In the very instant the change quietly appeared, in the Jin army’s main formation across the field, Wanyan Zongwang and his uncle Wanyan Shemu were just then speaking of Guo Yaoshi, both of them somewhat surprised that the Wu dynasty had managed to recruit so formidable a general and adversary.

“Earlier, over the Zhang Jue affair, when our army stood before the walls of Yanjing, I heard this Guo Yaoshi was the one who argued for holding the city,” Wanyan Shemu said, tilting his head atop his warhorse. “A pity it came to nothing in the end. Had we clashed with him then, at least we would have some measure of him now.”

“No matter, Uncle — what I’ve always hoped for is to cross blades with the great heroes of this world. This time, he might just give me a real surprise…” Wanyan Zongwang, speaking with heroic bravado, suddenly frowned. In the darkness, his gaze fixed on one flank of the battle line, and he raised his riding crop. “What’s that… what are they up to now?”

Wanyan Shemu narrowed his eyes and studied it for a moment as well. “Falling back? Or regrouping for another assault?”

“Send word to the commanders advancing on the northeast flank — slow their pace, concentrate toward Majibao’s cavalry unit. No reckless advances, be on guard against a trick! Quickly!”

At Zongwang’s order, riders sped off, and signal rockets shot up into the night sky, the whole Jin main formation stirring into even more tense, urgent activity.

On the other side, Guo Yaoshi, watching the state of that flank, suddenly rode forward several paces before instinct, then reined in. “What’s happening! Why are they falling back!”

“That’s General Zhang’s and General Liu’s forces…”

“I know it’s them — they’ve been harrying the flank the whole time, only feint attacks, nothing serious. Why would they retreat now! Send my order — tell them to advance—”

This sudden, bizarre development caught Guo Yaoshi completely off guard; he simply could not fathom why the two sworn brothers Zhang Linghui and Liu Shunren would do such a thing. The battlefield was vast, and it was night — by the time the change became clear, the two forces on the northeast flank had already fallen back, pulling out of a wide, low valley entirely. The Jurchen too seemed startled by this, their own forces gathering just ahead of the retreating army, holding in tense, uncertain silence. The whole process took perhaps half the time it takes an incense stick to burn — countless orders and impulses of will surged across the chaos above the battlefield.

The Jurchen sounded their horns.

Then, their cavalry charged straight down at the retreating army!

Like a tidal wave, a rout began to spread along one side of the battlefield. Guo Yaoshi’s own cavalry cut in from the flank, trying to hold back the Jurchen assault, but the collapse had already taken hold. The main body of the Changsheng Army charged forward toward that side, issuing orders at the same time, trying to put distance between itself and the two routed forces of Zhang Linghui and Liu Shunren, trying to reorganize a tight defense — but it was already too late. The routed troops and his own directly commanded forces had already become hopelessly entangled with one another, and what had begun as a single collapsing cliff face gradually became the crumbling of half a mountain.

Countless corpses drifted down the Chaobai River, firelight streaming across the night sky, and all that remained was the ceaseless work of regrouping, and the ceaseless killing. Across the field, the Jin forces, having already fought a full day, surged back into a raging assault once more, bearing down on the still-unbroken half of the Changsheng Army. Guo Yaoshi could only instinctively rein in what chaos remained of his formation and lead his troops in retreat toward Yanjing city. Years had passed since the last time he had been crushed and routed by Xiao Gan beneath the walls of Yanjing — and now that scene seemed to be repeating itself before his eyes. Only this time, the ones who had betrayed him first were the very brothers-in-arms at his own side…

Deep in the night, countless routed soldiers poured through the great gates of Yanjing. Prefect Cai Jing — the local prefect, not the Grand Preceptor — stood atop the city gate watching this scene, his whole body turning cold. As the forces directly under Guo Yaoshi’s own command poured in through the gate behind them, the Jurchen came surging forward like a tide, rushing toward the city.

