Night. Outside the estate of Prince Yu.
The gates of Prince Yu’s estate, long since sealed and confiscated, were shut tight. In the moonlight, the place had taken on a desolate air — a touch of gloom settling over the quiet darkness.
A patrol unit of Jizhou soldiers came marching in from a distance. The man at the head raised his right hand, and the column halted at once.
The leader, dressed in the uniform of a Jizhou military officer, scanned the surroundings, then pointed toward Prince Yu’s estate.
Several soldiers rushed forward, scaled the wall, and dropped down inside. From within, they unlatched a side door — the main gates were sealed with iron chains, difficult to force open and liable to draw attention.
The column of several hundred men filed swiftly through the side door. Those remaining outside re-secured the seals on the side entrance.
Had there not been a number of wounded who could not scale the wall, they would never have opened the sealed gate at all.
Once inside the courtyard, the officer removed his iron helmet and handed it to his personal guard. He noticed the moonlight reflected in a water vat some distance away, strode over quickly, cupped the water in his hands, and washed his face.
The cold water jolted him alert. His mind cleared a little.
“Young General.”
A man spoke in a low voice: “Are we to hide here for the time being?”
Luo Jing — disguised as a Jizhou officer — gave a small nod. “It’s safe enough here. We’ll lie low through the first half of the night. When fewer people are about in the second half, we’ll look for a chance to make it back to the underground palace.”
The one who had spoken was his personal guard officer, Luo Zhijie. He nodded, then returned to the unit to arrange sentries for rotating watch duty.
Before long Luo Zhijie came back. He too had been pushed to his absolute limit of exhaustion. Seeing Luo Jing seated on the steps, he walked over and crouched down before him. “Young General, shall I get you some rations?”
Luo Jing shook his head. “If you still have any rations on you, share them with the brothers.”
Luo Zhijie waved a soldier over, handed him the ration pouch, and told him to distribute it to the men.
Even so, he could not quite suppress his curiosity. “How did you figure it out, Young General — that the attack on the east gate wasn’t being led by the General himself?”
Luo Jing smiled. “My father’s way of waging war — would it ever be so shallow? Do you still remember — I had you send someone to tell my father that we were going to attack the east gate?”
Luo Zhijie nodded. “I remember.”
“Knowing my father as I do,” Luo Jing said, “he would deliberately let the Qingzhou or Yuzhou army go first. Do you know why?”
Luo Zhijie shook his head. “I can’t puzzle it out.”
Luo Jing smiled. “Whoever attacks first, whoever pushes to the front, ends up caught in the middle — hemmed in on all sides, unable to advance or retreat freely. When the real fighting starts, whoever is in the middle dies first.”
“If my father moves his troops, he’ll be behind the Yuzhou or Qingzhou forces. Those two are allies in name only. The moment I open the city gate, the two armies will immediately turn on each other — and my father, coming up from behind, can add fuel to the flames.”
Luo Zhijie said: “The General drives his troops through from behind both armies and wins a crushing victory.”
Luo Jing looked at him. “You know, when you’re sharp, you’re genuinely sharp — Father even told me I should learn from you. But when your mind goes dull, it really does go dull.”
Luo Zhijie was taken aback. For a moment he couldn’t grasp what the Young General meant. Had he guessed wrong?
“Father will of course attack from behind those two armies,” Luo Jing said, “but for the most part he’ll only be putting on a show — making people think he’s joined the fray. In a situation like this, naturally the later you commit your real force the better. What a pity that Cui Yanla can’t see it, and I doubt Liu Li — supposedly Prince Wu’s most capable and favored general — can see it either.”
Luo Zhijie turned this over carefully in his mind, and suddenly it came clear to him.
“The General, he…”
Luo Jing shook his head. “The situation is still uncertain. Father would never declare himself so quickly. A few months ago he sent me a letter — just eight characters: *Be patient. Watch for clear skies and cloudy ones.* He didn’t spell anything out, but I’ve more or less guessed his meaning.”
—
Meanwhile, on the city wall.
Zeng Ling had been leaning against the parapet, deep in thought for quite some time. No one dared disturb him — not even Liu Ge, who had come over despite his wounds, wanting to say something, but ultimately held himself back.
After a long while, Zeng Ling let out a slow breath, then gave a rueful smile.
Only then did he notice Liu Ge waiting some distance away. He called his name, and Liu Ge hurried over.
