After the new Emperor Yang Zhuo ascended the throne, he changed the reign name to Jianshi. This was the second year of his reign — the first year of Jianshi.

This young Emperor had barely taken his first steps toward realizing his ideals when obstacles came rushing at him from every direction.

In the first year of Jianshi, in the eleventh month, not a scrap of good news arrived.

Of Dachu’s thirteen prefectures: first, the Yangzhou Military Commissioner defied an imperial edict — the Emperor had ordered Commissioner Kang Zhong to suppress the Boshān Army, and Kang Zhong submitted a memorial requesting that the court dispatch troops in support and supply large quantities of military equipment, grain, and provisions.

Word of this reached the Boshān Army’s Li Xionghu, who took the opportunity to formally declare himself a king in the southern frontier region under the title King Shun.

Kang Zhong had no intention of attacking him, and so Li Xionghu launched his own campaigns against the surrounding counties and prefectures — plunging the southern frontier once more into the chaos of war.

As if in answer to Li Xionghu, Yang Xuanji of Shuzhou issued a proclamation and led an army of one hundred and eighty thousand men out of the mountains.

The Shuzhou Military Commissioner Lin Yungong had long been Yang Xuanji’s man — he declared his submission outright and was enfeoffed by Yang Xuanji as King of Shu.

The realm seemed to have no intention of giving Yang Zhuo the time to proceed step by careful step.

With little other recourse, Yang Zhuo issued an edict recalling Prince Wu’s army from Yuzhou and dispatching it to Shuzhou to intercept Yang Xuanji.

This young Emperor full of lofty aspirations lamented yet again that he had no one he could rely on — apart from his aging royal uncle, there was truly no one he could entrust with the weighty tasks of the realm.

In the north, the situation appeared calmer — but only appeared so. Everyone was waiting for Prince Wu to leave Yuzhou. Now the moment had come.

In the north, no one dared confront Prince Wu’s army directly. The Qingzhou Military Commissioner Cui Yanlai and the Yuzhou Military Commissioner Liu Li were living proof of that.

When news spread that Prince Wu’s army had barely reached Yuzhou before being ordered to march south, the people in the north began to stir.

The impact of Emperor Yang Jing’s scheme to kill the three military commissioners was already beginning to surface — and it was growing.

Yanzhou Military Commissioner Zhou Shiren was planning a second military expedition. This time, there would be no Luo Geng to cut him off halfway.

Youzhou’s Luo Geng had never been a man to trifle with. The court’s persistent refusal to appoint a Youzhou Military Commissioner said it all.

The court’s stance toward Luo Geng had always been contradictory: it wanted and needed to use him, but also wanted to suppress him, ever fearful of his growing power. Under these conflicting pressures, Luo Geng’s patience had finally reached its limit.

But the north was not merely the stage for conflicts between regional military powers. There was also the Baishan Army in Qingzhou, backed by the Bohai Kingdom, which commanded over one hundred thousand troops. Once the Qingzhou Army departed, there was nothing to pen that fierce tiger in.

After the Yanshan Camp’s original defeat in Jizhou, the wreckage had given rise to a new sprawl of confusion. Most of the defeated Yanshan Camp soldiers had been taken prisoner, but not all of them. A dozen-odd groups — some numbering several thousand, others a few hundred — had scattered across Jizhou, each finding a corner to dig in.

In the eleventh month of the first year of Jianshi, the defeated Sixth Leader Xilizi made his way to Linbing County in the northwest, where he managed to absorb a force of straggler Yanshan Camp troops — over a thousand men in all. They seized the county seat.

The whole realm was like a vast pond. When the rain had held off, the surface was a still mirror. Now the rain had come, and the ripples were rising in more places than one could count.

Xinzhou.

Li Chi carefully turned over the plan Yu Chaozong had devised, thinking it through once more. The broad outline was sound. But the details demanded careful consideration.

What if Huangjia refused to open the gate? Or what if he opened it, but first assembled his army to encircle them, demanding the Xinzhou troops lay down their weapons?

The initiative, in truth, lay with Huangjia.

If Li Chi led Liu Ge’s troops in disguise to the Yanshan Camp’s gates and Huangjia ordered them to disarm and shed their armor before entering the stronghold — then what?

