Gao Zhen was severely wounded. At this level of combat, injuries were often fatal blows.

He hadn’t died because of the soft armor Li Chi had prepared for all his generals, and because he was young — his reflexes had been fast enough.

At the start, there had been no clear advantage between him and Guan Zaixing.

Guan Zaixing was seven or eight years older than Gao Zhen, with richer experience, so the two had traded dozens of exchanges with neither gaining the upper hand.

Yet Guan Zaixing could see clearly — despite the even match, this young man was growing increasingly anxious.

He guessed it was because the young man was too eager to distinguish himself.

So Guan Zaixing devised a plan: he deliberately exposed an opening, feigned weakness, and lured Gao Zhen into giving chase.

Gao Zhen, truly believing his opponent had grown afraid and that a rare chance to kill the enemy had presented itself, spurred his horse and gave pursuit.

Both men were master spear fighters. In a truly fair, one-on-one duel fought to its conclusion, the most likely outcome would have been mutual defeat.

But at that moment, Gao Zhen was indeed anxious. He had boasted before the Prince of Ning that he would end things quickly, and after dozens of exchanges with no decisive result, he already felt his face burning with shame — not to mention that Grand General Xiahou Zhuo was watching from the battle line, which made his urgency all the worse.

When a young man wants to prove himself, there will always be moments of recklessness.

Some acts of recklessness bring only minor consequences — perhaps that is why people say one learns from one’s mistakes.

Other acts of recklessness bring consequences that are… death.

The pursuing Gao Zhen truly believed his opponent could not match him, and so let his guard down.

He chased Guan Zaixing from behind and drove his spear toward the man’s back.

But who could have anticipated it — Guan Zaixing suddenly twisted his body to the side, hanging off his horse sideways, and in the same motion thrust his spear back, striking Gao Zhen squarely in the chest.

The force behind that thrust was tremendous. It drove straight through Gao Zhen’s heart mirror guard, and had there not been a layer of chain mail beneath, that single strike would have pierced him clean through.

In the moment of impact, Gao Zhen instinctively flinched away. The spear tip sliced open a gash in the chain mail but failed to reach his heart.

Guan Zaixing was not about to give him any chance to escape. He wheeled his horse around and drove his spear toward Gao Zhen’s throat.

In desperation, Gao Zhen threw himself flat against his horse’s neck, hugging the animal and doing nothing but fleeing.

Guan Zaixing gave relentless pursuit, thrusting again and catching Gao Zhen in the back. Though the chain mail kept it from going too deep, blood poured freely from the wound.

As Gao Zhen fled, Grand General Xiahou Zhuo was already spurring his horse to the rescue.

The Shu cavalry behind Guan Zaixing, seeing the Ning army closing in, surged out to support him.

What had started as a duel between two generals turned into a full melee.

Fresh from his victory, Guan Zaixing’s morale was at its peak. He charged back and forth through the press of men as though riding through empty ground.

Under ordinary circumstances, had Xiahou Zhuo seen such brazen behavior, he would have ridden forward to engage. But after rescuing Gao Zhen, he dared not linger, and drove straight back to the Ning army camp.

The Ning army suffered considerable losses as Guan Zaixing cut left and right through their ranks, unable to form any encirclement around him.

In the end, Guan Zaixing broke through with his men and rode away with swaggering arrogance.

After the Shu army withdrew a few li, a group of men shouted at the top of their lungs, declaring that the man ranked third with the spear among the Ning army was nothing more than a brute.

They shouted louder and louder, thoroughly pleased with themselves.

Xiahou Zhuo brought Gao Zhen back to the main camp and went directly to the command tent, where Li Chi had already been waiting with the physicians.

After dismounting, Xiahou Zhuo had Gao Zhen carried away for treatment. His expression was somewhat subdued as he walked to Li Chi’s side.

“Your eye for people is, as always, accurate,” Xiahou Zhuo said, his voice low.

Li Chi raised his hand and patted Xiahou Zhuo on the shoulder, asking if he was injured. Xiahou Zhuo shook his head to indicate he was fine.

