Pathway to Japanese Literature

Bone-Scraping

I Though neither ally nor foe seemed to have noticed yet, just as Fancheng’s complete occupation—deemed until now to be only a matter of time—now teetered on the brink of fruition, a subtle transformation had begun within Guan Yu’s forces. Having shattered the seven armies sent as emergency reinforcements from Wei’s heartland while simultaneously advancing to Fancheng’s very walls and completely controlling its final days, yet at this critical juncture when victory seemed but a single push away, even Guan Yu’s troops—renowned for their bamboo-cleaving momentum—appeared to falter in their opening thrust.

The only ones who knew this reason were Guan Ping and a mere handful of staff officers. Even now, generals such as Guan Ping and Wang Fu were knitting their brows, “...Whatever the case, this matter concerns the entire army’s fate—we cannot afford to neglect it.” “Even if we must endure temporary resentment, I believe it would be better to withdraw the army to Jingzhou once, ensure complete preparedness, and begin anew—but” “...This is quite a predicament.”

They exchanged grave whispers.

At that moment, a staff officer came running hurriedly from the inner quarters of the camp and announced: “This is General Yu’s command—commence the general attack at dawn tomorrow! By any means necessary, we shall occupy Fancheng within this day! He will personally take the field! Convey His Excellency’s decree to every encampment—show no negligence!”

he relayed. "What?! He's launching a general attack and taking to the battlefield?!"

The generals stared at each other in shock, and as if wordlessly acknowledging the gravity of the situation, they all headed toward a secluded room deep within the camp.

“How are you feeling today?” they timidly peered into the tent.

Guan Yu was sitting in his seat. High cheekbones stood prominent beneath pallid skin, shadows of fatigue pooling darkly in the hollows of his eyes—yet his voice retained its customary timbre,

“Oh, it’s nothing serious. You’ve all gathered here—what is this about?” “We have just received your command, but given that all of us were already deeply concerned about your ailing health, this sudden order has left us stunned. We have come to humbly advise that you allow yourself further recuperation before taking action.”

“Hahaha! Are you worried about my arrow wound?—Do not trouble yourselves. How could Guan Yu yield to such a trifling injury? And how could the affairs of the realm be abandoned? Tomorrow I shall drive my horse to the vanguard and crush Fancheng in one stroke—I will not rest until it is done!” Wang Fu edged forward on his knees. “Your vigor heartens us all, General, but no hero—however mighty—can conquer illness. Observing your condition these past days—your waning appetite, your pallid complexion, the groans that escape you in slumber—I fear you endure great suffering. As your person is irreplaceable to Shu and for the sake of future stratagems, I humbly implore you to withdraw to Jingzhou and seek full recuperation. Should any harm now befall Your Excellency, it would spell calamity not merely for Jingzhou’s forces but for all Shu.”

“……”

Guan Yu, who had been listening in silence, slowly shifted his posture and cut off Wang Fu’s words. “Wang Fu… Wang Fu. Guan Ping and the others need not waste time nor trouble their minds with needless concerns. My life has already been dedicated to Shu. A warrior’s fate is always known by Heaven alone. Should word spread that we retreated to Jingzhou after failing to capture even a single Fancheng, then—regardless of Guan Yu’s martial renown—it would tarnish Shu’s national prestige. What is a mere arrow wound? If one takes the field of battle, does one not expect to be struck by ten or a hundred arrows? Silently obey my command.”

The people withdrew without a word, but their anxiety only deepened. That night, Guan Yu again developed a severe fever and suffered in agony throughout the night. It was the wound on his left arm inflicted by Pang De’s arrow. It was as though the arrowhead contained the dying resolve of Pang De himself. The general attack, too, naturally came to a halt.

Wang Fu and Guan Ping dispatched men to various places, They had people search far and wide, asking, "Is there no skilled doctor?"

Then, a wandering physician arrived here, bringing with him a single young attendant, having drifted ashore in a small boat from the land of Wu. He was a physician from Qiao County in Pei State named Hua Tuo.

II

A commander from the riverbank surveillance unit brought Hua Tuo and arrived at Guan Ping’s quarters. “This wandering physician states he has come from the land of Wu. Given that you have been seeking physicians throughout the provinces of late, I thought he might prove useful and thus brought him here.” Guan Ping rejoiced and welcomed him into his own tent regardless, then respectfully inquired first. “May I ask your esteemed name, Doctor?” “Hua Tuo, styled Yuanhua.”

“Ah! Then you must be the renowned physician who healed General Zhou Tai of Wu—I have heard of your skill.” “Having long admired the righteous hero of the realm who now suffers from a poisoned arrow, I have come from afar by boat.” “My father is a Great General of Shu. Doctor—as a physician from Wu, what reason brings you here?” “Medicine knows no borders. This humble one serves only benevolence.” “Oh! Then please examine Father’s poisoned wound at once.” Accompanying Hua Tuo, he went to his father’s tent. At that moment, Guan Yu was playing Go with Ma Liang. Though his raging fever left his mouth parched as if filled with thorns and his wound’s agony shook his body at times, his indomitable will suppressed all signs of suffering—he appeared perfectly composed while distractedly moving Go stones.

“Father. The renowned physician Hua Tuo of Wu has come from afar. How about having the wound treated?”

“Hmm.” “Hmm.” “……Wait, wait.” “Ma Liang—is it my turn now?” While baring his robes, Guan Yu entrusted his wounded arm to the physician’s care—yet still continued placing stones on the Go board with his right hand.

“What say you, Ma Liang? A master you may be,” “What… That single stone will soon become nothing but Ma Liang’s good prey.” Both men were so engrossed in their Go game that they did not even glance at Hua Tuo.—Yet Hua Tuo approached Guan Yu’s back, rolled up the sleeve of his undergarment, and intently examined the wound on his arm. The attending retainers all widened their eyes in astonishment. The wound had swollen to the size of a ripe quince fruit. Hua Tuo let out a sigh.

“This wound results from an arrowhead coated with aconite poison—its virulence has already reached the bone marrow. Had we delayed treatment a little longer, the arm would have become irrecoverable.”

Guan Yu turned to face Hua Tuo for the first time while asking,

"Is there a way to cure it now?" he asked. Hua Tuo replied confidently, "There is a way, but I fear you might be alarmed by it."

“Hahaha. “A true man who does not even fear death would not be alarmed by something as trivial as being manipulated by a physician’s hands. Proceed with the treatment as you see fit,” he said, leaving his arm in Hua Tuo’s care as he returned his full attention to the Go board.

Hua Tuo drew his medicine bag closer and took out two iron rings from within. He attached one ring to a pillar, inserted Guan Yu’s arm into the other, and made preparations to bind them securely with rope. Guan Yu looked at his own arm as if to remark, “What an odd procedure,” though he did not voice it, “What are you going to do, this Hua Tuo fellow?” he asked. Hua Tuo answered, “Using a surgical knife to cut open your flesh and extract your arm’s bone—then cleanly scraping away all areas corroded by aconite poison and any discolored portions of bone.” “There has never been a patient who remained conscious through this surgery.” “No matter how mighty a general you are, you will surely writhe in agony. Therefore, I must ask you to endure and hold still for a time.”

“What’s all this? Just preparations for that?” “It’s nothing serious. Treat me thoroughly as you see fit.” Dismissing the iron rings, he proceeded directly to undergo the surgery.

Hua Tuo began to incise the wound. The blood filled the silver basin placed below, staining both Hua Tuo's hands and blade crimson. He then scraped the arm bone with a sharp blade, producing a grating sound. Guan Yu still did not take his eyes from the Go board, though Guan Ping and the attending retainers around him had turned deathly pale—some could no longer bear to watch and rose from their seats with averted faces. When the procedure concluded, Hua Tuo cleansed the wound with alcohol and stitched it closed with thread. Beads of oily sweat glistened on Hua Tuo's forehead.

Jianye Conference

Part I

After finishing the surgery and withdrawing, Hua Tuo returned the following day to check on Guan Yu’s condition.

“General. How did you fare last night?” “Ah, I slept soundly last night. When I awoke this morning, I had even forgotten the pain. You are truly the finest physician in the land.” “Ah, this physician has attended to many patients over the years, but never before encountered a patient such as yourself, General. You are truly the finest patient in the land.”

“Hahaha.” “The finest physician and the finest patient, eh?” “Then the root of this ailment shall not remain unconquered.” “How ought I conduct my recuperation?” “You must eschew wrath.” “The venting of anger is strictly forbidden.” “I am obliged.” “I shall observe it well.” Guan Yu wrapped a hundred gold pieces and presented them to Hua Tuo. Hua Tuo did not so much as touch them. “A master physician mends nations; a virtuous one tends to men.” “This humble practitioner lacks divine power to heal realms, yet journeyed afar hoping to mend the form of a righteous soul.” “Profit was never my purpose.”

Calmly boarding a small boat once more, he departed onto the river.

Around that time, with the Wei royal palace at its center, the administrative centers of Xudu and Yedu were battling an unusual panic. Couriers—another, and yet another. For they all conveyed news of defeat in the Fancheng region—the annihilation of the seven armies, Pang De’s death in battle, Yu Jin’s surrender—and as these reports spread widely across the realm, even commoners stirred into chaos, fearing Guan Yu’s forces would soon invade, with peasants beginning to flee.

At the Wei royal palace, yet another grand council was being held today regarding that matter. At this council as well, those who trembled at Guan Yu’s name were already clamoring for the relocation of the Wei royal palace, but Sima Yi Zhongda rose to argue against its feasibility, “In essence, this great defeat was not due to the weakness of Wei’s forces, but rather because the power of the flood favored Guan Yu. It is Sun Quan of Wu who does not desire Guan Yu’s momentum to grow too much. If we persuade Wu to strike Guan Yu from behind, Sun Quan will surely respond!” he thundered.

Alongside Sima Yi Zhongda, Jiang Ji—Secretary-Director of the Chancellor’s Office—also lamented:

“Yu Jin and I have been friends for thirty years—how could he now prove inferior even to Pang De at this critical juncture? The strategy Zhongda proposed just now—I consider it priceless counsel. We must dispatch an urgent envoy to Wu without delay and unite to wipe away this great humiliation.” Cao Cao had been considering this matter, but even if they sent only an eloquent envoy, Wu might not act. “We must first demonstrate that Wei will bear the brunt of the hardship,” he concluded, “and only then persuade Wu.”

