Ning Army Camp.

Li Chi stood before the sand table, watching intently as Tang Pi Di worked through the battle situation, following every move of the veteran commander’s hands without missing a detail.

The strategic landscape had grown much clearer now. The forces capable of mounting a resistance had narrowed from four directions to two.

Li Chi and Tang Pi Di had not yet received word of what had transpired in Yangzhou — given the distance of several thousand li, even with scouts planted there, there had not been time enough for the news to travel back. And since events there had unfolded so suddenly — catching even the hidden powers behind the Marquis completely off guard — there was certainly no way for Li Chi, thousands of li away, to know.

“Well?” Li Chi asked the moment he saw Tang Pi Di set down the small banner in his hand.

“There are a few variables that can’t be confirmed,” Tang Pi Di replied. He walked to one side and drank some water, then pointed to a location on the sand table. “The first is the Chu army inside Daxing City. Whether Tantai can keep them in check remains to be seen.”

He explained, “Those Chu troops are a cobbled-together force with no real cohesion and ordinary combat effectiveness. The moment the Emperor openly announces his surrender, those soldiers’ morale will likely collapse entirely. Once Tantai arrives, many of them may want nothing more than to stop fighting — and there could be mass desertions.”

Li Chi nodded. He had anticipated this, which was why he had discussed it with Tang Pi Di and arranged for him to assign Tantai at least thirty thousand elite cavalry.

With those thirty thousand horsemen present, the Chu troops could be intimidated into some degree of order — but that might not be enough to stop a large-scale rout.

Because the desertion wouldn’t happen inside the city. It would happen before the assault — once the Chu forces marched out of Daxing City alongside the Ning army to attack northward, they could bolt the moment they cleared the gates.

The deterrent power of thirty thousand men could not compare to the will of several hundred thousand men to flee.

Tang Pi Di pointed to another location. “Here.”

Li Chi looked: it was south of Daxing City.

“Han Feibao came by way of Liangzhou,” said Tang Pi Di. “The Liangzhou Military Governor was once one of Yang Xuanji’s men — though later we learned Yang Xuanji was himself merely a puppet. When Han Feibao came through Liangzhou, there’s a strong likelihood he picked up additional forces along the way.”

“The Liangzhou forces were already incorporated into the Chu army,” said Li Chi. “But that isn’t all of them.”

“I estimate there are still at least fifty thousand combat-ready troops within Liangzhou’s borders,” Tang Pi Di continued. “With generous rewards on offer, Han Feibao could also recruit a considerable number of ordinary people. This force — he would never expose it openly. He’d keep it hidden south of Daxing City.”

Li Chi picked up the thread. “And then, at the moment of the decisive battle, that hidden force could tip the scales.”

Tang Pi Di gave a soft sound of agreement. “Those are the two biggest unknowns. If Tantai fails to hold the Chu forces, our odds of victory are only sixty percent.”

He looked at Li Chi. “If Tantai holds them, but Han Feibao has a hidden force south of Daxing City, our odds drop to fifty percent.”

Because if the fighting broke out, the Chu forces under Tantai’s command would find themselves caught between the hidden force from the south and Han Feibao’s army — a pincer. If Tantai’s line collapsed, Han Feibao could seize the momentum and retake Daxing City itself.

“If the Marquis of Guanting arrives as well at that moment?” Li Chi asked.

“Then our odds fall to thirty percent,” said Tang Pi Di.

Li Chi nodded, walked to a seat, and sat down to think.

“Boss,” said Zhuang Wudi, “give me ten thousand men. I’ll go set up a defensive line to the southeast. If the Marquis of Guanting’s forces arrive, I’ll hold them.”

“The Marquis has at least four hundred thousand troops,” Tang Pi Di replied. “Their combat effectiveness isn’t exceptional, but there’s no defensible terrain in that direction. On open ground, ten thousand men cannot hold off four hundred thousand.”

Zhuang Wudi let out a quiet sigh and said nothing more.

“Let me think of another approach,” said Li Chi, rising to his feet. “Han Feibao’s shield right now is those innocent people. Let me first figure out how to neutralize that.”

He looked at Tang Pi Di. “If I can remove the civilians as a threat, what are our odds?”

“If the civilian problem is solved — even if the Marquis arrives, even if Han Feibao has his hidden forces — I put our odds at seventy percent,” said Tang Pi Di.

Li Chi turned and headed for the tent exit. “I’m going to take a look first.”

He stepped out of the main tent, took Yu Jiuling and a squad of personal guards, and rode out from the Ning army camp.

Between the Ning camp and the Yongzhou camp lay several dozen li of open ground — a wide, empty expanse of plain, unusual for Jingzhou. It was because of this flat land that Daxing City was called a heaven-chosen place. Jingzhou was a land of interlocking waterways and rolling hills; only around Daxing City did the terrain open into a broad plain. Like a brilliant pearl set in a still lake, that plain had fed the city through grain harvests for centuries, sustaining its prosperity across many hundreds of years.

Li Chi and his party stopped about ten li from the outer edge of the Yongzhou camp. Li Chi found a patch of slightly elevated ground and observed through his looking-glass from horseback.