“Before he went out…” Xiahou Zhuo said. “I warned him — an opponent who dares issue a challenge must have come prepared, and that his martial skill should not be underestimated. I told him not to be careless…”

Li Chi shook his head, gesturing for Xiahou Zhuo to say no more. Xiahou Zhuo understood that continuing would risk affecting the morale of the others, and so he fell silent.

Before long, a physician came to report that Gao Zhen’s injuries were serious — particularly the spear wound to his back, which appeared to have struck the spine. A more thorough examination was needed before anything could be confirmed, but if the spine was truly damaged, he might never wield a weapon again.

Li Chi looked at Gao Zhen lying face-down in the tent, drowsy from medicine and falling into sleep, and felt a deep pang of guilt.

He was the commanding lord. Had he firmly refused to let Gao Zhen go out to fight, Gao Zhen would not have dared push the matter.

“Send someone to bring all the physicians from the Shen Medical Hall in the army,” Li Chi ordered, then turned and walked away.

Xiahou Zhuo sensed what was weighing on Li Chi’s mind and quickly followed.

The two walked toward the camp entrance, and while still some distance away, they could hear the Shu army still shouting in the distance.

Having gained the upper hand, the Shu soldiers were riding high on their victory, hurling insults without pause.

“I’ll go deal with him,” Xiahou Zhuo said.

Li Chi shook his head. “You can’t go. You are the supreme commander of this army — a Grand General. If you ride out to exchange blows with him, people will look down on you for it.”

“We can’t allow them to be so insolent either,” Xiahou Zhuo said.

“They won,” Li Chi replied. “Let them be insolent.”

The two walked to the camp entrance and looked out. The Shu cavalry did not dare come too close, shouting themselves hoarse from several li away.

After about an hour of this — perhaps from exhaustion, or perhaps because they assumed the Ning army would send no more challengers — they withdrew to Mei City.

Not long after their return, the sound of war drums drifted from atop the city walls, followed by the cheers of the Shu army.

The next morning, barely after dawn, Guan Zaixing arrived again outside the Ning camp with a cavalry force of roughly three thousand men.

The day before, Pei Xuecheng had worried that a defeat might invite a Ning army pursuit, and had allowed Guan Zaixing to bring only his personal troops. Now, seeing the fine cavalry behind him, it appeared Pei Xuecheng had recognized Guan Zaixing’s potential and specially selected riders for him.

Guan Zaixing sent men to taunt and shout outside the Ning camp. Inside, countless generals stepped forward to request permission to engage.

Li Chi refused them all, ordering that no one was to leave camp without his word.

For the entire day, the Shu army provoked and taunted without pause — yet without Li Chi’s word, the Ning generals could not ride out to meet the challenge.

This only emboldened Guan Zaixing further. He sent a rider galloping up to the very edge of the Ning camp, brandishing a spear aloft as a taunt.

That spear was Gao Zhen’s — dropped on the ground during his defeat and retrieved by the Shu soldiers. To them it was a treasure, a trophy beyond measure.

“If anyone dares come out and fight our General Guan, never mind who wins — this spear, discarded by your defeated general yesterday, will be presented as a gift to whoever accepts the challenge today!”

“Or, if you want the spear back, have that Gao Zhen crawl out and take it himself. Our General Guan says — as long as Gao Zhen can crawl out here, the spear will be returned to him.”

Inside the Ning camp’s command tent, the generals wore expressions of barely suppressed fury. They had already requested permission to fight numerous times, and been refused each time.

“My lord.” General Liu Ge stepped forward again. “Your servant requests permission to engage.”

Li Chi glanced at him and shook his head. “No need.”

Liu Ge had not been among the first generals to follow Li Chi into Shu. He had come afterward, leading a force back to Jing Province’s capital of Daxing after pacifying Yue Province, assigned by Counselor Yan to escort a shipment of grain and supplies to Shu — arriving not long ago.

“My lord! Your servant is willing to ride out!”

“My lord, please grant your servant permission to engage!”

One by one the voices rang out, proof that the Ning generals had been truly maddened with indignation.

