten Bohai so savagely, killing so many, the Bohai people would never have become so fearful of them.

But it was no exaggeration to say: if Black Wu had never existed in this world, Bohai would have submitted to the Central Plains empire — and might even have submitted to Sang. That too was something in their very bones, a self-abasement written into the blood of their people.

The Sang people were different. Sang was a small nation, yet harbored the ambition of dominating all under heaven.

“By the plan, our target is just ahead.”

Chunbian Chili pointed toward the coastline that had now come into view.

To the northeast of Yanzhou, the border passes were formidable and steep, garrisoned by battle-hardened frontier troops — that kind of hard fighting was naturally left to the numerically superior Bohai people.

The place ahead was a border town called Daisheng Pass. The Sang spies had already thoroughly gathered all the intelligence they needed.

Daisheng Pass was garrisoned by only three or four thousand frontier troops — old border soldiers of the Chu Kingdom who, after King Ning Li Chi took Yanzhou, had declared their allegiance.

Sang merchants had stayed here for over half a month, mapping the entire fortress in detail, and the map had secretly been carried out. It was now in Chunbian Chili’s hands.

This was the Sang people’s customary tactic: to defeat the enemy, one must know the enemy in meticulous detail.

Sang pirates had long since honed this tactic to perfection — all the more so for regular military forces.

Those Sang pirates who raided the Eastern Frontier coast would in advance send people disguised as merchants. Once ashore, they would conduct themselves with the utmost humility, doing business with the Central Plains people in the most agreeable way.

The things they brought were of good quality and low price — sold out quickly. They would spend generously to cultivate relationships with Central Plains merchants.

Those unsuspecting Central Plains merchants, playing the role of hosts from a great civilization welcoming guests from some small distant place, would bring them all around to see the sights.

In this way, a detailed map could be drawn up in no time at all. Before long, the pirates would come crashing in — burning, killing, plundering — and every time they left loaded with spoils.

This time as well, the situation inside Daisheng Pass had been thoroughly scouted. Three or four thousand men, old and deteriorating fortifications, virtually no heavy defensive weapons — they could not hold against eighty thousand Sang naval forces.

“Are our merchants still inside the city?”

Chunbian Chili asked.

Du Yazheng replied: “Great General — most of our merchants have already withdrawn. Only a small number remain on standby, and they can still be contacted.”

Chunbian Chili gave a hum of acknowledgment: “Drop anchor with the large ships. Send men in small boats and tell them we’ve brought goods again — a great deal this time, several ships loaded with fine things. Have them go report to the border troops, and say our ships need to dock at the pier to unload cargo.”

Du Yazheng immediately understood. He bowed: “I will send people at once.”

Chunbian Chili looked toward his subordinate general Mu Shanghe: “Select six hundred elite soldiers, conceal them in those cargo ships. The moment we dock, you are to secure the city gates as swiftly as possible. Hold for half a quarter of an hour — the main force will arrive to support you.”

Mu Shanghe bowed: “Great General, rest assured — your subordinate will take the Daisheng Pass city gates.”

Before long, Mu Shanghe transferred to what appeared to be an entirely ordinary merchant vessel. On deck, the people were dressed in plain clothing and their numbers were small.

Yet within the holds of these cargo ships, there was not a single piece of merchandise — nothing but warriors ready to go ashore and kill.

The Sang people never lacked this kind of fierce resolve. Those selected to be the vanguard warriors felt not dread but immense pride.

—

Daisheng Pass — the pier.

The pier was roughly over a hundred zhang from the pass, and its scale was small. On ordinary days, few ships came and went — most of the time the pier had only a few old soldiers standing watch.

The commanding general of Daisheng Pass was named Guan Chongshen. He was a veteran of the Chu border forces, having garrisoned Daisheng Pass for over fourteen years.

Fourteen years without a promotion — and in later years, not even food supplies arrived, let alone military pay. Yet Guan Chongshen and the old soldiers under him had still chosen to hold on.

Of course, not everyone could sustain that choice under such hardship.

As one of Yanzhou’s garrison posts, Daisheng Pass at its peak had housed eight thousand six hundred soldiers.

Some had reached their limit — they wed a local woman, hung up their armor, picked up a hoe, and became farmers.

Some chose to serve as bodyguards for wealthy households, carrying shame in their hearts, yet knowing they still had to eat.

Some went to work for escort agencies. Some went to keep order for brothels in the county seat. Some made their lives in gambling dens.

Among them were also men who held a special place for Guan Chongshen — like his trusted lieutenant.

Guan Chongshen’s personal aide, company captain Ding Feng, knelt outside Guan Chongshen’s door before he left, and kowtowed.

He said: forgive me, General. I do not want to go — but a letter came from home saying my old mother has fallen ill, and my old father injured himself when he carried her on his back to see the doctor. My older sister and her husband are the only ones holding things together, and they could not bear it alone, so they wrote to ask if I could send back a little money.

He said: General, I know I am committing a grave sin. For the sake of that bit of money, I am shaming everyone who wears a border soldier’s uniform. But General, I have no other way — I am someone’s son too.

He took his dozen or so brothers and left. They did not take the military uniforms — but they took their sabers.