Once the gate had been closed, Cai Jing ran down and found Guo Yaoshi amid the chaos of the ranks. He was wrapped in his great cloak, a steel blade in hand, half his body covered in blood, his eyes bloodshot, like a fierce tiger ready to devour whoever crossed his path. Cai Jing dared not press him with questions, only saying, “It’s good that the general has returned, good that the general has returned — as long as the general is here, we can hold Yanjing…”

Guo Yaoshi had already dismounted. He turned and looked at him. “You won’t ask me why we lost?”

“Whatever the reason for the defeat, so long as we learn from it…”

“But I very much want to know why I lost!” Guo Yaoshi roared. “Come with me! Let’s go find out!”

He turned abruptly and, leading his personal guard and officers, marched toward the inner city. The rest of the troops had already begun taking up positions on the walls on their own initiative, and the Jurchen assault outside had come to a halt for the moment. Cai Jing followed after Guo Yaoshi, his heart pounding with unease. Before long, they reached a training ground and camp on one side of the inner city — the encampment of Zhang Linghui and the others. The guards there were plainly on high alert; several came forward trying to bar their way, but Guo Yaoshi paid them no mind whatsoever, and the men at his side rushed forward and subdued them at once. In moments, his column had surged into the camp like a flood.

In the middle of the training ground at the camp’s center, the two commanders, Zhang Linghui and Liu Shunren, were plainly waiting for his arrival. The two sides’ soldiers faced off against one another, and Guo Yaoshi walked straight toward the two men. Zhang Linghui had barely opened his mouth to greet him when Guo Yaoshi’s fist came smashing into his face. Liu Shunren rushed forward at once, trying to pull them apart, only to take a fist to the gut from Guo Yaoshi, followed by another blow crashing down from behind, sending him sprawling to the ground. Zhang Linghui, staggering back several steps from the blow, looked up and began to speak again, but Guo Yaoshi strode up to him and kicked him, sending him flying.

All around, tension crackled in the air like drawn steel, and yet, under Guo Yaoshi’s overwhelming presence, no one dared make a move.

“You fled the battlefield. You sold out your brothers-in-arms.” Guo Yaoshi walked back toward his own men and drew a steel blade from an attendant’s waist. “I mean to kill you both today. Do you have anything to say?”

Only now did Cai Jing begin to grasp what had happened.

Zhang Linghui, though, climbed up off the ground. “I have something to say.” Then he pointed at Cai Jing. “But with him standing here, how can I speak freely?”

Guo Yaoshi jabbed a finger at Cai Jing and roared, “Say it right in front of him!”

Zhang Linghui gritted his teeth. “Fine. You’re my elder brother — if you want me to speak, I’ll speak. The Wu people aren’t worth it! They’re rotten mud that can never hold up a wall! We can’t hold this city!”

“Who says I can’t hold it!” Guo Yaoshi bellowed. “I was about to defeat Wanyan Zongwang today!”

“Brother, you could only have dealt him a minor setback! To the west they still have Wanyan Chang’s great army, and behind them there’s more still! And what do you have, brother? Only the Changsheng Army! How much can you possibly hold against them! The Wu people can’t be trusted — brother, have you forgotten our great defeat here before? Have you forgotten how Zhang Jue died? All they know is grabbing power and hoarding wealth — there isn’t a real man among the Wu!”

Guo Yaoshi looked at him and shook his head. “But this time… it was you who caused my great defeat…”

Zhang Linghui said, “But brother, what if you had won? What if you’d beaten them too badly? What if you’d actually killed Wanyan Zongwang? Brother, we only have so many men under our command — our brothers don’t want to make an enemy of the Jurchen…”

“Are they your brothers, or is it just that you alone are the coward!?” Guo Yaoshi swept a hand out toward the dense rows of soldiers surrounding them.

Liu Shunren came forward from the side. “Brother, this was my idea too…”

“Then I have two cowards among my brothers.” Guo Yaoshi drew a breath. “You were so eager to retreat, so afraid of losing your chance to surrender, so eager to make yourselves someone else’s slaves. You say there isn’t a real man among the Wu — but how can either of you claim to be real men yourselves? You weren’t like this in the past… I don’t much care for the Wu either, don’t care for what happened to Zhang Jue — but how could I ever be like you two…”

Guo Yaoshi’s voice gradually dropped lower. Cai Jing, listening beside them, felt his heart pounding with dread. After a long while, he saw Guo Yaoshi’s shoulders begin to shake: “Hahahaha… hahahaha…” he laughed, and when he lifted his head, his tall frame seemed to have collapsed inward somehow, his eyes and his laughter both filled with a bitter, tragic grief.

