At this thought, the aide lowered his voice and said: “I have heard from those who came from the capital that His Majesty intends to name the Ninth Prince as the imperial heir. Speaking without due reverence — His Majesty’s health has not been good of late. Before long, a new ruler will likely be sharing the burden of governance. From the perspective of the sovereign, he would naturally not wish to leave a shambles on the frontier for the new ruler to inherit. We, as his subjects, must naturally take that to heart as well. However, the Iron-Masked Army grows more formidable with each engagement. Word is that the Tiefu royal court can no longer hold out against them either — which is precisely why they agreed to the marriage alliance. If the Tiefu are willing to cooperate with us, then eliminating the Iron-Masked Army is only a matter of time.”

Before the aide could even finish, Zhao Dong had already slammed his inkstone down hard against the table. “Cooperate with those Tiefu wolves and tigers? Have you not seen with your own eyes how those brigands raid villages and slaughter our Wei subjects?”

The aide had nearly been struck by the inkstone, and could only press on with his persuasion: “This is not what we ourselves would wish for! Surely the General can see — His Majesty has gone to such great lengths to arrange this marriage alliance precisely because he wishes to pacify the internal threat first, to secure the matter of the new ruler’s accession, and then address all else afterward.”

Zhao Dong knew this perfectly well. Yet his own view was the exact opposite of His Majesty’s. If the Emperor had been willing, back in those days, to accept his counsel and offer amnesty to Cao Sheng’s volunteer army, the recovery of the Twenty Prefectures would have been within reach long since — how had it come to drag on this long?

The Tiefu were by their very nature drawn to strength.

The Wei court believed it could win people over through propriety and benevolence — yet at the Tiefu royal court, such notions were utterly worthless, amounting to nothing but a display of complete weakness. Only by crushing those wolves and tigers completely into the dust, by planting a foot firmly upon their heads, could genuine peace and stability on the frontier ever be achieved.

But Zhao Dong’s advocacy for pressing the fight had always gone unheeded. Those in the court who appreciated and shared his views were exceedingly few. By now, not a single person would step forward to oppose the Emperor’s decree alongside him.

Still, however much he vented his frustrations, he had to face reality. When intelligence came reporting a sighting of the Iron-Masked Army’s movements, Zhao Dong went out to engage them all the same.

Perhaps in an effort to obstruct the peace negotiations between the Tiefu and Wei, the Iron-Masked Army had been unusually active of late, dispatching troops in a continuous stream northward beyond the Black Water.

Each time intelligence reached him recording the Iron-Masked Army’s route of march and the course of their engagements, Zhao Dong found himself studying those accounts with a certain admiring appraisal, as though reviewing a series of brilliantly executed campaigns.

In the end, the marriage alliance procession was broken up and scattered by the Iron-Masked Army.

Though the newly titled princess managed to escape unscathed — found abandoned at the city gates of Liang Zhou with her maids and attendants — the one hundred thousand taels of silver sent as dowry was plundered by the Iron-Masked Army down to the last ingot.

Upon hearing this news, Zhao Dong felt rather as one who had thrown a meat-filled bun to drive away a dog, only to have it thrown back at him — a sense of satisfaction he could not quite put into words.

At the very least, silver extracted from the Wei people had not gone toward equipping those Tiefu wolves and tigers. That much, at least, was cause for some satisfaction.

In his quiet pleasure, he could not help but feel a surge of genuine admiration for whoever stood behind the Iron-Masked Army’s battle command.

Though he did not know who currently led their operations, Zhao Dong was confident of one thing: that person was absolutely not Cao Sheng.

The Iron-Masked Army’s current approach was entirely unlike the sweeping, unrestrained fighting style of the old volunteer force. What they practiced now was achieving victory with smaller numbers, through rapid surprise strikes and attacks from unexpected angles.

Stranger still, the Iron-Masked Army seemed to have reliable channels for obtaining intelligence about the Wei army’s next moves and deployments.

And so whenever Zhao Dong undertook any significant action, the Iron-Masked Army invariably managed to avoid a direct collision with his forces, achieving victory at minimal cost every time.

In private, Zhao Dong had gone over and over in his mind every person in his encampment, yet could not identify who was leaking information.