To the north side of the Yongzhou camp was where the civilians had been herded together. There appeared to be very few tents to speak of.

Those people were like a flock of sheep penned in by wolves — afraid to run, unable to fight back.

“A million people require enormous grain consumption each day,” Li Chi murmured, glass still raised. “Even if Han Feibao is starving them — one meal a day — the quantity is still substantial.”

After a moment he lowered the glass. “If someone could find a way to slip inside, they’d spot the grain stores in the refugee camp immediately. They’d stick out clearly — heavy guard, unmissable.”

“Everyone inside is a refugee,” said Yu Jiuling, “but the grain is certainly under heavy guard. Get in there and you’d spot it in an instant.”

“If we could set fire to the grain in the refugee camp and turn the chaos to our advantage, the refugees would scatter,” said Li Chi.

Yu Jiuling looked at him. “Boss, let me take some men in to try.”

“No rush,” said Li Chi. “Let’s go look at the other side first.”

He kicked his horse forward off the high ground.

The party rode around to the flank of the Yongzhou camp, covering a full half day’s ride before they reached the eastern side. Li Chi found another elevated position and observed again — and after a while he deduced that the refugee encampment formed a crescent shape, curving around to create a half-circle of defense to the north.

“If we can set fire to the refugee camp and follow it with some kind of assault, the refugees will scatter,” said Li Chi, turning back to Yu Jiuling. “Let’s return and work out a plan.”

By the time they got back to the Ning camp, the sky had gone dark. Li Chi and the others found Tang Pi Di and called the generals together for another council.

After Li Chi finished laying it out, the Nalán tribal chief Bor Teh Chi Na said, “I can lead my light cavalry in a charge. A refugee camp like that won’t have proper weapons, armor, or any real formation defenses.”

Tang Pi Di shook his head. “I’ve looked. Han Feibao has issued those people sharpened wooden stakes. They haven’t been trained, but there are so many of them — and a dense hedge of stakes is exactly the bane of light cavalry.”

With that many people, the moment they pointed their stakes at the horsemen, the cavalry couldn’t charge.

Bor Teh Chi Na let out a frustrated sigh.

“Han Feibao is no fool,” said Li Chi. “Everything I’ve been thinking today, he’s probably already thought through — including the idea of burning the grain. If he doesn’t mind the inconvenience, he can resupply the refugee camp in small batches every few days, and there’d be nothing left to burn. Besides, without tents in the refugee camp, there’s nothing in the way of connected structures to torch.”

“I have an idea,” said Shen Shan Hu, turning to Li Chi. “My Lord, give me a few days to work out whether it’s feasible or not.”

Then she looked at Bor Teh Chi Na. “I’ll need the chief’s cooperation.”

“Just say the word,” Bor Teh Chi Na replied. “Whatever you need, I’ll do.”

The rest were all curious. They followed Shen Shan Hu out of the main tent and over toward Bor Teh Chi Na’s section of the camp.

The Nalán had come all the way from the grasslands, and in addition to his fifty thousand iron cavalry, he had brought vast numbers of cattle and sheep along. Grassland people were used to eating beef and mutton, and when they marched to war, the livestock they brought with them far outnumbered even the soldiers.

Shen Shan Hu pointed at the cattle herd. “If we can drive the cattle into a frenzy, and use a stampede to charge the refugee camp — it would be even more frightening than setting it on fire.”

Tang Pi Di nodded slowly. “There’s something to that.”

“Those million refugees aren’t unwilling to run — they’re simply too afraid to,” said Shen Shan Hu. “They fear Han Feibao’s soldiers. But if we use maddened cattle in the assault, and the refugees are more terrified of the cattle than of Han Feibao’s men, then…”

Yu Jiuling snapped his fingers. “Then it works!”

Tang Pi Di turned to look at Shen Shan Hu with open appreciation and raised a thumb. “Impressive. I came to look at these cattle two days ago and had the same thought — except all I was thinking about was how to eat them.”

Shen Shan Hu laughed. “I’m a woman. Women always have little ideas like this.”

Then came the testing phase: how to drive a single ox into a frenzy.

Bor Teh Chi Na laughed. “Easy. If you want the whole herd to go charging mad into the enemy, start by scaring the herd half to death first.”

—

On the other side.

Han Feibao stood outside his tent in deep thought. This battle — he had no absolute certainty of winning it either.

He had some understanding of how well the King of Ning’s army fought. To have any hope of winning, it all came down to whether the force he had kept hidden could do its work.

Tang Pi Di’s assessment had been correct: Han Feibao did indeed have a reserve force, hidden in woodland less than sixty li south of Daxing City.

The city had been sealed; no one could move freely in or out, so the Chu forces inside had never discovered this hidden force.

Just as Tang Pi Di was worried about the Chu troops in the city, Han Feibao too was worried about whether his hidden force would hold. If they held — he had the confidence to win. If they didn’t — this battle, on which he had staked everything, was lost entirely.

“Any news from the Holy Teacher’s people?” he called back over his shoulder.

His subordinate shook his head. “My Lord, we have had no word from the Holy Teacher for a long while, and there is no way to make inquiries.”

Han Feibao’s eyes narrowed.

“So — he’s already run,” he muttered to himself.

—