Outside Meicheng, the Ning Army’s camp had been fully erected. It stretched on and on like something without end — a sight that naturally bore down on the city’s defenders with tremendous pressure.

And in truth, this was only a third of the total Ning forces that had entered Shu Province.

Tantai Yajing had led his army toward the southwest of Shu; Shen Shanhu had led hers toward the northwest; a portion of the force had been left to hold the territory already taken. Adding in Tang Ancheng’s forces that had entered Shu from the western frontier, the combined total exceeded six hundred thousand troops.

To ordinary people, six hundred thousand might be just a number — large, but perhaps not viscerally staggering. Yet anyone who had ever stood in the presence of an army knew that even ten thousand soldiers was enough to make the skin crawl.

Now, standing on Meicheng’s walls, the young Shu general Guan Zaixin’s eyes were sharp and bright.

Others saw the city as facing a crisis of unprecedented scale. Guan Zaixin simply wanted to find an opponent worthy of him.

His martial skill had come from his father, but had surpassed his father by the time he was in his teens. His father had also taken on many disciples and had guided more than a few officers in the military. These men were not from the most prominent families, but among the mid- and lower-ranking officer corps they carried real weight.

With Guan Zaixin’s background, there was no path that would have let him vault over the many great houses of Shu to reach the very top of the military hierarchy. But within the rank and file and among the great majority of soldiers, he held a position no one could shake.

The soldiers all said Guan Zaixin was the finest fighter in all of Shu — military fighters, that is. Those who served in armies had no respect for the wandering fighters of the jianghu.

“General,” Guan Zaixin said, turning to the commander beside him on the walls, Pei Xuecheng. “I have an idea.”

Pei Xuecheng nodded. “Let’s hear it.”

Guan Zaixin gathered his thoughts. He was a man of great martial gifts but modest gifts for words, and no talent at all for eloquence or flowery composition.

So he spoke plainly.

“General, I think we need to do something to raise the morale of the troops.”

Pei Xuecheng asked: “How do you propose to raise it?”

Guan Zaixin raised a hand and pointed toward the enemy camp. “If we only defend and never strike back, the longer this drags on, the more morale will sag. If we ride out and fight, even just to take the edge off the enemy’s confidence, it would put fire back into our troops.”

Pei Xuecheng’s brow furrowed. “You want to ride out and issue a direct challenge?”

Guan Zaixin said: “I do. If we ride out and challenge the Ning forces openly, it might have an extraordinary effect.”

Pei Xuecheng didn’t answer at once. He thought.

After a long silence, he said: “You should know — if you go out there and are defeated, you likely won’t be coming back.”

The words *won’t be coming back* carried more than one meaning. It wasn’t only that the Ning forces would refuse to release Guan Zaixin. It held another implication as well — Meicheng’s walls were tall and reinforced; beyond the gates lay a moat, and a drawbridge. If Guan Zaixin was routed and the Ning Army pursued too closely, Pei Xuecheng could not afford to lower the bridge for him.

“I understand, General.”

Pei Xuecheng asked: “You understand that, and still come to me with this proposal — so I imagine you have thought it through carefully. The men’s spirits are indeed flagging; everyone feels a weight pressing down. If we could blunt the enemy’s edge, it would certainly benefit us when the real fighting comes.”

Guan Zaixin’s eyes lit up. “Then the general agrees?”

“You may go,” Pei Xuecheng said. “But remember — if something goes wrong, even if you have to abandon the men who ride out with you, make your way back as fast as you can. I cannot leave the drawbridge down for long.”

“Understood!”

Guan Zaixin was flushed with excitement. He clasped his hands in salute and left the walls immediately to go prepare.

He currently held the rank of fourth-rank general in the Shu Army, with several thousand cavalry and infantry under his command. For this challenge, Pei Xuecheng could not spare him any more troops — he would go out with his own battalion.

When everything was ready, at first light the next day, Guan Zaixin led his four thousand eight hundred Shu troops to wait inside the city gates.

With General Pei Xuecheng’s authorization, the south gate of Meicheng swung open, and the troops surged out like a tide.

The moment the drawbridge dropped, cavalry first and infantry after, they thundered across the moat.

When they had closed to within four or five li of the Ning camp, Guan Zaixin ordered the formation to halt, then sent several personal guards forward to issue the challenge.

The Ning forces were of course under no obligation to accept.

But since time immemorial, whenever an enemy issued a challenge and the challenged side refused to answer, the effect on their own morale was devastating.

“Our General Guan has heard that your army has men of surpassing skill with the long spear — a certain Tang Pidi, and a certain Tantai Yajing! Our general wishes to experience the spearwork of these two masters and invites them to come out and face him in single combat! Listen well — come out, if you have the courage!”

“If your courage falls somewhat short, and you dare not face our general one on one — come out together, both of you! Our general will face you two at once and will not shrink from it!”

The guards called out at the Ning camp’s edge, their words growing steadily more provocative.

They knew full well that the great general Tang Pidi was not in Shu, and that Tantai Yajing was not here either. Their shouting was completely deliberate.

Had either of those men truly been present, Guan Zaixin would never have dared make such a challenge.

The point of these words was to provoke Gao Zhen.

Guan Zaixin knew perfectly well that aside from Tang Pidi and Tantai Yajing, there was a third man in the Ning Army renowned for his spearwork — Gao Zhen. Rumor said this man had received the true transmission of Luo Jing’s art, and possessed a valor that ten thousand men could not match.