On several occasions, staring at the map in a kind of trance, Zhao Dong had felt that the Iron-Masked Army’s style of warfare seemed strangely familiar — as though he had encountered it somewhere before — yet he could never put his finger on where.

Today was no different. He was running simulations on the sand table, trying to anticipate the Iron-Masked Army’s next line of movement, when his son Zhao Gui Bei walked in together with Han Linfeng.

Seeing his father at work on the sand table, Zhao Gui Bei refrained from interrupting and watched with keen interest for a while.

But as he watched the black pieces representing the Iron-Masked Army weave their formations across the sand table, Zhao Gui Bei found himself genuinely impressed, and blurted out a casual compliment to the brother-in-law at his side: “Brother-in-law, that Iron-Masked battle commander seems to have a genius not unlike yours! Look at this encirclement battle at Black Stone Mountain — the troop disposition has quite a few similarities to how you arrange your forces.”

There are times when a fool’s careless words strike right to the heart of a secret.

Han Linfeng had not expected this simpleton to suddenly come out with something so uncomfortably close to the truth. His brows drew together involuntarily, and his eyes first flicked briefly toward Zhao Dong.

But Zhao Dong appeared not to have heard his son’s off-hand remark, and continued to focus on rearranging the formations before him.

Han Linfeng turned to look at Zhao Gui Bei and said mildly: “What nonsense are you talking? How many times have I actually led troops?”

Zhao Gui Bei himself realized that comparing him to a bandit commander was a rather awkward way to pay a compliment, gave a sheepish laugh, and went off to pour tea for his father.

Zhao Dong took the tea and drank a couple of sips before turning to ask his son whether he had been back recently to see the princess and his new wife.

Han Yao, having married into the family, had followed Princess Yuyang to Hui City, where she could be at hand to attend to the princess’s needs. On ordinary days, Zhao Gui Bei could only spend time with his new bride when he visited his mother.

Hearing Zhao Gui Bei report on Princess Yuyang’s recent state — that she seemed to be missing the empress dowager and the Emperor back in the capital — Zhao Dong said: “His Majesty is eager to reach a settlement with the Tiefu. If the officials sent to negotiate succeed, we should be sounding the withdrawal and returning to the capital by the end of summer.”

Zhao Gui Bei had no liking for this answer, and muttered: “If civil officials are so useful, what do they need us military men for? And as for this peace settlement — if the Tiefu had any genuine desire for peace, how could they be receiving the Wei princess on one hand while scheming to raid our grain supplies on the other?”

Apparently unwilling to let the hundred thousand taels of silver slip away without recouping something, the Tiefu had seemingly decided to compensate themselves with Wei provisions.

Just two days past, a grain convoy that Han Linfeng was escorting from the Qianxi provisions camp had been ambushed by Tiefu forces along the road.

Fortunately, Han Linfeng had noticed something amiss in time, ordered the supply wagons to halt, and promptly notified Zhao Gui Bei to bring his troops as reinforcement — resulting in a beautifully executed counter-ambush.

That clean, decisive counter-offensive had left Zhao Gui Bei feeling deeply satisfied, thoroughly dispelling the gloom that had accumulated from the successive engagements against the Iron-Masked Army.

It was precisely for this reason that Zhao Gui Bei had been looking for ways today to praise his brother-in-law.

Zhao Dong indicated the latest imperial edict that had arrived and said: “Though the dispute with the Tiefu is drawing to a close, the Iron-Masked Army remains a grave threat in His Majesty’s eyes. The recent failures in battle have caused considerable dissatisfaction at court — but now the Iron-Masked Army has been pressing forward relentlessly, leaving their rear exposed. I intend to launch a reverse thrust and strike at the Iron-Masked Army’s main camp south of Black Stone Mountain.”

Hearing his father’s words, Zhao Gui Bei immediately set down his teacup and returned to the sand table. Only now did he fully understand what his father had been rearranging earlier: a plan to feign pursuit of the Iron-Masked Army’s main force while actually looping back through Black Stone Mountain to strike directly at their main camp.