It was precisely for this purpose that Xu Huang was selected as commander-in-chief, granted fifty thousand troops, and swiftly marched to Yanglingpo. (Once Wu’s cooperation is confirmed, immediately attack Guan Yu’s forces.) Xu Huang’s army remained stationed there under orders, maintaining full readiness as they waited. Wei’s urgent envoy had arrived at Wu’s capital Jianye and now employed every diplomatic means and covert operation—for Wu’s stance alone would determine the realm’s future—as they awaited a favorable response.

The council within Jianye’s walls showed no sign of reaching a conclusion. For Wu too, this was a critical juncture. Not only that, but Wu had secretly been observing Wei’s busyness since some time ago and was considering whether they should seize Xuzhou north of the river at this very moment. But the terms Cao Cao had privately proposed were also quite favorable. (Should we attack Guan Yu and seize Jingzhou? Should we reject Wei’s demands and seize Xuzhou?) There was great hesitation there. At that very moment, Lü Meng, who had been stationed at Lukou upstream, suddenly returned to the capital. He stated that he had perceived the urgency of the times and returned to present a grand strategy.

Sun Quan summoned him and immediately inquired. "You—what strategy have you devised?" "It is precisely so," Lü Meng responded. "Now is the time for our Wu to leverage Heaven's gift of the Yangtze—seize Jingzhou and establish eternal borders against Shu and Wei's incursions. By fortifying our frontier at the river's strategic points upstream while stockpiling elite cavalry within, opportunities to take Xuzhou will surely present themselves again."

Lü Meng stated, seemingly still firmly holding an unshakable belief in certain victory even in strategic matters.

II

Lü Meng’s statement possessed ample force to steer the council’s course. This was because Lukou (upstream of Hankou)—the area he was defending—was a crucial region where the interests of Wei, Shu, and Wu intersected. He not only held the weighty responsibility of local defense commander but was also unquestionably a first-rate figure in Wu in terms of wisdom and strategic acumen. “Once the grand strategy has been decided, I entrust all local matters to your discretion.” “Handle matters appropriately.”

Sun Quan said later. Thus during this period, both Wu's issues with Wei and its current policy direction were decisively settled.

Lü Meng returned once more by fast ship to his post at Lukou. When he immediately dispatched covert agents to investigate the Jingzhou front, they discovered unexpectedly robust defenses. The reason was this: Along the coast at key points spaced every twenty or thirty *li*, beacon towers had been constructed. Should any disturbance arise at the border with Wu, their "linked signal fires" would instantly alert Jingzhou’s main fortress of the emergency. A meticulous protocol existed for mobilizing reinforcements and perfecting defensive networks—a system so thorough it left no gaps for water to seep through.

Due to Guan Yu’s unexpected vigilance, Lü Meng clicked his tongue sharply upon ascertaining this. “This won’t do,” he resolved, and from that day began feigning illness—claiming to be tormented by the recurrence of a chronic ailment and confining himself to his quarters—deceiving even his own allies thoroughly. Rumors that not only were the Lukou troops—who should have mobilized—remaining inactive, but Lü Meng had fallen ill and refused to show his face to anyone reached Sun Quan in Jianye, causing the ruler grave concern.

“At this critical juncture?!” he exclaimed in agitation, fixing his gaze on Lu Xun of Wu Commandery.

“Go immediately to Lukou and assess Lü Meng’s condition,” Sun Quan commanded. Lu Xun, upon receiving the command, “There is no need for concern. Lü Meng’s illness is likely feigned.”

With that, he left. He had already discerned Lü Meng’s intentions.

Yet when he arrived at Lukou, Lü Meng had truly shut himself in his sickroom. The camp lay silent, its officers and soldiers sunk in gloom. When Lu Xun met Lü Meng, he smirked and said,

“General, please rise from your sickbed now,” Lu Xun said with a smirk. “This humble one will cure your illness immediately.” “Lu Xun,” Lü Meng retorted sharply, “have you come to mock an invalid?” “By the lord’s command, I have come to examine Your Excellency. Though unworthy, I discerned your intentions when you last visited Jianye. Was this sudden illness after returning to your post not born of discovering Jingzhou’s defenses defied all your expectations?”

Lü Meng sluggishly rose up and suddenly looked around.

“Lu Xun.” “Speak quietly, I implore you.” “We mustn’t let anyone outside the tent hear this.” “It’s all right.” “The guards have also been dismissed.” “While Guan Yu of Jingzhou wages war against Fancheng on one front, he shows not the slightest negligence at the border with Wu.” “In fact, he has strengthened defensive forces beyond peacetime levels.” “And the construction of beacon towers at various locations has likely already been completed.” “Your Excellency Lü Meng’s illness lies precisely there, I humbly believe—but was my diagnosis mistaken?” “Hmm….” “Truly, your keen insight leaves me in awe.” “In truth, it is exactly as you say.”

“Then, let us claim it is indeed a grave illness and return together to Jianye.” “It will look as though I came to retrieve the patient—a perfect guise.”

“And then?” “What next?”

“Your Excellency must already have this in mind, but in essence, Guan Yu remains vigilant precisely because a general of Wu’s foremost caliber—such as yourself—lurks watchfully at the border of Lukou. If we feign grave illness, have Your Excellency resign, replace you with an unknown general, and display a demeanor of cowering before Jingzhou’s every breath, Guan Yu’s arrogance will swell until he inevitably redirects the troops stationed here toward Fancheng.—Wouldn’t Wu’s grand advance be precisely at that moment?”

Lü Meng and Lu Xun

I

Lu Xun was more than ten years younger than Lü Meng. At that time, he remained stationed in a local region of Wu Commandery, his reputation low and his rank no higher than that of a mid-level officer. But his talents had long been cherished by the Lord of Wu, and Lü Meng had observed him with particular depth, keeping a watchful eye on his future. The two boarded the same ship and returned once more to Jianye in Wu, where they met with Sun Quan, Lord of Wu, and provided a detailed report on Jingzhou’s actual conditions. At the same time, Lü Meng explained that his feigned illness had been merely a temporary stratagem against the enemy and apologized for having troubled his lord’s mind.

“At this opportunity, I implore you to appoint someone else to defend Lukou. If this humble one remains here, Guan Yu will not relax his defenses.” “Given that this is your stratagem, now would be an excellent time for you to resign citing illness—but Lukou is a vital territory for Wu. Who else could possibly be appointed besides someone like you?”

“Lu Xun would be suitable.” “I believe there is no one more suitable than he.”

“Lu Xun?” Sun Quan trailed off, his face clouding with reluctance as he...

“In the past, Zhou Yu deemed Lukou to be Wu’s foremost stronghold and selected Lu Su as its defending general—and that Lu Su in turn recommended you. Since this marks the third generation of its defense commanders, you ought to recommend someone with greater popularity, talent, virtue, strategic acumen, and long-term vision.” “Therefore, I submit that the one who combines all these qualities is Lu Xun. The only things Lu Xun lacks are status, reputation, and age, but his name not yet being widely known should rather be considered an advantage. If a commander of greater renown and ability than Lu Xun were sent to replace me, we could not deceive Guan Yu.”

Not long after such a private conversation between the Lord of Wu and him, Lu Xun was suddenly promoted to General of the Van and Right Commander-in-Chief. And immediately, the appointment to Lukou was issued, so he himself was more surprised than anyone else.

“I, young and unworthy...” “I am utterly incapable of succeeding His Excellency Lü Meng and cannot possibly bear such a great responsibility.” “I would likely betray my duties and taint your noble command.” “I humbly request you appoint another senior officer instead.”

Lu Xun declined repeatedly, but Sun Quan would not grant permission, instead presenting him with a horse, two bolts of brocade, and wine and delicacies,

“Depart at once,” he commanded, bestowing parting gifts. With no alternative, Lu Xun took up his post. Upon reaching his assigned territory, he promptly affixed a letter to ceremonial presents and sent an envoy to Guan Yu’s encampment,

[He] conveyed his greetings as the new appointee, stating, "I look forward to your continued guidance."

With the messenger before him, Guan Yu laughed heartily—Lü Meng falls ill, and now they install some yellow-beaked fledgling to guard Lukou! Now is our moment! Henceforth Jingzhou’s defenses stand secure. They say he chuckled endlessly in self-satisfaction, repeating “Splendid! Splendid!” to himself. When Lu Xun heard from the returned messenger how matters had unfolded, he too—

“Splendid, splendid! And that settles it,” he rejoiced without measure. Afterward, Lu Xun deliberately neglected his military duties while keeping close watch on Guan Yu’s movements. As Guan Yu’s arrow wound finally healed, he turned his attention to capturing the impregnable Fancheng, quietly diverting troops from the Lukou front and gradually shifting them toward Fancheng.

“The time has come,” declared Lu Xun, who immediately sent an urgent report detailing the circumstances to Jianye.

As soon as Sun Quan received that report, he immediately summoned Lü Meng,

“The moment has ripened.” “Join forces with Lu Xun and seize Jingzhou.” “Set out immediately!”

Having issued these orders, he specially assigned his younger brother Sun Hao as deputy general of the rear army.

The thirty thousand elite soldiers boarded over eighty speedboats and warships within a single night. For the generals serving as staff officers, only renowned warriors such as Han Dang, Jiang Qin, Zhu Ran, Pan Zhang, Zhou Tai, Xu Sheng, and Ding Feng were selected.

Of these, about ten ships—disguised as merchant vessels and manned entirely by those posing as merchants—piled mountainous goods on their decks, hoisted their sails high, and sailed up the river half a day ahead.

Two With the passing of days, Wu’s disguised fleet drifted to the northern bank of the Xunyang River (Jiujiang). It was a night of lacquer-black darkness and tempestuous waves, yet they found no moment to reef their sails,

“Who goes there? Whose ships are these?” they demanded. Immediately discovered by a troop of soldiers, the seven representatives who had disembarked were promptly taken to their encampment.

The sentries were all under Guan Yu's command. On this Xiangshan stood one of those beacon towers, with identical defenses positioned on various peaks across hundreds of ri stretching diagonally by land toward Jingzhou.