Guan Zaixin had chosen his target deliberately: he needed someone who could be provoked by words. His men named only Tang Pidi and Tantai Yajing; they did not name Gao Zhen. But anyone who had come to fame young had sharp edges, daring, and a spine that would not bend.

Once Gao Zhen heard the shouting, he would come out to answer it. That much was certain.

Inside the Ning Army’s main command tent, Li Chi sat discussing the logistics of supply with his officers. Soldiers came in to report: Shu Army officers had come forward to issue a challenge, specifically requesting that skilled spear-fighters from the Ning Army come out to meet them.

Li Chi heard it and understood the situation at once. He smiled.

“It seems the Shu forces are short on morale.”

Yu Jiuling said: “As might be expected.”

Xiahou Zhuo said: “So they want to send someone out to challenge us — hoping to defeat one of our officers and use the victory to lift their spirits.”

Gao Zhen, as expected, stepped forward. “My liege, allow me to go teach that presumptuous man a lesson.”

Li Chi said: “Let him shout for a while. You’ll go out shortly.”

Gao Zhen understood the intention. Right now the Shu general must be at the very peak of his fighting spirit — filled with certainty of victory, his will at its sharpest.

Li Chi’s meaning was: make him wait. Let the man grow anxious and restless outside; when impatience and irritation set in, then send Gao Zhen.

But what Gao Zhen had learned from Luo Jing wasn’t only spearwork — it was also the pride that ran through every bone in Luo Jing’s body.

He didn’t want to win this way. It felt meaningless to him.

So Gao Zhen stepped forward again. “My liege, doing it that way might let those Shu troops think too little of us. Let me go out now — swift and decisive, and we break their nerve.”

Li Chi knew Gao Zhen’s abilities. He also knew Gao Zhen’s character. And so he did not intend to simply send him out like this.

In his very best form, at the peak of his state, Gao Zhen was so formidable that even Tantai Yajing might not be able to beat him.

But Gao Zhen was precisely the kind of man whose heart was not steady. The slightest setback could make him flare up and lose his footing.

Still, Gao Zhen urged his case with genuine feeling, insisting again and again. Xiahou Zhuo, watching, said: “I’ll go with him and keep watch. Nothing serious should come of it.”

When even Xiahou Zhuo weighed in, Li Chi agreed.

Yu Jiuling said: “Youth — never able to hold still. But perhaps that’s not a bad thing either, at his age.”

Li Chi said: “He has things in his character that even he cannot control. If he were truly both sharp-edged and steady, he would not still be at the rank he is.”

Li Chi walked to the entrance of the tent and watched the direction in which Xiahou Zhuo and Gao Zhen had gone, saying nothing for a long while.

It was then that Yu Jiuling understood what the liege had just said.

Gao Zhen was Luo Jing’s disciple — the man Luo Jing had personally discovered and trained as his true heir. After Luo Jing’s death in battle, Li Chi had tried several times to give Gao Zhen greater responsibility and rank, and each time it had been delayed because of Gao Zhen himself.

After Luo Jing’s death, Gao Zhen had become deeply despondent — nearly abandoned everything out of grief. That was loyalty and deep feeling, and Li Chi would not fault him for it.

But the low period had gone on so long. If not for Tang Pidi and Li Chi continuously looking in on him, Gao Zhen might have gone to ruin entirely.

In truth, he still fell short of Luo Jing by a considerable margin.

If Luo Jing had suffered a setback and been stung by it, he would have ached — but what would have burned in him even more was a ferocious, iron-willed *I am going to win that back.*

A setback would not truly defeat Luo Jing. But Gao Zhen — it could.

In his good days, Gao Zhen had an air about him — *the world is wide; who can match me?* In adversity, he grew frantic, and sometimes lost all sense of direction.

In terms of natural talent for the martial path, Gao Zhen could claim standing alongside Tang Pidi. But the gap between their achievements was enormous, and all of it came down to character.

Yu Jiuling drifted over to stand beside Li Chi and said with a small smile: “Young men — sometimes taking a few hard knocks is good for them. Hasn’t Gao Zhen already matured quite a bit compared to before?”

Li Chi said: “If he had truly matured so much, he would not have insisted just now on going out to face the enemy immediately.”

He paused briefly, then said: “He still hasn’t understood the difference between confidence and arrogance.”

Yu Jiuling himself didn’t fully understand that distinction, and didn’t quite grasp either what Li Chi was placing so much hope in Gao Zhen to become.

If Gao Zhen ever truly matured into what he could be — Li Chi wanted to send him to do larger things. Tasks like the campaign to pursue and destroy Han Feibao. Did that really require the great general Tang Pidi to go personally?

If Gao Zhen were ready, he would not be leading just the Wolf Ape Battalion as a vanguard commander in Shu.

Yu Jiuling was on the verge of saying something else when he suddenly spotted someone running back toward them at full speed in the distance.

“My liege!”

The soldier reached them, panting hard. “General Gao… lost.”

In that moment, Yu Jiuling’s eyes went wide.

Li Chi asked quietly: “Where is he?”

The soldier answered: “He took a wound. General Xiahou pulled him back. They’re on their way in now.”

Li Chi let out a slow breath and nodded. “Go fetch the physicians.”