Han Linfeng also looked on for a moment from the side, then raised an objection: “General, if you turn your forces about and strike in this fashion, you will be splitting your troop strength. Right now, the reason the Tiefu are huddled at Black Stone Mountain and dare not make any large-scale movements — beyond the deterrence of the Iron-Masked Army — is precisely because you have stationed a heavy force on their southwest flank, creating the pressure of a two-sided pincer threat. That is what prevents them from advancing while making them unwilling to lightly abandon Black Stone Mountain.”

Han Linfeng’s meaning was clear: the moment Zhao Dong moved, he would release the restraints holding the Tiefu in place, freeing their main force.

The peace negotiations had not yet concluded. Once the Tiefu no longer needed to hold Black Stone Mountain and could freely redirect their movements, tens of thousands of cavalry would be nearly impossible to contain again.

Zhao Gui Bei also felt his brother-in-law’s reasoning was sound and nodded repeatedly.

Yet Zhao Dong had clearly already weighed the considerations and made his decision. “You both know that His Majesty has sent one edict after another condemning me for inaction. Under such pressure, if I do not move, I am disregarding the Emperor’s trust and favor. Since the Tiefu are willing to enter the marriage alliance, they too wish to end this conflict as soon as possible. Suppressing the Iron-Masked Army is what matters most right now. The two of you may withdraw. Ensuring the safe transport of rear provisions is your responsibility. As for front-line matters, I still need to work out the detailed arrangements with my aides, and I will inform you of the supply convoy routes once they have been decided.”

Zhao Gui Bei knew he could not move his father on military matters, and could only suppress his frustration and follow Han Linfeng out of the camp.

He also understood the immense pressure his father was under. With the Emperor sending edict after edict of rebuke — what official could endure that indefinitely?

It seemed his father had no choice but to devote his full efforts to crushing the Iron-Masked Army.

Yet the location of the Iron-Masked Army’s main camp had remained elusive for so long — his father must have gone to considerable lengths to pin it down.

They say the timing of a military strike must be seized when it presents itself. And so that very day, Zhao Dong called a command assembly and began laying out his battle arrangements.

Han Linfeng watched the aides and commanders filing into the commander’s tent, then turned to Zhao Gui Bei and said: “The Shizi’s consort has not been well recently — I need to go back and look in on her. The affairs of the provisions camp will need your attention while I am away.”

Zhao Gui Bei was well accustomed to Han Linfeng making frequent trips back to Liang Zhou on one matter or another, and agreed without the slightest hesitation.

That night, the Iron-Masked Army’s main camp began breaking down and relocating to new ground.

Cao Sheng watched the camp being dismantled and said to Han Linfeng, who wore the black mask over his face: “If Zhao Dong makes up his mind to force a decisive engagement with you, this pattern of retreating at every turn is no long-term solution. Even if it truly came to a fight, the Iron-Masked Army as it stands now is not incapable of defeating Zhao Dong.”

Han Linfeng said in a measured voice: “General Zhao is no member of the rotted court faction. I hold a degree of genuine respect for him. Moreover, he has been lenient toward the Iron-Masked Army on numerous occasions — that is something I ought to honor. But given the way matters are developing, he will likely be removed by the court before long. If another man replaces him, there will be fewer of those personal debts of consideration to navigate.”

Cao Sheng nodded, though his mind was drifting to another thought: how had he ever believed that the young Qiu Zhen bore any resemblance to the Shizi?

A man of great deeds need not be bound by every scruple of propriety — yet this rare quality of principled humanity was something Qiu Zhen could not possess even across three lifetimes of reincarnation.

Since Han Linfeng was determined to draw things out and wear Zhao Dong down through attrition until the man was reassigned, Cao Sheng would of course give him his full cooperation.

Once Han Linfeng had seen to the arrangements for the main camp’s relocation, he set off with his attendants in haste for the Qianxi provisions camp.

Partway along the road, he stopped in a grove of trees, removed the mask, and changed back into his Wei military uniform.

He had barely gone any further when, out in the wild hills and open country, Zhao Dong blocked the road ahead with a mounted troop at his back, armored and blades drawn: “Shizi Han, were you not returning to Liang Zhou to look in on your wife? What brings you to this place in the dead of night?”