Those dozen men quickly made a name for themselves in the county seat. They eliminated the most dangerous criminal gang in the city, took the silver, split it evenly among themselves, and arranged for it to be sent back home.

They did not know why, after finishing that one job, they did not leave. They should have left. But they all chose to stay — even if it was no longer the frontier.

Later, the largest gambling den in that county seat was Ding Feng’s. His following had grown from a dozen men to two or three hundred.

In a place like this, even the county magistrate gave way to him.

Every year, he did his best to scrape together money and provisions and send them to the border pass — and every year, without fail, Guan Chongshen sent people to return everything, not accepting a single coin.

Ding Feng understood: the General considered the money dirty.

Until one day — a woman who looked bold and magnificent, leading troops dressed in black battle uniforms and bearing blazing red banners, entered the city.

Ding Feng saw the Ning character on that great banner, borne with a killing edge in its sweep. His heart trembled with awe. He had heard the story of the Ning Army, heard the story of King Ning — he had thought it all very far removed from him, and yet here it was before his eyes sooner than he had imagined.

That woman, who looked so magnificent, said: her name was Shen Shanhu, and she was a general under King Ning. She had now led troops and taken the entire territory of Yanzhou.

She also said: from today onward, the land around Daisheng Pass was King Ning’s territory. She had come to change the flag at Daisheng Pass.

At that moment, Ding Feng’s first instinct was — disaster. He immediately called all his followers together, armed them, and rushed to Daisheng Pass.

He knew what the border troops’ battle banner meant to General Guan. He knew what that banner meant to every single border soldier — all those years of holding on, was it not precisely so that banner would keep flying and never fall?

Ding Feng came with his disciples and followers, ready to fight to the death — even though he was no longer a border soldier. As long as the General spoke a single word, he would be the first to charge forward.

Yet when he arrived, he stood there frozen.

He saw General Guan leading all his soldiers out of the city. At the city gates, the General held the Dachu border troops’ battle banner, folded neatly and precisely, cradling it in both hands to present to that female general.

In the crowd, Ding Feng saw what the female general did — and heard what she said.

“Changing the flag is changing the flag. I will not take away your banner. General Guan may keep this flag. The banner flying from the city walls must be our King Ning’s. Beyond that, I have no further demands.”

Shen Shanhu turned and ordered: “Bring the border troop brothers new uniforms. Send them their grain and provisions.”

Shen Shanhu walked up to stand before Guan Chongshen and gave him the most solemn military salute.

“I am of bandit origins — has General Guan heard of the White Mountain Army? That is correct, that notoriously infamous band of mountain brigands — that was where I came from.”

Shen Shanhu said: “So before I came, no one had taught me what a proper military salute should look like.”

She told Guan Chongshen: she had not originally come to conquer Yanzhou at all — she had come on personal business. Afterward, King Ning had sent word telling her she must do one thing on his behalf.

She looked into Guan Chongshen’s eyes and said: “King Ning told me — he asked me to treat all border soldiers in Yanzhou with care on his behalf. He asked me to be sure to give a military salute to the border troop brothers on his behalf. I did not know how. So I found someone to teach me — I learned after one demonstration. But I practiced for three days. I was afraid of not doing it well enough.”

Ding Feng saw it then — his General returned to her the most solemn border troops’ military salute.

From that day onward, the border troop brothers in Daisheng Pass never suffered a grievance again. They had sufficient grain rations, military pay three times what it had been before — and the Ning Army also made up all the years of pay that the Dachu court had cut off for the border troops.

That female general had said: her soldiers could eat dirt at every meal — but the border troop brothers must have meat at every meal.

She asked General Guan: do you need us to send you reinforcements? The General shook his head and said: no need. He said: you go and fight. Go take cities and seize territory, go take all of the Central Plains, and fly our Ning banner across it all.

Ours.

Later, that female general led her troops away, saying she was going to attack Qingzhou. She left a great deal of weapons and equipment for the border troop brothers of Daisheng Pass, along with one parting word: when the beacon fires on the signal towers rise and the smoke climbs, brothers will come. From now on, border troop brothers will never again stand alone without aid.

From that day onward, Ding Feng — the head of the criminal underworld in that county seat — closed the gambling den and opened a carriage house.

In a place like this, the carriage house business was certainly not easy.

But it did not matter. He had no regrets.

Of his two or three hundred disciples and followers, only seventy or eighty remained. Among them were those first dozen or so old brothers.

Work at the pier was sparse. Ding Feng simply liked to come and chat and pass the time with the old soldiers keeping watch.

General Guan looked after those few — they were old now, their bodies not what they had been. Each day they kept watch at this pier, inspected cargo vessels, and spent most of the time resting.

Just then, Ding Feng saw a ship coming in. By the look of the hull, he could tell where it was from.

“Work’s here.”

Ding Feng said to those few old soldiers with a grin: “Another day without work and you’d all be passing gas from boredom.”

Those old soldiers laughed back, saying Ding Feng passed more gas than all of them combined.

They watched the ship come in to dock. They saw a Sang person trot toward them with a face full of humble deference.

Ding Feng felt something was off. Because something about the deference behind that person’s eyes felt cold.

—