Zeng Ling reached out and steadied Liu Ge with a hand. “How is the wound?”
“Don’t worry, my lord,” Liu Ge said. “It’s nothing serious.”
Zeng Ling turned and looked out beyond the city wall. In the darkness, the torchlight outside stretched like a sea of stars.
“Can you see it clearly now?”
Zeng Ling asked Liu Ge.
Liu Ge had come to find him precisely because a thought had suddenly taken shape in his mind. He said, cautiously: “Luo Geng never intended to enter the fray at all — he’s been pushing others into it from behind?”
Zeng Ling nodded. “So you’ve already seen it — even before I did. Look at him, positioned behind the Qingzhou army, appearing to press hard — but in truth he’s forcing the Qingzhou forces forward to squeeze the Yuzhou army.”
Liu Ge nodded. “He didn’t want to commit his own strength, yet he compelled Cui Yanla to commit his. He pushed Liu Li’s Yuzhou troops to the very front — and then when the Yanshan Camp’s Green-Brow Army arrived, they got shoved back to the rear.”
Zeng Ling said: “It doesn’t matter who’s at the front, as long as someone is — Luo Geng will be grinning ear to ear.”
He exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting far into the distance, toward where Luo Geng’s Youzhou forces were encamped.
“Luo Geng deliberately held back at the end. Even if Cui Yanla had no intention of turning on the Yuzhou army — the moment Luo Geng’s main force pressed forward, the Qingzhou army would have had no choice but to push ahead…”
He sighed. “We all lost.”
Liu Ge asked: “My lord, should we not…”
Zeng Ling shook his head. “At this moment, no one can slip away — least of all me.”
He stared out toward the far distance, his voice heavy. “The orders Luo Geng received — they must have come from the new emperor of our Great Chu. I grew too proud. I forgot that the sky always rises with a new sun and shines with a new moon at night.”
He seemed to see it now — somewhere beyond his sight, the Emperor of Great Chu, laughing in quiet satisfaction.
But he was looking in the wrong direction.
—
To the northwest — roughly two hundred li beyond the Yanshan Camp’s main encampment, heading northwest — a great army advancing from Youzhou had not pressed onward in haste. The moment dusk fell, they had halted to rest.
Prince Wu, Yang Jiju, returned from the vanguard and walked up to a young man, bowing slightly. “Your Majesty, the night wind has turned cold. Perhaps you should retire to your tent and rest.”
“It’s fine.”
The Emperor of Great Chu, Yang Jing, smiled. “Royal Uncle’s assessment was accurate. On the battlefield, Luo Geng is decisive and ruthless — but off it, he is hesitant and indecisive, always looking over his shoulder.”
Prince Wu Yang Jiju said: “When your servant set out northward, I submitted to Your Majesty that among the six provinces of the central and northern territories, the only man who could be made use of by the court was Luo Geng.”
“Luo Geng harbors ambitions of rebellion, yet lacks the courage for it. He also craves reputation and public esteem. So all that was needed was to give him a title — to make him feel that Your Majesty valued him — and he would serve as Your Majesty’s vanguard.”
Yang Jing said: “If he truly can secure this battle decisively, what would be wrong with granting him the title of King of Youzhou?”
Yang Jiju laughed. “If Luo Geng truly received that title, he would throw his very life into it.”
Yang Jing let out a slow breath. “What concerns me most is the northern territory. In this campaign, Royal Uncle planned and deployed the whole strategy — one battle to settle the outcome. In my heart…”
He paused, glanced at Prince Wu, then collected himself. “In my heart I have always felt that only Royal Uncle is capable of turning the tide. I don’t know what words could properly convey to you how deeply grateful I am…”
Prince Wu quickly bowed. “Your servant is unworthy of such words.”
Yang Jing said: “When I left the capital, I told the court ministers that I had to see the north with my own eyes — that I wanted to watch in person as my Royal Uncle swept away the vermin with the armies of Great Chu, and to see with my own eyes how the thousands of li of northern territory are restored to the court’s authority.”
He pointed in the direction of Jizhou. “It is just up ahead. Not far now.”
Prince Wu counseled: “After this battle, Your Majesty should return to the capital as soon as possible. As for the northern territory — your servant can sweep it clean for Your Majesty.”
“I know,” said Yang Jing. “I only want to see with my own eyes what fate awaits those traitors.”
