South of Yuzhou. The riverbank.

The Mandate Army had begun constructing crossing bridges. Seven bridges advancing side by side — from this alone, one could see the iron resolve of the commander leading these forces.

Xiahou Zuo remained the commanding general for the Ning Army in this battle, with Dantai Yajing serving as his deputy. Li Chi, as before, stood watching from a distance.

Dantai Yajing glanced back at Li Chi on the high slope, then turned with a grin to ask Xiahou Zuo: “I’ve always been curious — how did you actually get him to stand back and watch from a distance?”

Xiahou Zuo said: “Fines. Every time he dares to step forward, I fine him.”

Dantai Yajing blinked, then couldn’t help but exclaim admiringly: “How did that never occur to me? There’s probably not another trick in existence that would work.”

Xiahou Zuo said: “Actually, there is.”

Dantai Yajing said: “Please, enlighten me.”

Xiahou Zuo smiled and said: “If you want to get him to behave, first option is money — most effective. Second is to call Gao Xining over — also works. Third is to summon those three elders. And if that still doesn’t work, you goad those three old men into beating him.”

Dantai Yajing let out a long sigh: “I should have come to you for advice long ago.”

Xiahou Zuo said: “There are still plenty of days ahead — and plenty more opportunities to deal with him.”

Dantai Yajing said admiringly: “Now that you’re back, we have our backbone again.”

If Li Chi had heard those last few exchanges, there was no telling how much he would dock from Yu Jiuling’s salary.

Yes — it was all Yu Jiuling’s fault.

If not for Yu Jiuling, how would there be so many rebels beneath Prince Ning…

Li Chi stood on the high ground, peering through a monocular at the enemy movements across the river. He watched the seven bridges advancing abreast — and his expression did not change in the slightest.

The enemy’s troop numbers showed no sign of increase, while the Ning Army’s side had received reinforcements of tens of thousands. They had not flinched even when outnumbered ten to one — indeed, they had been the ones pressing the enemy then. With over forty thousand battle-hardened soldiers now at his disposal, why should this battle give him any cause for concern?

Yu Jiuling, however, was nervous. He had, after all, rarely been part of a battle of this scale. Most of the time, he operated on a different kind of battlefield — contending with his adversaries there.

No — on two different kinds of battlefield, in fact.

Taxing work, all of it.

“Boss.”

Yu Jiuling asked with some unease: “The enemy looks to be coming on pretty fiercely. They really do outnumber us by quite a bit over there.”

Li Chi said: “Did you bring money?”

Yu Jiuling’s heart gave a little lurch. Li Chi was asking if he’d brought money — that could only mean nothing good was coming!

Li Chi smiled: “I won’t take advantage of you this time, I promise. A fair bet between us: we wager on who crosses the river and reaches the other bank first — Dantai or Xiahou.”

Yu Jiuling thought it through carefully. If one were to measure a person by all-around ability, Xiahou Zuo had few equals — whether in martial prowess or strategic thinking, he was outstanding. But when it came to being the first to storm across, raw combat strength tended to be the deciding factor, and in that regard, Dantai held a slight edge.

After countless calculations, countless comparisons, and countless rounds of internal argument, Yu Jiuling arrived at his conclusion with full conviction: it would be Dantai who crossed first.

He looked Li Chi squarely in the eye and said with firm resolution: “I’m not betting.”

Li Chi: “??????????”

Yu Jiuling: “Nope, not betting. You can say whatever you like, Boss, I’m still not betting. I’m being smart now. I keep a tight grip on my own money, and as long as I don’t get greedy, my money won’t end up in your hands.”

Li Chi gave him a look: “You’ve stopped being fun.”

Yu Jiuling said: “After the way all of you have played me, you’re going to say I’ve stopped being fun?”

Li Chi laughed out loud.

Across the river, the Mandate Army’s pace in building the crossing bridges was not slow at all — and it was only getting faster. The more practiced they became, the more staggering their speed grew.

Seven bridges advancing side by side across that great river was, it had to be said, a genuinely impressive sight.

The Ning Army’s tactics would not change significantly. Once the bridges extended past the midpoint of the river, they would be entering the range of the trebuchets.

At the signal of a horn blast from Xiahou Zuo’s position, the rear formation’s dozens of trebuchets were set into motion.

Enormous boulders launched into the air and plummeted down toward the river below.

In an instant, water columns erupted all across the river — and the spectacle only grew more striking.

The second volley was considerably more accurate than the first. After adjustments were made, significantly more stones found their marks on the bridges.

Yet just as Li Chi had predicted, the degree of damage this barrage inflicted on the bridges was nowhere near what had been achieved in the previous engagement.

The new bridges were approximately twice as wide as before. There was now a far greater probability of stones passing between the beams and plunging harmlessly into the water.

And even when a stone did strike one of the crossbeams, the damage to the bridge structure was almost negligible — because the Mandate Army had not laid down any planking at all. They had been continuously adding beams the entire time, intending to have their troops bring the planks up only once the bridge was nearing the far bank.

On the bank, Mandate Army soldiers stood in formation, each pair carrying a plank between them, waiting for the order to advance. Even if those planks might not be needed that day, every preparation had been made.

The construction was moving quickly — though it was not, of course, as simple as just dropping a few logs and calling it done.

On the first day, not long after the bridges had passed the river’s midpoint, a horn blast rang out from the Mandate Army’s side and they ceased their forward progress.

When night fell, the Mandate Army’s support troops took advantage of the clear moonlight and got back to work, hammering and clanging away as the construction resumed.

The commander directing the Mandate Army’s forces this time was clearly far more deliberate and thoughtful than those who had come before.