The encampment was located at the foot of Beacon-Fire Mountain. The seven representatives underwent a rigorous inspection. Of course, they were all Wu warriors, but with clever words: "We humbly submit that we are but merchants who year after year load northern goods to sail downriver south, seek southern goods to sail upriver north, and seasonally traverse the river at Jiayu as the currents dictate." "In truth, as usual, we intended to enter the Xunyang River on the opposite shore and bring our goods to the market the day after tomorrow. However, unfortunately, due to these violent waves and adverse winds, we simply could not reach that shore." "Once dawn breaks and the wind shifts, we will promptly withdraw." "We humbly beseech your mercy to allow us to remain on this shore until dawn."

After earnestly pleading in unison, they took out fine southern wines and delicacies they had brought from their ships and first bribed the sentry commander—whereupon the interrogation abruptly softened. “Very well, we’ll overlook it for now. But this is a fortified zone with beacon towers. At first light, move your ships toward Xunyang.”

“Yes, yes.” “That’s already…”

With that, the seven men rubbed their hands together deferentially,

“We will convey your gracious words to the crew members as well.”

With that, one of them returned to the shore. Then, before long, the man came back with a dozen or so sailors in tow. Each carrying sake jugs and food in their hands, they conveyed the entire crew's gratitude and proposed to present these offerings as well.

“Very well. Go ahead and keep them.” The sentry commander had opened the wine he had received earlier and was already in a tipsy mood. The subordinates too were soon drunk. Those who had come ashore from the ships even brought out hidden talents like barbarian ballads and folk songs to entertain them. In the midst of this, one of the sentries,

“Hmm?” he muttered, pricking up his ears. “Wind?” “No—something’s wrong.”

He rushed outside and looked up at the beacon tower. For there, he heard a roaring whirlwind of voices. “Ah—.” “Enemies!” The moment he screamed, a band of mounted warriors had already surrounded them here. The detachment had crawled up from behind the mountain and already seized the beacon towers.

When dawn broke, not only were last night’s merchant ships present, but over eighty warships dominated the river surface. The garrison soldiers of Jingzhou were all captured alive with dazed expressions.

“Do not be alarmed; do not fear. We will not take your lives. Rather, you are promised great future advancement depending on your achievements from this day forth.”

Lü Meng, upon landing and seeing the prisoners, earnestly admonished them. Then, after giving them valuables and actually demonstrating preferential treatment, he selected from among them those deemed most reliable as defectors,

“Persuade the sentry commander guarding the next beacon tower.” “If you persuade them and succeed, I will promote you,” he declared. This strategy succeeded repeatedly, and Lü Meng’s great army drew nearer to Jingzhou each day. And having rendered nearly ineffective the “linked beacon fires” that the enemy had meticulously prepared, they soon surged into Jingzhou’s city walls. Lü Meng had previously staked vast rewards to infiltrate a group of defectors into the city walls and sent them to spread rumors, throwing the enemy into disarray.

Meanwhile, another unit of defectors arrived at the base of Jingzhou Castle and— “Open the gate! There’s a critical matter!”

They shouted, and those inside the castle, mistaking them for allies, opened the gate—whereupon they immediately let the Wu forces flood in, setting fires in all directions and transforming this place too into a crucible of chaos.

Conical hat

One Jingzhou's main castle fell with startling ease. Guan Yu had gravely underestimated rear defenses. He had grown single-mindedly obsessed with the battlefield, while critical lapses marred his domestic governance and defensive preparations. Excessive dependence on the beacon towers' defenses numbered among these failures, but the most catastrophic shortcoming lay in his appointment of incompetent guardians for the homeland. The garrison commander Pan Jun proved mediocre at best, while Fu Shiren—defense commander of Gong'an—revealed himself as little more than a superficial schemer. As to why he had left such lackluster commanders behind when marching to Fancheng, these two generals had committed errors prior to the campaign. To uphold military discipline, Guan Yu had sternly rebuked them for their offenses and—rather than imposing formal punishment—had excluded them from the expeditionary force. This exclusion stemmed from the prevailing view that rear guard assignment brought greater dishonor to warrior houses than enduring military penalties.

Had Pan Jun been a man of true caliber, this dishonor might have spurred him to greater resolve; but both Pan Jun and Fu Shiren privately harbored resentment over it, and began calculating opportunities as they concluded that under Guan Yu’s command, their prospects for advancement were now hopeless. And just as they had utterly neglected both domestic affairs and military preparedness—with no warning from the linked beacon fires—the great army of Wu suddenly attacked. From the outcome, it could indeed be said to have been an entirely inevitable collapse.

1. Those who unlawfully kill people 1. Those who unlawfully steal goods 1. Those who unlawfully spread rumors End of proclamation. Any who violate even one [of these] shall be sentenced to death by beheading.

Wu Army Chief Commander Lü Meng Immediately after the occupation, even before Sun Quan, Lord of Wu, had entered the city, such proclamations were already erected in every town, and all the people submitted.

When the people of Jingzhou saw that Guan Yu’s clan in Jingzhou Castle had been respectfully relocated to another residence under Lü Meng’s orders and were being protected by the Wu army without anxiety or inconvenience,

“How merciful,” they whispered, passing Lü Meng’s name from mouth to mouth.

Lü Meng daily took five or six horsemen as his retinue and personally inspected the postwar conditions of the people. One day, though caught in a sudden rain along the way, he continued his inspection undeterred even as he got soaked. Then, from afar, he spotted a lone soldier dashing toward him at full speed, holding a conical hat worn by farmers and shielding it atop his helmet. “Seize him!” “Capture that soldier and bring him here!”

Lü Meng pointed his whip. Two mounted warriors galloped through the rain and immediately seized that soldier, bringing him back. When they looked, the soldier was a man from their shared hometown whose face Lü Meng also knew well.

However, Lü Meng glared at the soldier and declared: "I have long held a personal oath not to kill those from my hometown who share my surname, but that was a private vow, not an official one. You stole a farmer's conical hat during this sudden rain. Once you violated one of the articles posted on the placard, even as a fellow townsman, I cannot permit the law to be subverted. I will behead you and display your head in the streets. Resign yourself."

The soldier was shocked; wailing in the rain, he prostrated himself before Lü Meng. “I beg you, spare my life at least!” “It was a momentary lapse!” “I... I just thought it was only a conical hat...”

The soldier pleaded sorrowfully, but Lü Meng merely shook his head.

“No. Absolutely not.” “I understand it was a momentary impulse, and I know it was just a single farmer’s hat.” “However, I cannot permit this.” “That is the rigorous justice of the law.”

The soldier's head and conical hat were displayed as a gibbet in the streets. The townspeople, upon hearing word of this, "What an impartial commander!" Moved by his virtue, the three armies of Wu trembled in fear and did not pick up even a single item lying on the roads. Sun Quan, Lord of Wu, who had been waiting on the river, entered the city leading his generals. And immediately met with the surrendering general Pan Jun, accepted his plea and incorporated him into the Wu army, and also brought forth Yu Jin, the captured Wei general who had been imprisoned,

“Serve Wu,” Sun Quan commanded, and removed Yu Jin’s cangue.

Jingzhou Transformed

1 Wu achieved one of its great long-cherished ambitions there. Adding Jingzhou to their territory was indeed a decades-old aspiration since Liu Biao's death. Sun Quan's elation and the Wu army's triumph—one could well imagine. Lu Xun of Lukou too soon came to offer congratulations. At that moment, among those seated, Lü Meng,

“We have occupied Jingzhou’s central prefecture, but I cannot yet say its entire territory lies within our grasp.” “In Gong’an, Fu Shiren still holds out, and in Nanjun, Mi Fang’s army remains unmoved.” “Do you not possess some wise plan to vanquish them?”

Lü Meng asked Lu Xun.

Then the man beside him suddenly stood up. “If that be the situation, there will be no need to draw bows or nock arrows.” Yu Fan declared boldly. When they turned to look, it was Yu Fan—a man from Yuyao in Kuaiji. Sun Quan regarded him with a faint smile. “Yu Fan. What stratagem do you propose?” “Speak without reservation,” said Sun Quan.

Yu Fan bowed respectfully, “In that case, this humble one and Fu Shiren have been friends since childhood.” “He will surely lend an ear to this humble one’s arguments of gain and loss.” “Therefore, this humble one has no doubt that Gong’an can be occupied without bloodshed.”

“Interesting. Go and try to persuade him.”

Sun Quan granted him five hundred cavalry. Yu Fan departed for Gong’an brimming with confidence. In truth, he held an unwavering belief in the success of this mission within his heart. For he knew Fu Shiren’s character well.

However, as for Fu Shiren, he was trembling in fear these days. He deepened the moats, closed the city gates, deployed scouts, and heightened vigilance.

However, when he heard his friend Yu Fan was approaching with some five hundred cavalry, he kept quiet within the city walls, still gripped by suspicion. Yu Fan drew near the city gate and shot an arrow with a letter affixed into the city.

“What? An arrow-letter has fallen?… Let me see… What does it say?” Fu Shiren opened it and read through Yu Fan’s message. He pored over the characters again and again as if examining a flea, but his scrutiny ultimately uncovered no dubious wording.

"True—even if I hold out here, when Guan Yu returns, my pre-war crimes will be questioned. At best, my crimes and merits would cancel each other out. If I were surrounded by Wu forces and Guan Yu’s reinforcements didn’t arrive in time, I’d be utterly destroyed here. Yu Fan’s arguments must’ve come from genuine concern for me."

He ran out and had the soldiers open the gate. And having welcomed Yu Fan in,

“I’ve longed to see you,” he first appealed to their old bond, “I leave everything in your hands,” he said, entrusting all affairs next. “Now that I have come, let all matters be put at ease.”

Yu Fan took him and promptly returned to Jingzhou. Sun Quan, of course, accepted this result in high spirits. Sun Quan bestowed a great reward upon Yu Fan and informed Fu Shiren, “Since I have seen your true heart, I shall never treat you differently from my old retainers.” “Now that you have returned, properly admonish your subordinates and make them swear future loyalty to Wu.” “And I permit you to remain as commander of Gong’an as before,” he declared with magnanimity. As Fu Shiren expressed his gratitude and was about to withdraw from the city, Lü Meng tugged at the Marquis of Wu’s sleeve.

“Do you intend to send that one back as he is?” “We can’t very well kill him now, can we?” “To send him back empty-handed would be no different than killing a perfectly good man. Why do you not entrust him with such a mission—…” When Lü Meng whispered something to him, Sun Quan abruptly dispatched a retainer to summon Fu Shiren back.