—
Several months prior, after Prince Wu’s forces had taken Qingzhou, Yang Jiju had dispatched a messenger to Youzhou, delivering to Luo Geng a personal letter — and, more critically, an imperial edict from His Majesty the Emperor of Great Chu.
Upon receiving the edict and the prince’s personal letter, Luo Geng had wrestled with himself for a very long time.
The Emperor’s intent was plain: so long as Luo Geng was willing to assist Prince Wu in purging all rebel forces from the northern territories, the Emperor would enfeoff him as King of Youzhou, with authority over all military affairs in the north.
Moreover, the title of King of Youzhou would be hereditary, passing to his descendants in perpetuity.
For Luo Geng, this was a temptation of immense magnitude — one nearly impossible to refuse.
Luo Geng had guarded the northern frontier of Great Chu for so many years, yet had held no rank above that of a Fourth Grade general. How deep must the resentment and bitterness inside him have run?
During the old Emperor’s reign, Liu Chongxin had always insisted that Luo Geng harbored treasonous intentions, and so had kept him suppressed at every turn.
Only shortly before the old Emperor’s death — when the north had grown too chaotic to ignore — was Luo Geng promoted to Senior Third Grade General.
But was Luo Geng truly content with that?
Looking back over the past twenty years, the only man who could claim military achievements rivaling his was Dantai Qi of Liangzhou.
The new Emperor was willing to enfeoff him as a king of a different surname — an honor unprecedented since the founding of Great Chu. Once granted the title, Luo Geng would stand as the first such person in the dynasty’s history.
And the Emperor’s manner — how could Luo Geng remain unmoved? The old Emperor had thought little of him yet had been forced to use him, pressing down on him for twenty years. The new Emperor had barely ascended the throne and already wished to grant him a royal title.
The contrast between the two sovereigns’ attitudes could not have been more stark.
And so Luo Geng deliberated at length, and at last resolved to answer the court’s summons. To be safe, he had not made his decision clearly known even to his own son.
His concern was that Luo Jing, young and impetuous, might drink too much one night and let slip the matter. Zeng Ling was a wily old fox — Luo Geng could not afford to be careless.
What pushed Luo Geng to his final decision was not only the Emperor’s attitude, but also Prince Wu Yang Jiju’s successive victories. Prince Wu had taken Yuzhou and then Qingzhou — with these two territories restored to the court, Luo Geng had begun to see real hope for a revival of Great Chu.
Given a choice between being a rebel and being the King of Youzhou, he genuinely preferred the latter.
And so Luo Geng cooperated with Prince Wu, and began laying his arrangements in Jizhou.
To prevent Qingzhou’s Cui Yanla and Yuzhou’s Liu Li from growing suspicious, he even invited both men to Youzhou to confer — and not only them, he also invited Yu Chaozong of the Yanshan Camp.
Who would come and who would not — he had already judged in his heart. None of them would come, as it turned out. Cui Yanla and Liu Li sent only special envoys to negotiate on their behalf.
This campaign was Emperor Yang Jing’s determined effort to reclaim the northern territories. Luo Geng knew that Prince Wu would commit fully. What he had not anticipated was that the Emperor himself had come.
—
Beneath the night sky.
Yang Jing stood on a rise of ground, gazing into the distance.
“Royal Uncle… I have always been wondering: why, when Great Chu was first founded, could it sweep all before it and leave no one capable of opposing it?”
“I thought about this for a very long time, and finally came to understand. The founding Emperor’s unrivaled brilliance in civil governance and military affairs was certainly the foremost reason — but there was another reason as well. The founding Emperor knew the hardship of winning a realm, and therefore understood the difficulty of holding one. But afterward, my imperial ancestors — they all forgot that the realm had not been easily won. Every one of them was born simply waiting for that seat. Waiting…”
Yang Jing paused, and looked at Prince Wu. “What I am doing now is not governing a realm that already exists. I am following in the footsteps of the founding Emperor, conquering it all over again.”
He exhaled heavily.
“The Yang clan brought all corners of the realm to submission several hundred years ago, and can do so again today. The founding Emperor fought for this realm through such tremendous hardship — yet centuries later, it has been carved apart and seized by one parasite after another. I will take it all back. Great Chu shall endure for ten thousand generations: begun by the founding Emperor, continued by me.”
Prince Wu dropped to one knee. “Long live His Majesty — ten thousand years, ten thousand upon ten thousand years!”
—