Immortal’s Ford Stone Bridge.

The Chu army hurled themselves at it for a full shichen — no restraint, no calculation, only relentless force.

It was useless. The Ning reinforcements had arrived. For the Left Martial Guard to break through now was simply not possible.

Li Chi, Tang Pidi, Luo Jing, and澹台 Yajing — four commanders holding this position. Who in the world could overcome all four? Not even one of them alone could be taken down with any ease.

And Cheng Wujie’s Ning force was pressing hard from the rear. Wait much longer and the encirclement would close completely.

Being surrounded here was even worse than being caught inside the Mangdang Mountains — at least the mountains offered terrain. Here they had nothing but a village two li from the bridge, and what good was that?

The Qingzhou Ning reinforcements were less than a hundred li out — possibly fifty or sixty.

Prince Wu gave the order to withdraw. The Left Martial Guard peeled back like a tide.

“Chase them,” Tang Pidi said, mounting. “They don’t want to be trapped in open country — and we haven’t enough reinforcements here to force the issue yet. So we run them back into Mangdang.”

The words were barely out of his mouth. Luo Jing was already gone.

Li Chi and Tang Pidi both understood: Luo Jing couldn’t bear to watch Prince Wu retreat back into the mountains. The old man was right there. Luo Jing wanted blood.

Prince Wu, however, was no ordinary opponent. A fighting retreat — measured, disciplined, every step covering the next — was a skill he had practiced for decades. Luo Jing charged three times and was turned back three times by arrow volleys each time. He lost dozens of his guards. It was enough. He pulled himself back.

When Cheng Wujie’s main force arrived and began pressing from the other side, the Chu army found itself squeezed on two sides with nowhere to maneuver.

At first they managed to retreat northeast. Then, after twenty or thirty li, a vast wall of Ning red banners appeared to the northeast as well, and Prince Wu had no choice but to turn northwest.

Northwest was the Mangdang Mountains.

They fought and paused and fought again for a full day. By nightfall, Prince Wu’s column had retreated back inside the Mangdang Mountains.

Tang Pidi gave the signal. Ning forces sealed the mountain entrance with speed.

Tang Pidi had chosen this terrain two years earlier. The Mangdang Mountains had one entry point. The rear slopes were sheer cliff faces — he had confirmed this through repeated scouting. There was no way out.

His original plan from the very beginning had been exactly this: seal Prince Wu inside the Mangdang Mountains. Whatever the path had taken to get here, the result was what he had wanted.

When Prince Wu had discovered the wooden fort being built inside — that too was Tang Pidi’s bait. Now, under the pressure of the Ning army’s encirclement, retreating into the fort and using it as a defensive anchor was far better than being slowly carved apart in open country.

The fort’s walls were solid. Inside those mountains, even a Ning force several times their size could not easily break it.

Before, this bait might have had limited appeal to Prince Wu. But in this situation, with no other option, the bait had become irresistible.

Prince Wu had calculated every angle — and hadn’t thought to calculate for the flaw on his own side.

If Yang Jingyuan hadn’t insisted on leading the vanguard and cutting ahead, Prince Wu would have been across that bridge already.

At minimum, with a commander of Prince Wu’s caliber cutting through, Gao Zhen could not have held him for as long as Yang Jingyuan had been delayed — Prince Wu would have saved at least two shichen.

With two extra shichen, even if not the full ten-odd thousand could have crossed, getting half the column over was possible.

And with tens of thousands already across, what could Luo Jing and his eight hundred Tiger-Leopard Cavalry have done? Possibly, Prince Wu might even have turned and encircled Luo Jing.

But nothing in this world is absolute. The unexpected always finds a way in.

Yang Jingyuan and Nie Qitai, in private agreement, had undone every part of Prince Wu’s plan. He had calculated Tang Pidi’s strategy with perfect clarity. He had simply forgotten to calculate his own people.

The Left Martial Guard was fully inside the Mangdang Mountains. Prince Wu looked diminished — the spirit drained out of him, every year of his age present in his face.

“Pass the order — on entering the fort, each unit camps in sequence.”

He gave the command, then looked to Wuliangge.

Wuliangge had not come from the Central Plains — he was from the southern border peoples of Chu. From childhood he had stood above his age-mates; by fourteen or fifteen, already taller than a grown man. When Chu army recruiters came through the south, their officer had spotted him on sight and brought him back to Daxing City. He was sixteen at the time — exactly when Prince Wu had come out of retirement to take command. He was selected for the Left Martial Guard.

Twenty-three or twenty-four years now. From common soldier to Fourth-Rank general on merit alone, and fully trusted by Prince Wu.

“Wuliangge.”

“Here.”

“Take your division up to the fort and set the defenses.”

Wuliangge received the order and led his ten-thousand-odd men to their positions, distributing arrows and defensive materials, setting everything up without wasting a single moment.

Prince Wu knew, though — Tang Pidi would not attack.

He knew. But he had no choice.

Encircled in open country meant certain death. Inside the Mangdang fort — perhaps a thread of survival.

Tang Pidi intended to wall him in with hundreds of thousands and starve him out. Not fight. Just wait.