If the Ning Army kept the trebuchets firing through the night, by morning they could expect to lose seven or eight out of every ten trebuchets.

But if they did not, the Mandate Army could push the bridges to within striking distance of the northern bank in a single night.

Xiahou Zuo did not sleep. All through the night he watched the Mandate Army’s support troops building.

After a while, the trebuchets fell silent. There was little point in continuing — the damage inflicted was minimal while the cost to their own equipment was heavy. Better to save the machines for daylight, when their aim could be adjusted to target the approach to the bank itself.

That was where the killing would be most savage.

When morning came, the sun climbed slowly from the east, shifting from red to gold as it rose.

The Mandate Army’s bridges were now only ten-odd zhang from the northern bank — and in those final ten-odd zhang, their casualties had been beyond counting.

Ten-odd zhang was already well within the reach of the Ning Army’s arrowfire.

More importantly, the Ning Army was not short of arrows.

The support troops still pushing the bridges forward were being shot into the river one by one. Replacements stepped up one by one. They could only shout — howling and roaring — as a way of rallying themselves and perhaps offering themselves some superstitious protection against the Ning Army’s arrows.

In war, the gods spare no one. What good is shouting?

At this distance, every foot the bridges advanced cost a considerable number of lives.

After paying an incalculable toll, the bridges had been reduced to less than ten zhang from the bank.

At this point, the commander of the Mandate Army, Xie Di, could restrain himself no longer. At ten-odd zhang, the water was no longer deep — soldiers could wade across.

Push the assault forward while simultaneously continuing to advance the bridges — otherwise the losses would be absolutely catastrophic.

The war drums sounded. Mandate Army soldiers began pouring onto the bridges.

Great numbers of troops came carrying planks, laying them down as they slowly advanced. This approach was visibly slower than pre-laying the planks — yet in practice, it was far more effective.

By the time the planking had been laid past the river’s midpoint, the Ning Army’s trebuchets hurled their boulders onto the bridges once again.

The soldiers packed shoulder to shoulder on the bridge had nowhere to dodge. Some leaped in panic into the water; others were struck and killed where they stood.

The planks that were smashed would only leave a gap, and Mandate Army soldiers could swap in new ones almost immediately.

In this fashion, the Mandate Army pressed toward the northern bank. This approach meant there would be no repeat of the situation where the lead troops had already made it to the far bank while the men behind remained bottled up in the middle of the river, unable to follow.

That was precisely how Pei Fanglun had suffered his defeat. He had managed to get his forces onto the northern bank — but with barely more than ten thousand men, then pinned down by the Ning Army’s arrow barrage. When Xiahou Zuo had driven them back, his forces were actually outnumbered by the Ning Army.

With improved bridges and improved construction methods, the Mandate Army had addressed their single greatest weakness: getting reinforcements across in time.

One hundred zhang, eighty zhang, fifty zhang… the Mandate Army soldiers on the bridges drew closer and closer to the northern bank.

Then — the soldiers raised their planks above their heads.

They had brought far more planks than the bridge itself required. The reason: the surplus planks were to serve as shields.

The Ning Army’s arrows came down in an overwhelming wave. Mandate Army soldiers fitted their planks together and held them over their heads.

In an instant, above the heads of every Mandate Army soldier within arrow range, it was as if a layer of white reeds had suddenly sprouted from the bridge — a dense, unbroken mass, white and thick.

A thundering roar — and the bolt-throwers fired.

Heavy crossbow bolts as thick as a man’s calf shot point-blank into the packed mass of men on the bridge. Each one tore through, leaving a clear line behind it — a lane measured in bodies. How many men died, that was how far the bolt traveled.

The closer they drew to the bank, the louder the Mandate Army’s battle cries grew. Every man had long since screamed himself hoarse.

Perhaps they too knew that the roaring could not frighten the Ning Army — but at the very least, it kept some of their own fear at bay.

In that final stretch approaching the northern bank, the number of Mandate Army soldiers dying was enough to make one’s scalp crawl.

Thirty zhang, twenty zhang, ten zhang…

At the end of the bridge, soldiers leaped into the water clutching planks. Some lay across the planks and paddled forward; others pushed through the shallows, struggling ahead.

As Xiahou Zuo gave continuous orders, the angle of the Ning Army’s arrowfire adjusted constantly.

At ten zhang, the arrows were flying flat, skimming the water’s surface. Mandate Army soldiers fighting their way through the shallows were being hit one after another.

Before long, the bodies floating on the surface of the river were so dense they nearly blotted out the water itself.

One Mandate Army soldier swam over holding a fallen comrade’s body above him, using the corpse as a shield. The only sounds he could hear were the arrows striking into flesh — inches from his ear, so close it made his skin crawl.

And finally — a great flood of Mandate Army soldiers came surging up onto the northern bank. They screamed in wild rage, charging toward the Ning Army, unleashing every ounce of fury and terror they had been carrying.

At this moment, with the Ning Army’s arrowfire concentrated on the soldiers coming ashore, those still building the bridges resumed their push forward.

Hand-to-hand combat. At close quarters.

At this very instant, every soldier in the Ning Army heard a crack of war drums — like a thunderbolt splitting the sky.

They turned and looked toward the high slope. Before the great cowhide war drum, Prince Ning had stripped off his outer robe, flung his sleeves back, and tossed the garment behind him — baring a torso that seemed forged from copper and cast from iron.

Prince Ning gripped a drumstick in each hand, driving them into the cowhide face of the war drum again and again. With every pull of those muscles, the drum surface shuddered.

*Boom.*

*Boom-boom.*

*Boom.*

*Boom-boom.*

—