He immediately posed a question and issued another command. “You have a close relationship with Mi Fang of Nanjun, do you not?” “Naturally, since he was an ally until yesterday.”

“Hah… There is a connection between us…” “Then it can be said that persuading Mi Fang through friendship is your duty. If you persuade him and bring him before this lord, Mi Fang will be generously employed—and you shall receive additional rewards. How about it?”

“Let us depart for Nandu at once.”

Fu Shiren returned in a flustered panic. Sun Quan glanced back at Lü Meng and smirked.

Two

“I’ve ended up shouldering a tremendously difficult task.”

Fu Shiren went to consult his friend Yu Fan with a gloomy face. And in a tone laced with complaints— “Now that I look back, I feel that listening to you was a grave mistake.” “As for the Marquis of Wu’s command—it is a most difficult task.” “Persuading Mi Fang is impossible.” “If I say I must decline, I’ll instantly be branded disloyal and beheaded—and Gong’an Castle will fall without resistance. …But then again, Mi Fang isn’t just anyone in Shu. He’s been a veteran general since Xuande raised his banner from humble origins.” “There’s no way he’d meekly surrender just because of my silver tongue.”

When he voiced his perplexity, Yu Fan laughed at his timidity and struck his back once.

“Hey! Pull yourself together.” “Isn’t this the critical juncture of your own rise and fall?” “No matter how stubborn Mi Fang may be, he’s no unfeeling statue.” “No—his clan were originally wealthy merchants and men of great fortune in Hubei.” “It so happened that this bored magnate took an interest in Liu Bei—that stormy hero—and quietly funded his campaigns from behind the scenes. In time, even the brothers Mi Zhu and Mi Fang ended up joining Liu Bei’s inner circle.” “—That would be his background, would it not?” “Judging by that, Mi Fang must surely keep clear ledgers of profit and loss in his mind even now.” “Men who care nothing for fame or life are impossible to handle, but those who grasp their own interests are easiest to persuade.” “Well—go forth with conviction and try this approach.”

“You’re telling me to go through with this?” “In other words, this is how you proceed.” On a scrap of paper at hand, Yu Fan dashed off something with his brush. Fu Shiren had been reading silently with his head close, but suddenly made a face as if he had realized something—

“Ah! So that’s how it is.” “Indeed,” he murmured deeply impressed—then immediately took on a courageous demeanor as he...

“Then, I’ll be off,” he said and departed.

With about ten horsemen in tow, he departed for Nandu. Mi Fang left the castle, welcomed his friend, first inquired about Guan Yu’s news, lamented the fall of Jingzhou, and wiped away bitter tears. “Well… Actually—about that very matter—I’ve come to consult you today as well.” “By ‘consultation,’ do you mean regarding military strategy?” “Well, even I am not ignorant of loyalty—but with Jingzhou fallen, all is already lost. After deep consideration that it would be better than pointlessly letting soldiers die and causing suffering to the people, I have in fact already sworn surrender to Wu.”

“What?! You surrendered?” “You should furl your banners and come with me to pay homage to Sun Quan. The Marquis of Wu remains young with a promising future—and shows every sign of being a wise lord.”

“Fu Shiren! Know your place when you speak! How dare you question the covenant between Mi Fang and the King of Hanzhong as liege and vassal?” “But…”

“Silence! I am not one who would betray the King of Hanzhong - he who has shown me such profound favor through these many years - at this critical juncture.” At that moment came hurried word from Mi Fang’s retainer. A messenger had arrived posthaste from Guan Yu on the battlefield.

“Let him through.”

Mi Fang said. The messenger arrived and, announcing that due to the urgent matter he would deliver a verbal message, conveyed Guan Yu's demands as follows:

“Due to the great flood in the Fancheng area, while the war situation has progressed favorably, the shortage of provisions is beyond words, and the entire army has reached the height of exhaustion. Therefore, you are to urgently procure 100,000 koku of provisions from the regions of Nandu and Gong’an and transport them to Guan Yu’s camp. If there is any negligence in this matter, it is the order that we shall report to Chengdu and have you subjected to severe punishment.”

Mi Fang and Fu Shiren exchanged glances. It was an utterly unreasonable demand. Procuring 100,000 koku of provisions would be difficult enough, and now that Jingzhou had fallen, there was no means of transportation either. “What are we to do?”

Mi Fang crossed his arms and buried his face in them. Fu Shiren, who had turned traitor, was no longer someone he could consult with, and if he were to defy Guan Yu’s command, there was no telling what calamities might befall him in the future. “Gah!” Suddenly, under a spray of blood, the messenger collapsed. Mi Fang also jumped up in shock. It was Fu Shiren who drew his sword and suddenly killed the messenger. Clutching the bloodied sword, he pressed further toward Mi Fang.

III Mi Fang, as if bereft of his senses, turned deathly pale and trembled violently—but then, “This violence has gone too far! “Why on earth did you cut down Guan Yu’s messenger…?” Fu Shiren, also deathly pale, said: “To hasten your decision.” “It’s also to preserve our lives.” “Can’t you see through Guan Yu’s intentions?” “Guan Yu is knowingly imposing these impossible demands so that later he can attribute Jingzhou’s defeat to our negligence—that’s his black-hearted scheme. Mi Fang!” “Let us go to the Marquis of Wu.” “Why should we bind our hands and die like dogs?” “Let’s leave the castle!”

He sheathed his sword and pulled Mi Fang by the hand. This was of course a stratagem bestowed by Yu Fan—Guan Yu’s orders were fabricated, and needless to say, the messenger had been an imposter all along. Mi Fang still hesitated. He harbored lingering doubts about the scheme. But at that very moment, a tumult of war cries and earth-shaking drums reached their ears—stunned, they rushed onto the ramparts only to find Wu’s massive army had already encircled the city.

“Why do you not rejoice in living?” With that, Fu Shiren took the arm of the bewildered Mi Fang and forcibly led him from the castle. Through Yu Fan’s mediation, they then met Lü Meng, and Lü Meng brought Mi Fang before Sun Quan.

×　　　　　×　　　　　×

Wu’s special envoy entered Wei’s capital with intelligence.

The special envoy stated. “Wu has already conquered Jingzhou.” “Why does Wei not seize this opportunity to destroy Guan Yu?”

Of course, Cao Cao was not passively observing this situation. He had merely been waiting for the opportune moment until Wu's position became unequivocal.

“The time is right,” he declared and began to move. Cao Cao led Wei’s great army southward from Luoyang. Further south at Yangling Slope, Xu Huang’s vanguard force of fifty thousand troops had already taken position and now confronted the enemy. “His Majesty the King of Wei has personally taken the field,” announced the envoy, “and commands that Guan Yu be utterly destroyed this time.” “Within days, His Majesty will advance several tens of li further.” “Xu Huang’s forces must strike first against the enemy’s vanguard positions with their own forward units.” The military envoy arrived at Xu Huang’s encampment and delivered Cao Cao’s commands verbatim.

“Understood,” declared Xu Huang. He immediately ordered the two units under Xu Shang and Lü Jian to raise his commander’s banner and adopt a frontal assault, while he himself organized a surprise force of over five hundred cavalry and followed the course of the Mian River to outflank the rear of Yancheng, identified as the enemy’s core position. At that time, Guan Ping, son of Guan Yu, was stationed at Yancheng, while his subordinate Liao Hua had established defenses at Sizhong. Between these points, they had arrayed a continuous line of twelve fortified encampments along the undulating wilderness, simultaneously maintaining the siege of Fancheng on one front and preparing for Wei’s reinforcements on another.

“The Wei army at Yangling Slope has suddenly begun moving—they’re brandishing Xu Huang’s commander’s banner!” The soldiers of Yancheng erupted in uproar. Guan Ping readied his gear and waited for their approach,

“If Xu Huang himself comes, the enemy will find no shortage of opposition!” declared Guan Ping. He led three thousand elite soldiers out of the city gates, seized advantageous terrain to deploy his formations, aligned war drums and sounded gongs—his banners appearing to shake the very heavens.

But Wei’s commander’s banner was a decoy. From beneath it came rushing out Xu Shang and Lü Jian. The two aligned their spears,

“We won’t let you return, brat!” they declared, launching a pincer attack on Guan Ping. Yet Guan Ping’s valor drove him to pursue Xu Shang and cut down Lü Jian, instead throwing them into disarray. And finally, chasing and chasing the two fleeing men, he pursued them for over ten ri.

Then, from a completely unexpected direction, a force of cavalry came charging like a whirlwind toward their flank. And then a general— “Do you not realize, Guan Ping? Jingzhou has already been seized by Wu’s Sun Quan! You—fatherless whelp of a defeated general! What are you clinging to, still dithering on this battlefield?!” he roared. There stood the true Xu Huang.

Temples Streaked with Snow

一 “What? Jingzhou has fallen?” Guan Ping lost the will to fight, abandoned Xu Huang, and hurried back in a rush. In his confused mind,

Could it be true? No way… His heart pounded in turmoil as he wavered.

And when he galloped near Yancheng, lo—thick black smoke billowed from the castle. And when he questioned the allied soldiers scattering in all directions like spider hatchlings from beneath the flames, “Xu Huang’s forces stealthily approached the rear gate and launched an assault with blazing flames,” they said in unison.

"So today’s battle was our clumsy battle that fell right into his trap?"

He stomped the ground and shouted, but it was already too late. Guan Ping struck his steed and hurried to Sizhong’s encampment.

Liao Hua welcomed him and immediately led him into the camp. “Today—from nowhere—voices keep spreading rumors that Jingzhou has fallen, that Wu has seized Jingzhou. Have you heard them too?” he asked. Guan Ping drew his sword and stood among the allied forces, addressing the entire army in response to Liao Hua. “All these rumors are enemy schemes to break our fighting spirit.” “I’ll execute anyone who spreads falsehoods or shows interest in them!”

For several days, they focused solely on defense while observing nearby strategic positions and enemy movements. Sizhong lay before the Mian River’s flow—its main roads secured by deer fences, its rear consisting of valleys, mountains, and dense forests so treacherous that even birds would struggle to fly through. “Xu Huang has reached that distant mountain while riding his victory wave, according to scout reports,” said Guan Ping. That bare mountain holds no strategic advantage. On the contrary, our Sizhong position remains impregnable. We could defend it even with minimal troops. “Why don’t you and I slip out secretly to launch a night attack against him?”