Cai Jing stepped forward. “Generals, so long as we work together with one heart, Yanjing can still be held. As long as we hold Yanjing, reinforcements are sure to come from the south…” He did not finish — he stopped, because Guo Yaoshi had turned his head and fixed his gaze on him.

He looked at Cai Jing for a long moment, then sighed softly. “Lord Cai, do you know — you people of Wu are like a plague…” The moment he finished speaking, his body suddenly exploded into motion. Zhang Linghui, seeing him sigh, had thought the situation might be turning, and had drawn closer — Guo Yaoshi’s foot now slammed into his chest once more, sending him flying backward, sliding a long distance across the ground on his knees, blood spraying from his mouth.

“Do you know how many brothers you’ve made me lose for nothing—”

Guo Yaoshi’s voice rang out through the entire camp. Watching Zhang Linghui go flying, Liu Shunren stepped back two paces, while Guo Yaoshi simply swung his blade, cutting a large strip of cloth from his own robe, and hurled it up into the sky.

“I will surrender. But from this day forward, our bond is severed — we are brothers no longer.”

Countless soldiers all around watched this unfold.

Cai Jing rushed forward. “General Guo, you cannot do this…”

Guo Yaoshi reached out and seized his shoulder, turning his head. “What else is there to do now? Lord Cai — surrender.”

“No, General Guo — you once said, if we simply hold the city…”

Before he could finish, Guo Yaoshi’s fist crashed into his face, sending him flying to land at the feet of the gathered officers and attendants.

“I gave you so much money — all you had to do was nod your head…”

He muttered this under his breath, touched his own mouth, and finally looked once more at Zhang Linghui and Liu Shunren in the camp, then at the many soldiers and officers before him, before turning and walking outward. The wind moaned. Beneath the night sky, the great city — one that the Wu had spent two years and untold sums of silver building up — now stood tall and solid, like some crouching, dormant beast. To the east of the city, the Jurchen had begun to make camp; by tomorrow, they would begin constructing siege engines, bracing themselves mentally for a long, grinding assault.

One man’s ambition, in a night like this, had streaked across the vast sky, and quietly gone out.

…

In the capital, the Chancellor’s residence was a scene of chaos and clamor. In the study, all the materials Ning Yi had brought, along with a great many documents drawn from the Ministry of Revenue, had all been gathered together and sorted. Yao Zunian, Ji Kun, Wenren Buer and the others were all hard at work here on various tasks.

“The edict making Guo Yaoshi Prince of Yan is probably about to be issued…” Ning Yi said, looking over a document in his hand, sipping tea and speaking rather idly.

“His Majesty is frightened.” Yao Zunian set a file down on a nearby shelf and said in a low voice, “The moment word came that the Jurchen were marching south, everyone knew things looked bad — but to grant a princedom at a time like this… it’s the act of a desperate man grasping at any cure.”

Ji Kun said, “Looked at another way, His Majesty seems remarkably clear-eyed about the true state of the whole situation.”

“Yes, clearer than we are, it seems…” Ning Yi frowned.

As they spoke, Qin Siyuan came in through the door. He glanced at the pile of things on Ning Yi’s desk. “Is this what Liheng mentioned before?”

Ning Yi glanced at it and nodded. “Yes — topographical and household registration data from the Ministry of Revenue, along with all of Bamboo House’s surveys of the north — every stretch of forested, mountainous terrain unfavorable to cavalry movement, and preliminary plans for relocating the surrounding villages and countryside… though, from how things look now, it’s probably useless.”