Matters on the battlefield never followed a single fixed path.

After much deliberation, Li Chi concluded the scheme was feasible, but its odds of success were perhaps no better than three in ten.

Yet three in ten was still worth attempting. Xinzhou was small, its grain stores limited. The provisions they were currently drawing upon were what the Yanshan Camp had allocated here previously — and within a month, that supply would run dry.

So on the first day of the eleventh month, Li Chi led his forces out on campaign.

By all logic, deep northern winter was the most unsuitable season for military action. Without pressing need, no one chose to march and fight in such weather.

The current state of affairs had made it a necessity.

Riding on horseback, Yu Jiuling seemed lost in thought — unusually and remarkably quiet. That was highly out of the ordinary.

Even Li Chi noticed something was off. He asked: “You’ve been furrowing your brow and sighing for a while now — what are you thinking about?”

Yu Jiuling looked at Li Chi when he heard the question, with a hint of self-deprecation: “Clearly without much education, I genuinely can’t come up with anything impressive.”

Li Chi didn’t follow. He asked: “Come up with what?”

Yu Jiuling said: “This is your first formal military campaign. This army is your first army — not anyone else’s, but yours. A moment this important, this significant — don’t you feel like something is missing?”

He continued: “This unit needs a name. Something with presence and force — the kind of name that chills people to the bone the moment they hear it. And one that tells everyone who hears it: this is Li Chi’s army.”

Yu Jiuling was not wrong. This was a force flying the banner of the Lüméi Army with not a drop of Lüméi Army blood in it.

Hearing Yu Jiuling raise the point, the others all felt he had a point too, and a general discussion started up.

But General Liu Ge simply smiled, then turned and gave an order to those behind him: “Bring the banner forward!”

A soldier opened a pack and drew out a large banner of blazing crimson. Liu Ge took it in both hands and presented it to Li Chi with a formal bow.

“Yesterday, Young Lady Gao had this sent to me.”

Liu Ge said: “The characters on this banner were written personally by Gao Yuanzhang, and the needlework is Xiahou’s Lady’s own, every stitch of it.”

Li Chi was visibly moved.

The two of them unfolded the banner. Against a field of red, a single character — sharp and cutting as a blade, charged with a fierce martial spirit.

*Chi.*

Mister Yan said to Li Chi: “This red cloth was originally bridal fabric Gao Xining’s godmother had set aside for her wedding dress. Gao Xining said: this is your first campaign — you must have a battle flag. So she had the wedding cloth made into a flag. The character is Gao Yuanzhang’s brushwork; your godmother sewed it with her own hands. I believe — there is not another flag in this world that matters more.”

Li Chi drew a slow, deep breath and let his hand pass gently over the fabric.

Yu Jiuling burst out laughing: “Ha! Perfect — perfect — perfect! Brothers! From today on, Li Chi’s army is called the Chi Army!”

Even in this moment, another thought had already formed in Li Chi’s mind.

He handed the battle flag to Yu Jiuling and said: “Keep it safe for now. When we’ve won the battle for the Yanshan Camp, we raise it at the moment of victory.”

Yu Jiuling answered at once and folded the flag with great care, then tucked it reverently into his pack.

He carried this flag on his back and felt his blood stirring in his chest — barely able to resist the urge to tilt his head back and bellow at the sky.

Several days later, the force arrived at the foot of Yanshan.

Outside the mountain gate, the unit halted. Zhao Xu led men forward and called out in a loud voice: announcing the return of the Xinzhou force, requesting that the mountain gate be opened.

Word was swiftly carried up to Huangjia. Upon hearing it, Huangjia immediately came out to the wall himself.

He looked down at the force on the mountain road. The numbers seemed about right. He examined Zhao Xu below the wall. Nothing obviously wrong.

But Huangjia had no intention of simply letting the force in. He called down from the wall: “Zhao Xu — have your men set down all their weapons. Leave the horses too. Then you and your men fall back ten li.”

Zhao Xu shouted up: “Commander — what do you mean by this? Don’t you trust your own brothers? Do you have any idea what that does to men’s hearts?!”