Having lost Yancheng, Guan Ping was somewhat hasty in his eagerness to avenge the disgrace. Finally, he invited Liao Hua and departed from their headquarters. Of course, the soldiers he took with him were the absolute elite, meticulously chosen.

On a hill in the wilderness stood an encampment. It was the so-called frontline unit. This small unit was spread out in scattered positions horizontally, stretching over twelve locations across a long distance. The prospect of the enemy breaking through this line was terrifying. For if one point were breached, all twelve units would be scattered. The reason Liao Hua had taken action in accordance with Guan Ping’s fervor was ultimately due to the critical importance of that position. “Tonight, I will lead the assault on the enemy’s bare mountain. You will hold this line. When you see the enemy in disarray, form a twelve-unit linked formation to compress them and annihilate all the scattered fleeing soldiers.”

Leaving instructions with Liao Hua behind, only Guan Ping launched a midnight assault on the bare mountain. However, on the mountain top there were only shadowy flags—no people remained.

"Blast it." Just as he tried to make a sudden dash downward—from scattered caves here and there behind rocks to the back mountain—war cries exploded alongside detonations and curses and roars that seemed to split open the very earth itself—a veritable tsunami of sound.

Generals Lü Jian and Xu Shang, “Brat! Did your father teach you nothing but how to flee?” chased Guan Ping around. Even after leaving the mountain and emerging into the open fields, the Wei army only grew larger. Every blade of grass seemed to transform into Wei soldiers chasing Guan Ping. Even the line Liao Hua had been defending could not withstand this raging tide and collapsed all at once. No—worse yet, fierce flames now began to scorch the night sky from Sizhong’s encampment as well. Gasping for breath, when they reached the flow of the Mian River, there at the forefront stood Xu Huang astride his horse, “Do not allow a single one to cross!” having deployed an impeccable annihilation formation.

“Do not allow a single one to cross.”

Xu Huang had flawlessly deployed an annihilation formation. There remained no means of recovery. This was total defeat. Guan Ping and Liao Hua had no choice but to flee to Fancheng. When they stood before Guan Yu, "We bring shame upon you," they said, wiping away tears with their fists. "Such is the nature of war."

Guan Yu did not scold. However, when Guan Ping reported the rumors about Jingzhou, “Foolish!” he rebuked—“The general at Lukou is a mere child, the beacon towers are prepared, and Jingzhou’s defenses are as secure as Mount Tai. What are you doing, even you falling for the enemy’s rumors?” he admonished in a harsh tone. II

Both Cao Cao's central army and Xu Huang's vanguard advanced remarkably. A great army—numbering in the tens if not hundreds of thousands—now filled the mountains and fields, relentlessly pressing toward Guan Yu’s encampment. “Do you see me now, Xu Huang?” The arrow wound on Guan Yu’s left arm now appeared completely healed, but this was the first time in a long while since his illness that his hand gripped the Green Dragon Blade. “You must avoid Xu Huang!” Guan Ping had tried to dissuade him, but—Guan Yu shook his long beard sideways, “Xu Huang is an old friend. “I must speak a word and show that I have not yet aged—”

At last, on the day the two armies clashed, Guan Yu rode out and met Xu Huang. Xu Huang had brought along a dozen or so fierce generals behind him. On horseback, he performed a salute, then spoke. “Since our parting—though several years have passed—I never imagined that the General’s hair at the temples would turn entirely white like snow.” “In my youth, during my vigorous years—the teachings I reverently received from you—I have not forgotten even now.” “I am fortunate to behold your countenance today.” “My emotions are truly boundless.” “I am overjoyed.”

“Ah! So it is you, Xu Huang. You too have recently achieved illustrious fame. Guan Yu too has privately rejoiced. Yet why must you act so harshly toward my son Guan Ping? If you truly have not forgotten our past intimacy—even if yielding merit to others—ought you not remain hidden in the rear ranks yourself?” “Nay, General! Have you already forgotten? In my youth—did you not teach me that ‘Great righteousness destroys kin’? Now, generals! Seize that white-haired head! Rewards shall be granted as you desire!”

With a thunderous shout—as soon as his horse’s hooves stirred the earth—he too swung his axe alongside the fierce generals behind him and charged at Guan Yu. I am not old! I am not old! Guan Yu drove himself onward, wielding his Green Dragon Blade through dozens of clashes that roared like thunder and lightning.

However, the arrow wound could not yet be said to have fully healed—especially given his advanced age and recent convalescence. The danger proved unbearable to witness, particularly for Guan Ping, whose filial devotion compelled him to act. Without delay, Guan Ping sounded the retreat gong and rallied their forces. This signal had been a grim premonition indeed. Simultaneously, Fancheng’s long-besieged garrison threw open its gates and surged forth in a desperate sally. These soldiers fought with such death-defying resolve that they easily shattered the encirclement, driving Guan Yu’s troops into chaotic retreat toward the Xiang River’s banks.

From these two fronts collapsing, Guan Yu’s army came to complete ruin, and as night fell, they began fleeing in succession toward the upper reaches of the Xiang River.

Along the routes, Wei’s great army arose from all quarters, spurring on the dispersal of this weakened force. In particular, Lü Chang’s surprise attack severed their lines completely, leaving countless soldiers to drown in the river. Finally crossing the river and entering Xiangyang, when Guan Yu looked back upon his allies—how pitifully few they were, how heartrending their state—even he could not hold back bitter tears. Not only that, but upon arriving here, he finally understood that Jingzhou’s fall was no mere rumor. Hearing that his entire clan—wife and children included—now lived under Wu’s great general Lü Meng’s control, Guan Yu heaved a long sigh toward heaven and remained wordless for a time.

The Wei army immediately spread from the riverbanks all the way beyond the city, and they could no longer remain in Xiangyang for long. As they headed toward Gong'an Castle, midway through their journey, a general from their own ranks came fleeing with grievous tidings: that Gong'an too had fallen—Fu Shiren had opened its gates and surrendered it to Wu—and that Mi Fang of Nandu, having been persuaded by him, had also capitulated to Sun Quan.

“Hmm... Why must it come to this...?” Guan Yu gritted his teeth, his resentment piercing the heavens as he glared with eyes that seemed ready to split their sockets—when suddenly, with a thud, he collapsed forward onto his horse’s mane. The wound on his arm split open. They lifted him down and tended to him, but Guan Yu, endlessly ashamed of his own shortsightedness, whenever he heard of Lü Meng’s strategies or the beacon towers’ betrayal,

“I erred—I fell into the scheme of a brat.” “With what face could I live to meet my elder brother (Xuande)?” With that, he covered his face with his armored sleeve and sobbed uncontrollably, voice and tears choking together. Meanwhile, Cao Ren—who had left Fancheng and, overnight reversing offense and defense, shifted to pursuit—was interrupted by his retainer Sima Zhao Yan’s,

“It is folly to drive Guan Yu further into desperation now—to leave harm for Wu—” Persuaded by this profound strategy，Cao Ren duly withdrew his troops and assembled them all into Cao Cao’s main army. Cao Cao praised Xu Huang for his first-class merit in this campaign，enfeoffed him as General Who Pacifies the South，and stationed him to defend Xiangyang.

Moonfall at Maicheng

I

Shall we advance? Before us lies the Wu army in Jingzhou. Shall we retreat? Behind us, Wei’s great army lies arrayed.

Scattered and few, across the field where the defeated army fell, only a mournful wind cut through the heart.

“Great General,” Zhao Lei proposed deferentially, “why not attempt sending a letter to Lü Meng? When he was stationed at Lukou in former days, he often delivered secret missives from his side—proposing that when the hour arrived, we might ally ourselves to crush Wu and annihilate Wei, entreating us to forge a bond sworn by severed necks. Perhaps he still nurses those sentiments deeply…”

The retainer Zhao Lei suggested. “Perhaps I shall attempt it as well.” It was akin to a path through impenetrable darkness. He thought to find even a single point of light.

Guan Yu drafted a letter.

Carrying this, the messenger went to Jingzhou. Upon hearing this, Lü Meng went out of his way to welcome them outside the city walls, lining up horses and personally guiding them.

“It is said that General Guan Yu’s messenger has arrived.” “If you are Lord Guan Yu’s retainer, you would know news of our sons who joined the campaign to Fancheng.” Hearing the news, Jingzhou’s citizens crowded around the envoy, pleading for word of their children—whether they lived or had fallen in battle—and for news of their husbands, parents, brothers, uncles, and nephews, demanding to know their fates. “When I return.” “When I return,” said the messenger, calming them, and finally entered the castle town.

Lü Meng read the letter, “I deeply sympathize with General Guan’s position.” “Nor have I forgotten our old friendship.” “However, as for our bond—that is my personal affair.” “Today’s matter is the nation’s command.” “Pray take care of your health—please convey that I have stated my regards.”

Lü Meng provided the messenger with a lavish feast, sent him off with gifts of gold and silk, and escorted him with utmost courtesy to the city gates. When they saw the departing messenger, Jingzhou’s citizens—each holding letters and comfort items they had prepared beforehand in their hands— “Please deliver this to my child—and this to my husband,” they entreated the messenger.

And still they continued to say in unison: “We all, thanks to Lord Lü Meng’s benevolent governance, now live without a single worry—clothed more warmly than before, with medicine given to the sick and rescue granted to those in distress—so please convey this as well to our sons and husbands.” The messenger was distressed. He wanted to cover his ears and flee. Eventually returning to the desolate camp in the barren wilderness and reporting everything truthfully to Guan Yu, Guan Yu let out a long, drawn-out sigh and...

“Ah… I cannot hope to match Lü Meng’s far-reaching stratagems.” Now that I reflect, it was all part of Lü Meng’s far-reaching stratagems. "To have even the people of Jingzhou submit to him to such an extent... What a fearsome man..." After that, he closed his mouth and said nothing. Only a single tear glistened at the corner of his eye. The camp could not remain here long. When heavy rain came, the vicinity would instantly turn into swamps and rivers. In that case, he would adopt a shattered-jewel doctrine and charge straight into Jingzhou. To cross blades with Lü Meng would be a grim satisfaction.

Having issued the command, he decided they would break camp and depart at dawn. Yet when day broke, most soldiers had already slipped away unnoticed, leaving their military force ever more diminished.