The moment Han Linfeng saw Zhao Dong — who by rights should have been heading for Black Stone Mountain to deploy his troops — standing here instead, everything became instantly clear to him.

It seemed the General’s words this afternoon had all been a calculated deception.

Indeed, Zhao Dong had been testing Han Linfeng. In the command assembly that day, what he had said to his officers and men had nothing to do with the actual plan.

Which meant that regarding the surprise strike on the main camp, he had spoken of it only to Zhao Gui Bei and Han Linfeng.

After the two had left the camp, Zhao Dong had immediately sent men to bring Zhao Gui Bei back and questioned him at length about Han Linfeng’s daily habits and movements.

Zhao Dong had been genuinely jolted awake by his son’s unintentional flattery earlier in the day.

How had it not occurred to him before that Han Linfeng might have been in private communication and secret coordination with the Iron-Masked Army?

And so: shake the grass, and see if a snake comes slithering out.

Zhao Dong had ordered every horse’s hooves wrapped in thick cotton padding. Then he rode to scout the area near the Iron-Masked Army’s main camp.

Sure enough, he found them in a sudden, frantic rush to break down and vacate their encampment — clearly they had caught wind of something.

Then a party of riders had abruptly moved out in the direction of Liang Zhou, and Zhao Dong had led his men to follow — only to discover that one among them was wearing the distinctive iron mask. It seemed this might well be the Iron-Masked Army’s own leader, who had been so elusive and impossible to pin down.

Before this moment, he had only suspected Han Linfeng of covert communication with the enemy.

But just now, by moonlight, from a distance, he had watched the Iron-Masked battle commander — a figure he had seen countless times on the field — ride into the grove on horseback, and the man who emerged from it was none other than — Han Linfeng, dressed in Wei military uniform.

That tall, imposing silhouette in the moonlight had been unmistakably clear — there was no room for confusion.

In that instant, it had all fallen into place for Zhao Dong with the force of a thunderclap.

How had he never noticed before that the Iron-Masked battle commander’s build and stature bore such a striking resemblance to Han Linfeng?

All this time, he had been played for a fool by a young man barely past his prime.

The fury in Zhao Dong’s chest was close to bursting through his ribs. He did not continue to follow from a distance. He spurred his horse forward, planted himself squarely in the path of that deceitful young man, and cut him off.

There is no point in speaking falsehoods between men of perception. Han Linfeng did not bother with lies or concealment, but simply exchanged a glance with Qingyang behind him, then turned to General Zhao and clasped his hands in salute: “Supreme Commander, what a formidable stratagem — I can only admire and fall short of it.”

Zhao Dong said through clenched teeth: “Shizi Han, have you nothing to say to me in explanation?”

Han Linfeng said with equanimity: “That depends on whether the man standing before me is Zhao Dong — the man of passionate conviction who carries the world in his heart and burns to defeat the enemy — or the Supreme Commander in all his rank and authority.”

Zhao Dong had not expected him to still be holding forth so forcefully at a moment like this, and his eyes opened wide: “What is the difference?”

Han Linfeng continued: “If it is the hot-blooded man Zhao Dong before me, then what I have done and why needs no explanation — he will understand it already in his heart. But if it is His Majesty’s son-in-law, a general of great prestige who prizes his wealth and honor above all, then my reasons for doing this are of no consequence and not worth discussing.”

Zhao Dong’s wide eyes slowly began to narrow. And at last he let out a long sigh directed at the sky: “To think I have always thought well of you. With this kind of talent, why have you not put it to proper use? Can it be that — you harbor intentions of rebellion?”

At this moment, one of the attendants behind Han Linfeng spoke up: “If our Shizi harbored any intent to rebel, would he have shown mercy time and again and let you lot off — you worthless, wine-drinking, rice-consuming rabble who only know how to bully those beneath you? You spoiled sons of the capital’s wealthy families know nothing of the north. What do you know of how these people live, driven from place to place with no peace? Is driving off the brigands who prey on ordinary people not a righteous cause? Or would you say that getting drunk in the capital and chasing women is the righteous path?”

This torrent of words actually left the Supreme Commander’s face flushing dark, struck entirely speechless.