Li Chi simply shook his head and refused.

On the third day, again just before dawn, Guan Zaixing arrived once more with three thousand cavalry.

This time he had his men wave a red banner back and forth in front of the Ning camp as they rode.

Li Chi was standing outside his tent waiting. Soon a physician emerged from within and bowed deeply: “General Gao’s injuries are not as grave as feared. Although the spear touched the spine, it did not cause serious damage.”

Li Chi nodded. “Will it affect his training and martial practice going forward?”

“My lord,” the physician replied, “after a proper recovery it should pose no lasting problem. The General is young and in good health, so provided the wound heals cleanly, there should be no lasting harm.”

Li Chi felt a wave of relief pass through him.

By the fourth day, Guan Zaixing came again — and by now his daring had reached its peak.

He left his three thousand cavalry waiting several li back and rode to the Ning camp entrance alone to shout his challenge.

He had expected the Ning army to again refuse to engage, but at that very moment the camp gate opened and Xiahou Zhuo rode out — alone, unarmed, and without armor.

Guan Zaixing gripped his spear, bracing for a fierce battle. But Xiahou Zhuo rode up and stopped, speaking across the distance:

“There is no need for you to keep coming. The reason no one has responded to you is not that there is no one willing to fight — it is that Gao Zhen, whom you wounded, insists on fighting you himself.”

“If you can wait, go back and wait. In a few days, General Gao will come to the gates of your Mei City and issue the challenge himself.”

With those words, Xiahou Zhuo turned and rode back inside.

Guan Zaixing stood stunned for a moment, then let out a long breath. He thought to himself — so that young Ning general hadn’t died after all, and he had the nerve to issue such a challenge. He was, in truth, a man worthy of respect.

And so Guan Zaixing returned to Mei City, and did not come to taunt outside the Ning camp again.

Inside the Ning camp.

Gao Zhen lay face-down on his bed, and that hollow, lifeless expression had returned to his face — the same expression he had worn when he first heard that Luo Jing had died in battle.

Fang Biehan, the deputy commander of the Wolf Ape Battalion, walked in from outside. He glanced at Gao Zhen’s expression, then walked slowly to the bedside and sat down.

He set the food he had brought beside the bed, sat in silence for a moment, said nothing, and rose to leave.

He was about to go when Gao Zhen called out to stop him.

“Did that man come to issue his challenge again today?”

Fang Biehan nodded. “He did.”

“Did our lord send anyone out to fight?”

Fang Biehan shook his head. “No.”

Gao Zhen let out a long, heavy breath. “It is because of my loss that I have brought shame upon our lord, and shame upon the entire army.”

“The food is there,” Fang Biehan said. “Eat when you’re hungry.”

He turned to leave again.

“Is it because I lost that you can’t even bring yourself to say a few words to me?” Gao Zhen called after him.

Fang Biehan paused. “It’s not that I’m unwilling to talk to you. It’s that I have no desire to talk to a good-for-nothing. You probably don’t know yet — just now, Grand General Xiahou went out to speak to that General Guan. He told him that the reason the Prince of Ning sent no one out was not out of fear, but because they were waiting for General Gao to recover before fighting again.”

At those words, Gao Zhen sat bolt upright.

He stared in disbelief and asked, “Our lord truly said that?”

“Our lord believes in you — believes your next fight with that Guan fellow will wash away this defeat. And yet you don’t believe in yourself. You think you’re already broken…”

Fang Biehan sighed. “You’ve given up on yourself, and there’s nothing I can say to change that. All I will say is this: if you truly have no courage left to fight again, then go tell our lord plainly — tell him you are afraid, that you are finished, and that you cannot fight any longer. Ask him to choose someone else.”

“I am not finished!”

Gao Zhen shouted, then turned and looked at the food beside him. He reached out and grabbed a braised pork bone with one hand and a steamed bun with the other, and ate with ravenous, wolfing urgency.

“Go tell our lord for me — give me three days. In three days, I will go to the gates of Mei City and make that man come out to face me again. And tell our lord one more thing: when I fight next time, I want our lord there to watch.”

—