“Oh no,” he thought. “If I had known it would come to this, I never should have let the soldiers hear those letters, parcels, and messages requested by Jingzhou’s citizens.” The general who had served as envoy secretly regretted his actions, but it was already too late. On the faces of the remaining soldiers too, shadows of homesickness and lingering attachment lay heavy, their fighting spirit showing no sign of revival.

“Let those who leave, leave.” “Even if I am left alone, I will enter Jingzhou.”

Guan Yu advanced resolutely. However, along the way, Wu’s two generals Jiang Qin and Zhou Tai had taken up positions at a strategic pass and lay in wait. They fought by the riverside, clashed with roars across the plains, and howled at each other in the pitch-black mountains. And there, Xu Sheng of Wu thundered war drums to spring his ambush, attacking from both mountain peaks and valleys below. “What are a million enemies to me?” Amidst his usual composure, Guan Yu’s martial valor showed no sign of fatigue. But amidst the mountain gorge, when the bright half-moon shone clearly, even he lost the strength to fight upon hearing the echoing voices of the people.

Parents called to their children, and children called to their parents. Sometimes the names of husbands, sometimes the names of wives—voices calling out to one another could faintly be heard in the mournful wind. And here and there, Guan Yu’s soldiers waved white flags and raced toward Jingzhou. “Ah…” “Is this too Lü Meng’s stratagem?” Guan Yu stood rigid under the moon, his expression disheartened.

Two

The flock of birds that had flown away did not return though called. The flowing waters did not turn back though beckoned with hands. Once soldiers began scattering and fleeing, having lost their will to fight and driven by lingering attachments, even the most renowned commander could not summon their footsteps back beneath the military banners. There was nothing left but to fold their hands and watch. "All is lost." Guan Yu's figure remained motionless like a cold stone statue. The remaining officers and soldiers numbered fewer than four or five hundred. However, Guan Ping and Liao Hua,

“We must find a way through this somehow.” Gathering their meager forces and launching surprise attacks on the enemy’s encirclement, they finally opened a bloody path through one front, “Let us retreat to Maicheng for now,” they said, protecting Guan Yu as they ran toward the foothills. Maicheng was not far off. But there now remained only an ancient city from the Former Qin era that persisted in name alone. Of course, its walls and stone ramparts had long lain abandoned and crumbling into ruin. “If five hundred spirits could unite as one and hold fast in such times,” declared Liao Hua, “even this place might be deemed an iron-walled fortress.”

Upon entering here, when Liao Hua thus bolstered morale, Guan Ping too first demonstrated his own vigorous spirit, “Exactly! All the weak soldiers clinging to attachments have fallen away—those who remain here are true heroes sifted through the sieve. Each fierce warrior here could take on a thousand enemies. The small number of troops means nothing!” he boldly declared. Even so, both Guan Ping and Liao Hua were fully prepared for the worst in their hearts. The two came before Guan Yu and once again made this proposal.

“From here, the land of Shangyong is not far.” “In the castle of Shangyong are Shu’s Liu Feng, Meng Da, and others.” “If we request aid from Shu’s forces there, summon them to renew our strength, and scatter Wei’s troops, I believe we can be nine times out of ten certain of recapturing Jingzhou.” “That is indeed the only strategy.”

Guan Yu climbed the watchtower and gazed out beyond the ancient city. To his shock, every mountain and river across the land had transformed into Wu flags and Wu soldiers—what one might call an ironclad encirclement through which not even an ant could slip. Moreover, their ranks stood orderly, their morale ran high, and their horses' neighing remained vigorous. Guan Yu turned and said: "Is there anyone who can break through this heavy siege to reach Shangyong as our envoy? To go out would mean instant death."

No sooner had he heard this than Liao Hua responded.

“I swear I will carry out this mission. If I fail, I will die—that is all. Please send out a second envoy immediately.”

That night, Liao Hua sewed a letter from Guan Yu into his clothing, was seen off by the people, and slipped out through one of the ancient city’s gates.

Instantly, the dark night's path resounded with the clash of metal drums and iron spears. Subordinates of Wu's general Ding Feng quickly detected them and gave chase. From within the city walls, Guan Ping's unit emerged and fiercely threw them into disarray. Liao Hua finally crossed the brink of death.

He tasted every bitterness, becoming a figure like a beggar, until he finally arrived at his destination: Shangyong. And upon visiting the castle, he immediately met with Liu Feng and reported the details, “Even the indomitable General Guan is now completely cornered within Maicheng.” “If rescue is delayed, General Guan will have no choice but to meet his end.” “A day—no, even a moment—is a time we cannot afford to lose.” “I humbly request that you dispatch reinforcements immediately.” he declared emphatically without even taking a sip of water.

Liu Feng nodded. But then—who could have guessed his thoughts— “In any case, I shall consult Meng Da.” Having made him wait, he abruptly sent for Meng Da.

Before long, Meng Da had come to a separate chamber. Liu Feng went there, and the two began earnestly deliberating the issue—after all, even here in Shangyong, their forces were now dispersed across minor conflicts in various regions. Moreover, splitting their own troops from this castle to send them far away was by no means a favorable matter for the two.

III

Meng Da, with a troubled expression, persuaded Liu Feng. “We must refuse.” “Though regrettable, we cannot comply with Guan Yu’s request.” “Needless to say, the Nine Commanderies of Jingzhou hold no fewer than four hundred thousand Wu troops, while in Jianghan, Cao Cao’s Wei forces—numbering four to five hundred thousand—are mobilizing.” “What could two or three thousand reinforcements achieve against such numbers?” “Rather than help, it would only imperil Shangyong itself.”

Meng Da’s argument was common sense. Yet Liu Feng was tormented. For Guan Yu was his uncle.

Meng Da, reading his expression, said: “Since you are the adopted son of the Liu family, it was Guan Yu who obstructed your rightful position as heir to the Prince of Hanzhong. Initially, when the Prince of Hanzhong consulted Zhuge Liang about the matter, Zhuge Liang—being a clever man—deftly sidestepped it by saying: ‘Family matters should be discussed with Guan Yu or Zhang Fei.’ When the inquiry reached Guan Yu, he declared: ‘It is an eternal principle from ancient times that a crown prince should not appoint a concubine-born son. You were originally an adopted son—they should have just given you some remote castle in the mountains and been done with it.’ His reply treated you like mere dirt.”

“Even so… if we abandon Guan Yu to die now, what censure might we face from the world?” “Who would blame one for being unable to quench a flaming firewood cart with but a cup of water?” Liu Feng had finally made up his mind. He met with Liao Hua and delivered his refusal. Liao Hua was aghast. He struck his head and pressed his face to the floor,

“If you do not send reinforcements, General Guan will perish at Maicheng! Are you resolved to abandon him to die?!”

Liao Hua wept bitterly.

“How could a cup of water ever quench a firewood cart’s flames?” Liu Feng dismissed him with those words and fled into the inner chambers. Liao Hua further sought an audience with Meng Da, but Meng Da used a feigned illness and would not meet him no matter what. He stamped the ground in frustration and left Shangyong. And cursing repeatedly, he whipped his horse and galloped toward distant Chengdu. For he had resolved that no matter how distant the path—through countless mountains and rivers—he must now personally seek rescue from the Prince of Hanzhong.

×　　　　　×　　　　　×

Maicheng showed increasing signs of decline day by day. Guan Yu, Guan Ping, and their five hundred officers and soldiers waited with bated breath, "Today? Or tomorrow?" They waited for Liao Hua's return and the banners of reinforcements, but at times only flocks of migratory birds crossing the sky could be seen. Provisions had been exhausted, hearts had grown weary, both men and horses lacked vitality, and within the ancient city that resembled a graveyard, only the grass continued to grow.

Guan Yu sat with his eyes closed in a dimly lit chamber. Zhao Lei prostrated himself before him. "The fate of the city now hangs by a thread. What should we do?" "Just defend well. To the end."

Guan Yu spoke only a single word.

At that moment.—There was someone knocking at the city gate. He was a military supervisor and staff officer of Wu and also said to be the elder brother of Kongming of Shu. That man was none other than Zhuge Jin.

“It has truly been a long time.”

When Zhuge Jin met Guan Yu, he conveyed the intent of the Marquis of Wu. “To recognize the exigencies of the times is the mark of a true general’s discernment. The tide has already turned. Within the Nine Commanderies of Jingzhou, only the single stronghold of Maicheng remains—now there is nothing that is not Wu’s army. Moreover, with no provisions within and no rescue from without—no matter how you maintain your honor—is it not futile? Lord Sun Quan has sent this humble one and graciously commanded that you be welcomed. How about it? Will you not join me on the path of glory and longevity—that is, surrender at Wu’s camp gates?”

Guan Yu shrugged with a wry smile.

“The Lord of Wu lacks discernment to judge men.” “Spare me these sweet words meant for cowards.” “Though driven to extremity, Guan Yu remains the jewel of martial houses.” “Shattered yet undimmed; broken yet unblemished.” “In days few, I shall quit these walls and settle accounts with Sun Quan through honorable combat.” “Return and deliver this.”

“Why does the General so willingly court his own destruction?” Then from a corner came a thunderous “Silence!” as a young man sprang forward with sword flashing from its scabbard toward Zhuge Jin. Guan Yu barked a rebuke and seized Guan Ping’s arm,

“Wait,” Guan Yu commanded. “He is Kongming’s brother. For Kongming’s sake, release him.” When they had driven Jin beyond the city walls, Guan Yu closed his eyes again in desolation.

The mountains of Shu lay distant.

I

But enough digression—

In the China of seventeen hundred years ago, one could glimpse the China of today; in modern China, the China of the Three Kingdoms era is often observed.

Warfare has been throughout all ages—from ancient times to the present—the ceaseless flow of the Yellow River and the billowing waves of the Yangtze coursing through Chinese history. By what fate had this continental nation not known a single half-century free from warfare throughout its thousands of years?

Therefore, all of China’s representative figures were forged in the midst of warfare and built their lives within its turmoil. The people too cultivated the soil of ceaseless turmoil, bore children under constant fear and trembling, and managed all aspects of their livelihoods—exile, separations, joys and sorrows—amidst the ravages of war like ground bees. In particular, the Three Kingdoms conflict of the Later Han era transformed all of China into a raging inferno of interlinked war flames, and this vast conflagration of battle fires became a great whirlwind period across the entire loess continent—invading as far north as Mengjiang and reaching from present-day Yunnan to the Indochina Peninsula in the south. It was a crucible of great turmoil.