Han Linfeng rebuked his subordinate and told him to speak no further, then said: “If the General wishes to come to blows with me, I will not submit tamely — I will meet you as befits the occasion. But the General ought also to consider: if the Iron-Masked Army were to disappear from the northern lands at this moment, would the Tiefu be so cooperative and well-behaved in their negotiations with Wei? What would the situation become then?”

As they had been speaking, Qingyang had already quietly slipped from his horse and made his way back via the path down the hillside slope.

They were not far from the main camp, which had not yet fully withdrawn, and the cavalry scouts circling the area would cross paths with him every so often. Qingyang should encounter them before he had gone very far, and once he did, reinforcements would not be long in coming. Han Linfeng was therefore not overly concerned about Zhao Dong’s ability to detain him.

Yet if it came to that, his identity would be exposed, and it would inevitably cause a tremendous upheaval at court.

Short of absolute necessity, Han Linfeng had no wish to let things reach that point. And so, while there was still time before reinforcements arrived, he actually wished to have a proper conversation with Zhao Dong.

But Zhao Dong was no fool either, and he had naturally noticed that one of the attendants behind Han Linfeng was missing.

He gave a cold laugh. “You have sent for reinforcements — and I did not come without preparation. Behind me, a large body of main force troops stands ready on command.”

Han Linfeng gave a nod. “All the better, then. Would the General be willing, before matters come to a question of life and death, to hear my plans for the campaign going forward?”

Zhao Dong fixed his gaze on the young man of striking bearing standing before him. Though he had been seen through, not a trace of alarm showed on that handsome face.

He was a man born with the natural bearing of a commander — and to think that all those years in the capital, he himself had noticed nothing, had taken a roc soaring for a thousand miles and mistaken it for some pampered, witless sparrow kept in a cage.

Zhao Dong stared at him for a long moment. In the end, unable to suppress his admiration for the talent before him, he decided to dismount and have an earnest conversation with this young man — to see whether he could be persuaded to step back from the precipice and cease his activities.

If he could be brought to see reason in time, then Zhao Dong was willing to show leniency and allow him and Prince Beizhen’s household to preserve their lives.

After all — if this came to the Emperor’s knowledge, every soul in Prince Beizhen’s household faced the crime of execution and having their estate confiscated. Even his son’s newly wedded young commandery princess wife would not be spared.

With that thought firmly settled in his mind, Zhao Dong abruptly swung himself from his horse, gripped the sword at his hip, and walked several paces toward Han Linfeng.

Han Linfeng also dismounted with easy composure, and even unfastened his own sword and tossed it to the attendant behind him, then came forward empty-handed and unhurried.

Beside that grove, the Black River flowed with a deep and rushing current. The two men stood facing the great river, side by side beneath the bright moon.

From that point on, Han Linfeng concealed nothing. He recounted how in his younger years he had traveled through the northern lands, how he had joined the volunteer army without his father’s knowledge, and how he had built the Iron-Masked Army — the force that had once made Tiefu troops tremble at the mere mention of its name.

Zhao Dong thought to himself that he had never heard anything so outlandish in all the storytelling sessions he had attended in the capital. This young man — what extraordinary audacity he possessed.

That the Han family, in this generation, had produced a figure of this kind — it was nothing short of astonishing.

Beyond his astonishment, what Zhao Dong felt even more was a deep regret. A man of this caliber — had he not been born into a remote branch of the imperial family, even as a man of modest scholarly origins from humble beginnings, he could have made far freer use of his gifts.

Yet he had been born as a descendant of the Holy Virtue Emperor, and now held in his hands a volunteer army whose strength could not be taken lightly. Zhao Dong knew better than anyone what the Iron-Masked Army’s current fighting capacity truly was.

Once this remote branch of the imperial bloodline harbored a change of heart, raising the banner of rebellion on the frontier would unleash a flood impossible for anyone to contain.

And so Zhao Dong said nothing. He simply listened in silence as the Shizi spoke.