At the very outset of word that the Jurchen were invading south, the Chancellor’s residence had already run through a great many projections and simulations, among them one of the most extreme. Given the balance of power between the Jurchen and the Liao, and between the Liao and the Wu military, if the Jurchen unleashed their cavalry advantage to the fullest and pressed south with abandon — once they broke through Yanjing and Yanmen Pass, if they chose not to take the major fortified cities but instead simply pillaged the open countryside, the Wu army would be powerless to stop their advance. In the end, the only place where a decisive, final battle could possibly be fought would be the city of Bian Liang itself.

Such a conclusion could only be spoken of internally — no one dared bring it before the Golden Hall. Because the moment the enemy had barely begun marching south, for their own side to say, “Let’s abandon the whole of the land north of the Yellow River, it may be entirely worthless” — that could never be said openly, anywhere. And yet, if one asked honestly how much resistance the several hundred thousand troops north of the Yellow River could really offer against the Jurchen, in everyone’s heart… there seemed to be no confidence in it at all.

This went beyond reason and tactics both. But in reality, the Jurchen’s repeated victories over the Liao seemed, again and again, to bear out this very sense of the “unreal.”

Working from the premise that “the land north of the Yellow River holds little strategic value” and “the Jin’s sole strategic objective is Bian Liang,” Ning Yi had had Bamboo House do a great deal of work — chiefly, surveying the terrain of the populated regions north of the Yellow River, cataloguing every location unfavorable to cavalry warfare, in order to accommodate the need to relocate the people and their grain stores and execute a scorched-earth policy. He had even, drawing on a great deal of Ministry of Revenue data, drafted a plan for a mass relocation — a scorched-earth strategy across a range of over a thousand li, meant to choke off the enemy’s supply lines. But of course, none of this mattered now, because no one was going to play along with him on this. Because no one else believed there might one day be a disaster like the “Humiliation of Jingkang.”

Of course, his plan remained, for now, only a preliminary concept, still far from fully developed. A few days earlier, everyone had gathered to discuss it, and being intelligent people all, they could only treat it as a piece of pure speculative brainstorming: the enemy’s real strength lay in the fact that a pure cavalry assault might not even need to consider logistics at all. And the problem on their own side was that carrying out a scorched-earth policy in a region that had been settled and cultivated for over two hundred years — setting aside the question of whether it was even feasible — the losses it would cause alone might exceed the cost of simply losing the war outright.

“It may be useful now.” Qin Siyuan, walking into the room, sighed, and handed out some newly arrived intelligence reports for everyone to read. Everyone fell silent afterward. Wenren Buer said, “So His Majesty, now—” and then, catching himself, fell warily silent. Ning Yi finished reading the reports and sat back down in his chair. Even having braced himself beforehand, he could not help but feel his stomach churn. “You must be joking…”

The intelligence could be roughly summarized into three points.

Guo Yaoshi, after resisting Wanyan Zongwang for several watches, had suffered a crushing defeat, and had afterward surrendered to Jin. The city of Yanjing — which the Wu had spent enormous sums to buy back, which they had spent over two years painstakingly building up on the resources of the entire Yan-Yun region — had changed hands overnight. There was now no obstacle left standing in Wanyan Zongwang’s path south. By this point, the Jin’s eastern army was likely already marching on the three garrison towns of Hebei.

On the western route, meanwhile, several tens of thousands of troops beneath Yanmen Pass had been scattered by the great army led by Wanyan Zonghan and Wanyan Xiyin. They had spent little time even breaching the pass itself — beneath Yanmen Pass there had been not only the Wusheng Army stationed to guard it, but also the Righteous Victory Army, made up over the past two years of absorbed Liao remnants. Facing the very Jurchen who had once destroyed their entire nation, these men of the Righteous Victory Army had shown neither hatred nor any will to fight — they had turned coat en masse, opening the gates and surrendering the city outright. After that, the road from Yanmen Pass to Taiyuan, and from Taiyuan to Bian Liang, lay almost entirely open and level.

Mighty passes, sturdy fortress cities — as the old sayings from ancient times went, in the end, none of them was ever truly broken from the outside. And the court’s grand strategy of absorbing the remnants of the fallen Liao state, meant to guard against exactly this Jin advance southward, had now come to almost total, complete failure.