Huangjia said: “Your weapons and horses are only temporarily in my keeping. I’ll bring them into the stronghold first, and once I’ve had your quarters arranged and you’re all settled, everything will be returned to you without exception.”

Zhao Xu raged: “If you trust us so little, why did you send someone to call us back?!”

Huangjia said: “If you do as I say, I naturally trust you. If you can’t fulfill even this simple request, why should I trust you?”

Zhao Xu stood in place, uncertain how to proceed, then turned and withdrew.

He returned to the ranks and relayed Huangjia’s words in full. This was within Li Chi’s expectations.

He had brought his force here because the three-in-ten odds were worth a try. If the gate had simply opened and the unit walked in, so much the better.

“Let me try.”

Yu Chaozong exhaled slowly: “Let me see whether I can get this gate to open.”

Li Chi was uneasy. He suspected that Huangjia would never so easily surrender the position of supreme commander that had already fallen into his hands.

He reached out for a shield, then personally took hold of Yu Chaozong’s wooden wheelchair and pushed it forward along the mountain path, stopping just outside the gate. Li Chi stood beside Yu Chaozong, shield in hand.

Yu Chaozong tilted his head back to look up at the top of the gate, steadied his breathing, gathered his strength, and shouted: “Huangjia — where are you?!”

Up on the wall, Huangjia heard the voice and flinched — the color draining from his face in an instant. He gripped the parapet with both hands and leaned forward, staring hard.

“Huangjia — have you forgotten me?”

Yu Chaozong called out: “Why don’t you open the gate?!”

Huangjia’s expression shifted through a rapid succession of changes. Those around him had already erupted in confusion — more than one person had recognized the man below as the chief, the Commander.

Huangjia knew with perfect clarity: if he did not act decisively right now, once the news spread through the entire force, the soldiers’ hearts would shatter.

“A bow!”

Huangjia called out.

Someone hurried to place a bow in his hands.

Huangjia nocked an arrow and drew back the string, then shouted down: “How dare you send someone to impersonate our Elder Brother — Zhao Xu! You’re trying to seize the stronghold — and you dare desecrate Elder Brother’s memory and betray the kindness he showed you all his life! You deserve death!”

The shout ended. The arrow flew.

Inside his chest, Yu Chaozong let out a long, silent sigh.

*Crack.*

The arrow was knocked aside by Li Chi’s shield.

Yu Chaozong called out loudly: “Huangjia — whether or not I am Yu Chaozong, can you truly not see it? Brothers on the wall — can you truly not see it?!”

Huangjia screamed: “These men are desecrating the Chief’s spirit in death — their shamelessness cannot be tolerated! Fire! Fire — I said fire!”

The archers hesitated. For a long moment, not one of them dared to be first. Huangjia flew into a rage and drew his blade, cutting down one of the men.

After the killing, Huangjia roared: “The Chief died in battle at Jizhou — Xilizi witnessed it with his own eyes! Are you going to believe the word of that deceiver below the wall over your own ears?!”

The statement contradicted itself — he had said both Xilizi and the man below could not be trusted.

He cut down one man, then snatched a bow and fired again. Li Chi blocked the arrow.

At last the soldiers on the wall could not withstand the pressure. The arrows came sparse at first, then grew thick.

When the first men began to fire, Li Chi was already shielding Yu Chaozong and pulling back. By the time the arrows grew dense, they had retreated well out of range.

Yu Chaozong sighed: “I thought of the possibility. I shouldn’t have tried. And yet I couldn’t quite let it go.”

Li Chi said: “Elder Brother, don’t trouble yourself over it.”

He turned and looked back at the Yanshan Camp’s stronghold. The corner of his mouth curved slightly.

“Open or not — this stronghold will be taken back.”

He turned and called down to the force below: “Change into your proper armor. Let the men in the stronghold see clearly who they’re looking at.”

At Liu Ge’s order, the soldiers stripped off the outer garments covering their armor and battle dress. The men atop the wall stared down to find themselves looking at regular army troops — and their faces went pale, one after another.

Li Chi said to Yu Jiuling: “Ninth Sister — it’s your turn on stage.”

Yu Jiuling laughed, spurred his horse, and rode forward.

—