Prince Wu found a place to sit and let out a long, slow breath. Age brought a particular kind of weariness. In his youth, a short rest — even an hour or two — and he would be up again, full of life.

Now when the exhaustion arrived, it was not just his body. His heart hurt too.

“Huyan Sheng!”

Prince Wu called out. A guard’s face went slightly pale before answering: “Your Highness — the General has already… fallen.”

Prince Wu stilled. He had only now remembered. His Tiger Guard commander, Huyan Sheng, was dead at Ning hands.

The feeling — body and soul both depleted — deepened at once.

“Cui Yuansheng.”

Prince Wu called again. Cui Yuansheng was a deputy commander in the Tiger Guard. Hearing his name, he ran over. “Your Highness — here.”

“At first light tomorrow, pick the best men from the guard and go through every part of the rear mountains. Look for any way out.”

Cui Yuansheng nearly said: We already sent men — there is no way out. He had been there for those searches himself, during their earlier stay at Mangdang.

But the words wouldn’t come. He bowed. “I will personally lead the search.”

Prince Wu acknowledged him, then said: “Go rest. I’m tired too. I need to sleep a while.”

Cui Yuansheng bowed again and backed away — two or three steps — and then Prince Wu’s voice came again.

“You are now the Tiger Guard Commander.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Cui Yuansheng breathed in.

Any other time, being named Tiger Guard Commander would have been the greatest honor. But he could feel no joy. If they had offered him a marquisate, he couldn’t have cared less.

Still — now that the rank was his, the weight that had been Huyan Sheng’s was now his to carry.

Ning Army Camp.

Luo Jing was unhappy. Profoundly unhappy. He hadn’t crushed the Left Martial Guard in a single decisive blow. He hadn’t killed that old man with his own hands. It felt like a stone slab sitting on his chest.

Li Chi, watching him, suppressed a smile. “Old Tang brought you back because he knew exactly what was in your mind. Throw a tantrum now and I’ll have him transfer you back to Suzhou.”

Luo Jing straightened immediately. “No tantrum. Fully obedient!”

Tang Pidi and the others laughed freely.

Xiahou Zhuo grinned. “General Luo is much more appealing like this than he was a moment ago.”

Luo Jing muttered: “If I’m not obedient I get transferred. There’s a saying — a man under another’s roof…” He caught Tang Pidi’s eye. The second half of the phrase stayed firmly in his throat.

“Business,” Tang Pidi said, rising.

He addressed them all. “Mangdang’s terrain — I have surveyed it myself no fewer than ten times.”

He looked toward Yan Qingzhi. “Master Yan’s people handled much of that work on my behalf — and I believe their count runs higher.”

Yan Qingzhi smiled. “Under twenty would be too few.”

“There is no other exit from Mangdang,” Tang Pidi continued. “Based on the volume of supplies Prince Wu was able to carry inside, I estimate the Left Martial Guard can hold out for no more than two months.”

He turned to Li Chi. “I have assessed the Jingzhou situation — within three months, nothing there will threaten us.”

Li Chi: “Seal them in for three months, then.”

Luo Jing: “Hmph.”

Li Chi: “Old Tang — write the transfer order.”

Luo Jing: “Hmph… hmph-la-la… hmph-hoo-hoo. Adorable?”

Tang Pidi gave him a look, then smiled and pressed on. “Assignments.”

Everyone stood to.

Li Chi spoke: “Xiahou and Zhuang Wudi — Yuzhou forces seal the western face. Hold position at the foot.”

Both answered together: “By the Grand General’s order.”

Tang Pidi: “Shen Shanhu — your division holds the east side of the entrance.”

Shen Shanhu: “Understood.”

“The Prince of Ning and I hold the mountain entrance. No unit enters without my explicit order. Violations are death.”

A single unified acknowledgment.

“That’s the shape of it. Now — eat. Everyone’s gone more than a day without food.”

Luo Jing blinked. “And… what about me?”

He looked at Tang Pidi. “The Grand General didn’t mention me.”

“You’re not under my command,” Tang Pidi replied evenly. “Before you got here, the Prince had already spoken — he’s missed you greatly. Wants you close.”

Luo Jing’s eyes went wide. He turned to Li Chi.

Li Chi, with complete gravity: “Deeply missed.”

Yu Jiuling thumped his own chest with enthusiasm. “Long time no see, General Luo — you look even more impressively built.”

Luo Jing shuddered visibly and turned straight back to Tang Pidi. “Grand General — I’d truly prefer to remain under your command.”

Li Chi sighed. “And there it is — disobedient again. Old Tang, write it.”

Luo Jing: “…”

He wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly why his Prince had arranged it — to keep him from throwing everything aside the moment Prince Wu was in reach.

Knowing and accepting were different things.

He sulked, expression twisted, somewhat petulant.

Li Chi smiled. “If when the Grand General orders the assault on the mountain, I fail to send you in first — you may strike me once to vent your feelings.”

Luo Jing: “I don’t believe it. You know I’d never dare hit you.”

Li Chi: “Then if I don’t give you the first run, you can hit Yu Jiuling once instead.”

Luo Jing: “Now that I believe.”

Yu Jiuling: “…???”

—