And the third point: Tong Guan had left Taiyuan and was already en route back to the capital, having missed, by a hair, the imperial edict sent north appointing him full Commissioner of the Bureau of Military Affairs with total authority over the northern defense.

Though he understood well enough that the Jurchen of this era seemed almost supernaturally powerful, even Ning Yi had never imagined things would truly move this fast — in barely ten days’ time, the entire northern defensive line along Yanmen Pass had collapsed, and the Jurchen were now pouring south like a flood, unchecked.

“Going forward, south of Yanmen Pass is, after all, still our own territory, with several hundred thousand troops stationed across it. However fast they move, their pace can’t outstrip the speed of their previous advance — we still have time. Liheng, organize the materials you have on hand as best you can. When the time comes, we’ll coordinate with efforts to intercept them in the north and slow down their supply lines. As soon as His Majesty gives his approval, every official of the Ministry of Revenue in the north will be placed under your direction, and your Bamboo House people can join in as well — moving people into the mountains, taking away the grain, concentrating decoys, coordinating with the nearby northern armies in the field.”

Ning Yi’s expression was complicated. Beside him, Yao Zunian spoke up. “My lord Chancellor, executing a scorched-earth policy right now carries too great a risk.” Everyone present, in their hearts, could largely understand the concern — even knowing full well how formidable the Jurchen were, even with the entire first line of northern defense already collapsed, with several hundred thousand troops still held in reserve behind it, to propose emptying out the entire north only ten days into the war, stripping the people of their homes — the political risk of that alone was more than anyone could bear. What if some force genuinely did manage to hold the Jurchen at the Taiyuan line and defeat them there? With several hundred thousand men still in reserve, there was no reason to simply assume defeat.

“There’s no other way.” Qin Siyuan shook his head. “Fortunately, His Majesty himself… has a clear enough sense of things in his own heart. I won’t raise this at court for now — I’ll go into the palace shortly and speak to His Majesty privately about it. It will be approved.”

Ning Yi nodded. “Have the relocation proceed from north to south as much as possible.”

Ji Kun spoke up as well. “Let’s widen the scope of the whole thing. Prince Guangyang returning to the capital could actually work in our favor. He doesn’t want to stay in Taiyuan — well, let’s find him a reason. The core of this war will inevitably fall on the capital, so the Prince has returned early to hold command here in preparation. It sounds a bit alarmist right now, but he’ll likely take the bait. Let’s push him right out onto the cutting edge of things.”

Wenren Buer laughed. On the other side, Ning Yi began gathering his things. “If it’s approved, I’m planning to head north.”

Yao Zunian frowned. “Wouldn’t it be enough for Liheng to hold command from the capital?”

“The fastest possible flow of intelligence gives us the highest efficiency. Either way, once I’ve handed this off, I won’t have the bandwidth to deal with anything else, so I might as well go somewhere close to the front to see for myself. Don’t worry — the moment there’s real danger, I’ll run for it immediately.”

“Then I’ll go north with you,” Wenren Buer said, smiling. “You’ll be running away immediately anyway, after all.”

Qin Siyuan looked around at everyone and smiled as well. “I’ll head into the palace. We’ll have this settled within the next two days.”

The old man turned and left the room. Ning Yi smiled too. “I’ll go home first and settle things there.” He took his leave of the others.

The fighting had only just begun, and the Right Chancellor’s residence, charged as it was with logistics, still faced a great many fragmented, complicated tasks — but by now, the sense of urgency had finally come crashing down in full, and everyone had to start moving. And it was in these first ten-odd days of the war that residents across many parts of the region north of the Yellow River had already begun, under the shadow of the coming war, gathering up their families and leaving their homes behind — and this was merely the first wave, among the best-informed, of what would become a vast, sprawling migration, as countless troops raced with all speed toward the front lines and the mountain passes.

War was the business of soldiers; ordinary people could only step out of the way, or bear it in silence. And it was in this very atmosphere that a small number of people of quite extraordinary background — some in twos and threes, some traveling entirely alone, carrying blades or spears of every different kind, dressed in fine clothes or in rags, on horseback, by boat, or by cart — began moving against the current, toward the front line of a battle that promised nothing but death…