After Han Linfeng gave a brief account of his history with Cao Sheng, he continued: “In those days, when the Holy Virtue Ancestor was trapped at the Hill Stronghold, the Wei Proclamation Emperor, in order to force the Holy Virtue Emperor to abdicate, proactively negotiated a settlement with the Tiefu — ceding territory, paying reparations, and securing the abdication. The throne that the current Emperor sits upon was purchased, one could say, with these Twenty Prefectures of the northern lands.”

Zhao Dong was no stranger to this piece of history. He said through clenched teeth: “And so everything you have done — is it all to seize back the throne?”

Han Linfeng smiled openly and candidly. “What is so worth contending for in that throne? If the realm were at peace, I would rather stay at home with my wife, raise our children, and live out our days in contentment. But do the people of the northern lands have good days to live right now? When a person cannot live in peace and security, they must look to themselves for their own salvation. What does the General think?”

Zhao Dong furrowed his brows. “If the Shizi also holds the conviction to resist the Tiefu, he could submit a memorial to the court—”

Even as the Supreme Commander said these words, he found he could not finish them. What would become of someone who submitted such a memorial to the court — he knew that better than anyone.

Han Linfeng also gave a rueful smile, then raised his voice: “A true man in this world must press forward with unflinching resolve. He must also know clearly what is within his power to do. Right now, a rare and singular opportunity to recover the lost homeland lies before us. The Tiefu royal court has undergone a change of rulership, and the new king’s hold on power is not yet secure. Their own voices on the question of fighting against Wei are not united. The Iron-Masked Army is now advancing with unstoppable momentum — recovering the Twenty Prefectures is no longer a dream. General — has not your own position at court always been that one does not negotiate with wolves and tigers? Why is it that here in the northern lands, you have become hesitant and restrained — no longer the General Zhao I once knew?”

Han Linfeng’s words left Zhao Dong’s brows drawn into a tight knot.

If he were to speak the truth of his heart — everything this young man had done was something he himself had rehearsed a thousand times over in his dreams. Yet now here he was, with a grave and proper expression, about to rebuke an imperial descendant for daring to raise a volunteer force and drive out invaders.

The very thought was an exercise in hypocrisy beyond measure.

And as Han Linfeng laid out the Iron-Masked Army’s plans for the coming campaign, Zhao Dong listened in ever-deepening silence.

What could be more agonizing than watching one’s lifelong convictions and ideals materialize right before one’s eyes — and yet being the one who must raise a hand to smash them?

This Shizi of Prince Beizhen’s household, who had concealed his brilliance all these years beneath an unremarkable surface, had managed to live exactly as Zhao Dong had always wished he himself could live.

At this moment, in the distance, torches flickered and the sound of hoofbeats rolled in waves. The Iron-Masked Army’s reinforcements had clearly arrived.

By all customary logic, after the exchange of words came the clash of arms. What followed now would be a contest of strength and survival.

As the thoughts shifted rapidly in Zhao Dong’s mind, his sword hand moved faster than his head could decide — the blade at his hip sprang up and came to rest against Han Linfeng’s throat.

Han Linfeng did not flinch or step aside. He simply accepted it with composure. Yet in the end, he said with unhurried weight: “The eyes of the world are easily bounded by convention’s limits. But a hundred years from now, when someone passes judgment on the turbulent history of Wei’s northern lands — does the General believe he will be praised as a loyal and devoted minister who loved his country? Or remembered as a man who abandoned the people and the frontier territories for a thousand years to come?”

Why wait a hundred years for that judgment? Right now, before the gates of the Wei military encampment, dung and stones were piling up in heaps, hurled there by the people themselves.

Simply standing by and watching villages burn without going to the aid of the people — that was already enough to leave an infamy lasting ten thousand generations.

Zhao Dong was no man of letters — from childhood, he had been raised on the storytellers’ tales of heroes and villains.

Having heard Han Linfeng out, all the fury and resentment that had been piling up from the Emperor’s relentless edicts of rebuke these past few days surged up together in a single wave.

He could, at this very moment, cut off the head of the Iron-Masked Army’s true commander and bring it back to settle accounts.

But — was that truly what he wanted? Just as Han Linfeng had said: in the years to come, whenever he recalled this night, would he not be filled with regret — that because of his own blind obstinacy, the homeland’s lost territories had been left unrecoverable for all time?