It was Liu Bei Xuande who rose under the banner of saving the people through benevolence; Cao Cao of Wei who pursued hegemony by invoking the Han dynasty’s authority and brandishing imperial might; and Sun Quan, Marquis of Wu in Jianye (present-day Nanjing), who amassed wealth and military prowess in Jiangnan while perpetually scheming to advance upstream.

The 24th year of the Jian’an era.

Cao Cao achieved his long-held ambition by ascending to the position of King of Wei and even usurping the imperial regalia, while Liu Bei Xuande, following Kongming’s counsel, proclaimed himself King of Hanzhong in Shu’s Chengdu. They placed Guan Yu in Jingzhou, which bordered both Wei and Wu, devoting themselves for a time to expanding domestic governance. Indeed, Shu’s great misfortune arose at that very time from precisely that Jingzhou—it was the death of Guan Yu and the loss of Jingzhou. Later historians debated this turn of events, calling it a grave complacency born of Xuande’s smooth progress and good fortune while also arguing it constituted a major blunder by Kongming in his role as royal aide—thus condemning both Liu Bei and Kongming.

However. From a broad perspective, what truly mattered for Shu in the Central Plains lay not in Jingzhou but in Hanzhong. There in Hanzhong, Cao Cao of Wei personally led a massive army plotting its recapture—at this critical juncture, Shu's attention had naturally become fixated on Cao Cao. This same Cao Cao and Sun Quan of Wu had been mortal enemies since Chibi. That their years-long animosity would vanish overnight through diplomatic machinations—that Wei and Wu would forge friendship while Wu's great warships sailed up the Yangtze to threaten Jingzhou—this reversal defied all imagination.

Moreover, both Liu Bei and Kongming had somewhat overrelied on Guan Yu's military prowess. In loyalty, valor, and wisdom, Guan Yu was indeed undoubtedly a renowned general of his time. But even so, there were limits. Once that foothold in Jingzhou was lost, even Guan Yu—his tragic end, the weariness of battle in his later years—painted a scene too pitiful to behold. With war clouds now reaching their zenith across the land and this great general star meeting his brilliant demise amidst Maicheng’s grasses as the watershed, the grand war history of the Three Kingdoms could well be called the *Former Three Kingdoms Chronicle* up to this point, and henceforth referred to as the *Latter Three Kingdoms Chronicle*. “It is precisely the *Latter Three Kingdoms Chronicle* that forms its core—centered on Zhuge Kongming, who devoted his life to serving Xuande’s orphaned heir with tears of loyalty and blood of righteousness until the day he fell at Wuzhang Plains.” Since ancient times, our ancestors have even said that those who do not weep upon reading the *Chu Shi Biao* are not true men. Undoubtedly, he too was an Eastern man. Therefore, the author too remained convinced of the significance of writing this new interpretation in today’s Japan. It was my earnest hope that readers too, through discerning this significance, might find it even a small contribution toward understanding and concern for the friend nation of the Chinese people—ever afflicted by perennial warfare and political upheavals born of shared roots and existence.

II

Kongming’s elder brother, Zhuge Jin, was always in a difficult position and was constantly assigned to painful missions.

Gentle and erudite, he was a man of no small stature, yet overshadowed by the extraordinary greatness of his younger brother Kongming; thus his name never gained renown, and his very existence was often forgotten.

After all, he served Wu while his younger brother Kongming was in Shu. That he remained unsuspected by both the Marquis of Wu and Wu’s officers and soldiers—that mere continued presence in Wu’s camp—made plain how upright and steadfast a man he was. Yet despite this, whenever employed or selected as envoy, it was solely for such grueling near-impossible tasks as diplomatic stratagems against Shu or operations to sway Guan Yu—duties which invariably meant indirectly drawing bow against his own kin.

Even when he had been sent as an envoy to Jingzhou before, he had tasted bitterness, but this time too, upon entering Maicheng to persuade Guan Yu, how much anguish he must have felt within his heart could scarcely be fathomed. "He formed sworn brotherhood with Xuande in their youth at the Peach Garden and is a general whom even his younger brother Kongming cannot help but constantly hold in esteem." He had known even before meeting Guan Yu that no matter what tempting bait or sweet words he might use to persuade him, there was no possibility that that man would alter his principles and surrender to Wu.

However, a glimmer of hope—

"The fate of Maicheng was already sealed. With no provisions, no troops, no reinforcements from the rear—and with five hundred starving men to save—even someone as steadfast as Guan Yu might finally consider surrender. That was all there was to it."

But this too remained nothing more than Zhuge Jin’s fantasy. Before the resolute Guan Yu, he could not help but feel ashamed even at having stood as such an envoy. No matter what he argued, it was met only with scornful laughter; moreover, he was threatened with a sword by Guan Yu’s adopted son and ended up being driven away in a pitiful state—a humiliation he had to endure. “…What a waste.” “Truly…what a waste of a man.”

Nevertheless, he returned home alone, muttering to himself with deep feeling. Sun Quan, Marquis of Wu, had been waiting with evident impatience at the besiegers' main camp, but when he saw Zhuge Jin return, "What was the result?" he immediately asked in a hurried tone. "He wouldn't even listen." Zhuge Jin reported back truthfully and further, "General Guan Yu's heart is iron and stone itself. After all, attempting to entice him with the base appeals of profit and loss that sway ordinary men would not only prove futile but would merely offer our lord's noble intentions as fodder for his ridicule."

he added.

Then Lü Fan, who was at his side,

“I will divine it.”

he looked up at Sun Quan’s face. The more Lü Fan came to understand the unwavering loyalty Guan Yu held toward Shu, the clearer it became to him that his lord’s heart was consumed by a desperate wish: to avoid killing Guan Yu at all costs and instead draw him into Wu’s fold—a desire for which he seemed to be exhausting every means and strategy.

“Hmm, hmm. “Very well. Have it divined.”

Lü Fan withdrew from his lord's presence and immediately changed into ritual garments, secluding himself in a chamber containing an altar. He prayed to the spirits of Fu Xi and Shen Nong, prostrated himself for one *ke*, conducted divination three times, and obtained the hexagram of Earth over Water: The Army.

Night had already fallen, but when he returned to his lord’s presence to present the hexagram, Lü Meng—who had been playing Go with Sun Quan—

“The divination has proven true.” “The hexagram’s image shows the enemy fleeing far.” “This aligns perfectly with my own analysis.” “Guan Yu is undoubtedly scheming desperately to escape Maicheng even now.” “He will shun the main roads, aiming instead for the narrow mountain path north of the city—attempting a breakout under cover of darkness without fail.”

he said, gesturing with his palm.

Sun Quan clapped his hands and,

“Now is the time. “By setting an ambush to capture him alive in the narrow mountain path—” Sun Quan hurriedly began issuing military orders, but Lü Meng still faced the Go board, smirking to himself.

III “Now then, let us settle the current game.” “Your turn, my lord.” Across the Go board, Lü Meng urged Sun Quan to make the next move. Sun Quan was already thoroughly distracted, “This is no time for that! “We must stop this Go game and make arrangements for Maicheng’s back roads.”

At this, Lü Meng—

“There’s no need for concern. Even if Guan Yu had the means to burrow through the earth or take to the skies, the operational procedures have been so thoroughly arranged that he absolutely cannot escape from there.”

“So have ambushes already been positioned at both the castle’s rear gate and hillside sector?” “Naturally.—Now then, how will you play your next move?”

he thrust the board forward again. Sun Quan, having heard this, regained his composure and turned back to face the board to resume their game when Lü Meng suddenly— “…Right—the forces at the north gate are a bit too formidable. Could someone fetch Pan Zhang?”

He muttered to himself and commanded a warrior behind him. Immediately, Pan Zhang was summoned and arrived. Lü Meng turned around while playing Go and commanded, “At Maicheng’s north gate, three thousand attacking forces are currently deployed. However, reduce them to just seven or eight hundred weak soldiers and have all others lie in ambush in the mountains northwest of the city. Go immediately and issue these orders.” As Pan Zhang departed, once again, he said, “Summon Zhu Ran, please.”

He entrusted this to the nearby attendants, and when Zhu Ran appeared, “Add four thousand fresh cavalry and apply increasing pressure to the enemy castle’s southern, eastern, and western fronts. Then, personally lead a separate force of one thousand cavalry to patrol every corner of the northern paths and wilderness as a mobile unit,” he commanded.

Then, Lü Meng immediately rose from before the Go board, “How about that? This humble one has indeed prevailed.” “A commendable effort, my lord, but your strategies still cannot subdue Lü Meng,” he laughed cheerfully. Though the game had ended in defeat, Sun Quan joined in the booming laughter. Though defeated in Go, now that the enemy castle had but days left and capturing Guan Yu alive aligned perfectly with his divine calculations, there existed a separate great satisfaction in his heart.

In stark contrast,

The past two days within Maicheng had been truly miserable.

The five hundred soldiers had been reduced to three hundred. The number of wounded and sick increased, and deserters never ceased. When night fell, from outside the old castle, Jingzhou soldiers in Wu’s positions “Qiu! Come out!” “Li! Li! Flee here!” would come whispering in hushed voices to call out with such enticements. The temptation proved potent.

Even Guan Yu now seemed to have exhausted every stratagem. Even as he addressed Wang Fu and Zhao Lei, “This is the end. Looking back, this great defeat was brought about by none other than Guan Yu’s own lack of ability. Whether Liao Hua was killed along the way or what became of him—in any case, all hope of awaiting reinforcements has been lost,” he uttered in despair.

Even this hero of righteous courage and loyal soul, who had resounded through his age, now faced his end—Wang Fu could not hold back his tears as he spoke: “No! We cannot yet say every stratagem has been exhausted. There remains a path to survival. From recent observations, the enemy’s rear at the North Gate is thinly defended. Should you break through there and charge into the northern mountains toward Shu—why could we not repay today’s misfortune upon them? ...I shall stake my life to hold this position. I will maintain the rearguard until both this castle and I are ground to dust. Please make haste to Shu without delay.”

he urged retreat. There were no provisions left, nor any arrows or bullets. Guan Yu finally swallowed his tears and parted from Wang Fu. Thus, leaving just over a hundred men in the castle and leading fewer than two hundred soldiers, he seized the moonless darkness of night to launch a sudden sally from Maicheng’s north.

IV

Generals Guan Ping and Zhao Lei took the lead before Guan Yu, scattering the Wu soldiers near the North Gate; then their lord and retinue of two hundred cavalry charged single-mindedly toward the mountains. If they could just cross the towering peaks stretching north of Maicheng, the road would lead to Shu—and they would stand beyond Wu’s encirclement.

“Endure until we reach that point!” “Even if you encounter enemy ambushes before then, pay them no mind. Just scatter them and press onward!” Exchanging these words like a battle cry while forming a protective ring around Guan Yu, the group began ascending the pitch-black mountain path during the first watch. For a time, they met no enemies, nor was there any rustling in the vegetation to suggest hidden troops. They crossed one mountain ridge only to face another. Between them stretched a western marsh whose edges cradled a basin of darkness thick as ink. White waters gurgled below while sheer cliffs towered above—the steeds of Guan Yu and Guan Ping stumbled repeatedly over stones and tangled vines.

Then suddenly, countless flickering fires appeared from the marsh ahead. From the left mountain as well, a cluster of flaming torches rushed down. From the right peak too, and even from behind, flames converged here until they became a conflagration that scorched the heavens. “Wu soldiers!” “It’s an ambush!” By now, arrows were whistling past them like sudden rain.

Steeled by long-prepared resolve, Guan Yu adjusted his grip on the Green Dragon Crescent Blade atop his steed,

“Guan Ping, clear the path!” he said. “Father, please proceed this way!” Taking the lead, Guan Ping charged into the swarming ambush forces, cutting through them. Following this, Guan Yu too began to urge his steed forward when— “Wait, General Yu!” Then, from the flank, Wu’s General Zhu Ran called out. Guan Yu glanced back briefly but, disinclined to engage in battle, dashed onward. Zhu Ran gave chase, “I have never heard of General Yu ever showing his back to the enemy—what has brought you to do so this night?”

Zhu Ran persistently thrust his spear. “Oh! Do you wish for my blade at your neck before then?” Guan Yu wheeled his horse around and, in a single swift motion, sent the Green Dragon Crescent Blade sweeping behind him. Zhu Ran lowered his visage, focused his will, and launched a ferocious thrust, but being no match for Guan Yu from the start, he soon trembled in fear and fled.

“Do not pursue.” He had cautioned himself thus, but whether caught in the momentum of riding a tiger, he had somehow lost sight of Guan Ping’s figure, and with his small force of allies scattered in all directions, he ended up pursuing Zhu Ran until he reached the mountain’s narrow path. That place was called Linju’s narrow path—a labyrinth where even woodcutters often lost their way. Suddenly, rocks from the surrounding mountains came tumbling down, and it seemed as though even the legs of the steeds would be buried. The seven or eight retainers who had stayed close around him were all struck by rocks and crushed.

"Oh! Is this the land of the living or the underworld?" Guan Yu muttered "Damn it!" and suddenly tried to turn his horse back, but when Wu's general Pan Zhang's ambush forces threw torches to block his path front and rear—confirming Guan Yu had become isolated and was now cornered—they all at once beat drums and clanged gongs, roaring like beaters driving a beast king to summon their allies, then roared again in response. "Father! Father…!" Somewhere, Guan Ping’s voice could be heard. Guan Yu’s heart churned. Where was his son? What of Zhao Lei and the other allies?

“General Yu! General Yu!” “We’ve already taken Zhao Lei’s head as well.” “How much longer will you cling to this futile struggle?” “Cast off your helmet with dignity and entrust Heaven’s mandate to Wu!”

General Pan Zhang of Wu urged his horse forward and addressed Guan Yu. His long beard streaming in the wind, Guan Yu charged forth— “You fool!” “What could you know of true martial spirit?”

Under the Green Dragon Crescent Blade raised high, Guan Yu glared at him. Pan Zhang fled in haste without withstanding even ten exchanges. As he pursued relentlessly and closed in on the narrow path through the dense forest, hooks attached to ropes and weighted chains rained down chaotically from the giant trees on all sides. Guan Yu's steed whinnied as its legs became entangled once more. “Has Heaven’s Mandate ended here?” At that very moment, Guan Yu fell from his saddle. There, Ma Zhong—one of Pan Zhang’s subordinates—thrust out a rake and set a barbed pole, finally twisting and pinning Guan Yu down as soldiers swarmed in to bind his arms behind his back.

A horse that would not graze

1

While searching for his father’s figure, Guan Ping too was captured alive by the forces of Zhu Ran and Pan Zhang. And even as he was bound with coarse ropes and dragged toward the camp of Wu's Lord Sun Quan, he continued to cry out his father Guan Yu's name, repeating "Unforgivable! Unforgivable!" over and over.

Upon receiving the report, Sun Quan emerged from his tent at dawn the following day, had Ma Zhong bring Guan Yu before him, and gazed at him with a refreshed air as he spoke. "I have long admired you, General, and even sought to welcome your daughter into my household as my son's bride." "Why did you spurn my earnest proposal back then?"

Guan Yu remained utterly silent. Sun Quan continued speaking, "You have always considered yourself peerless under heaven—so why have you been captured by our forces today?" "I believe Heaven is instructing you to surrender to me and serve Wu."

Guan Yu quietly turned his gaze, “Cease your arrogance, green-eyed brat, purple-bearded vermin. First, hear the words of a true general.” He straightened his posture. “Liu Huangshu and I formed our brotherhood in the Peach Garden, vowing to cleanse the realm. Through a hundred battles and a hundred hardships since, we have never known doubt or betrayal—not even in our dreams. Today, having fallen into Wu’s scheme by error—even should I lose my life—beneath the Nine Springs, the Peach Garden Oath yet endures; above the Nine Heavens, Guan Yu’s spirit shall remain. Should I leave you Wu rebels undestroyed? Surrender? How utterly laughable! Strike off my head at once!”

He fell silent and did not speak again. It was as if a massive boulder had been placed before them. Sun Quan looked left and right,

“I mourn the loss of a generation’s hero.” “Is there no other way?”

he whispered. Secretary Zuo Xian advised.

“Stop this.” “Stop this.” “In ancient times, even Cao Cao—when he had this man in his grasp—held minor banquets every three days and grand banquets every five days, bestowed upon him the title of Marquis of Shouting as an honor, presented him with ten beauties to indulge his earthly desires, and day and night sought to appease him in order to keep him. Yet ultimately he did not remain under Cao Cao’s command but instead slew the generals at Five Passes and returned to Xuande’s side—is this not a precedent we have?” “……”

“With all due respect—even Cao Cao found this so.” “How could he ever take root in Wu?” “Even Cao Cao—after swallowing that bitter cup—later nursed profound regrets.” “If we do not slay him now, he will inevitably become Wu’s great scourge.” “……”

Sun Quan kept his lips sealed and breathed through his nostrils for a time, but no sooner had he risen abruptly to his feet than he shouted in a voice so thunderous it seemed to startle even himself: “Execute him!” “Execute him now! —Bring Guan Yu forth!”

The warriors gathered together and dragged Guan Yu to the camp square. And lining up his adopted son Guan Ping beside him, they struck off their heads. It was the tenth month of the 24th year of Jian'an. On this day, late autumn clouds hung low over Maicheng's plains, and a chill haze—neither quite rain nor mist—settled coldly across the land.

“I shall grant Ma Zhong the horse that Guan Yu rode,” Sun Quan declared. “Prove yourself worthy of this honor.” Guan Yu’s beloved steed was none other than Red Hare—the legendary mount renowned throughout the realm. Sun Quan bestowed this prize upon Ma Zhong, while Pan Zhang received the Green Dragon Crescent Blade that had become Guan Yu’s final relic. This revealed a common desire among all—to share in the aura of greatness. Even as enemies, Wu’s officers coveted every remnant of Guan Yu’s presence, from torn sleeve fragments to stray cords. Thus did Ma Zhong become the envy of all...

"...This is bad. What's wrong?" After four or five days, he became utterly dejected. For the Red Hare bestowed upon him had ceased to eat grass from the very day Guan Yu died. Even when they dragged it out under the autumn sun—no matter how much fragrant feed they offered or how often they led it to the water's edge—it only shook its head and whinnied mournfully toward Maicheng.

In Maicheng, over a hundred people were still holding out under siege. However, when the Wu army later pressed in, Wang Fu—having apparently already learned of Guan Yu’s death—leapt to his death from the watchtower. Zhou Cang—who was called Guan Yu's right-hand man—also cut off his own head and died in indignation.

Two

After Guan Yu's death, numerous mysterious tales were told. His military virtue and popular esteem, steeped in the lamentations of the common people who deeply mourned their loss, would in time be infused with mystery to form legends that spread through every alleyway. In any case, various rumors arose.

At Yuquan Mountain in Jingzhou, there lived an old monk named Pujing. He was originally a monk at Zhenguo Temple in Sishui Pass and was said to have known Guan Yu since their youth, serving as both his teacher and close friend.

Lately.

One moonlit night, as the monk Pujing sat alone in silent meditation within his hermitage,

“Pujing! Pujing!”

A human voice rang out from the air,

“Return my head.” “Return my head.” The words were clearly heard twice. When he looked up, Guan Yu’s face appeared vividly amidst the clouds, with Zhou Cang to his right, Guan Ping to his left, and other officers following behind. Pujing called out, “Where are you now, Guan Yu of Yunzhang?” Then the voice from the air—seeming deeply resentful—

“I fell into Lü Meng’s treacherous scheme and was slain by Wu.” “Monk, seek my head and make my spirit tremble!”

he answered.

Pujing rose and went out into the courtyard. “General, why do you not awaken to the folly of this delusion?” “Along the mountain paths and wilderness you have trodden to this day, General, are there not heaps of white bones—those who share your grievances?” “The Peach Garden oath has already concluded.” “Now close your eyes and rest peacefully in the underworld.” “Katsu!”

With that, he struck the moon with his hossu, and in an instant, Guan Yu’s shadow dissipated like mist.

However, even after that, on moonlit nights and rainy nights, there came knocking at the hermitage, “Venerable Master, impart your wisdom.”

As there were frequent reports of human voices, the villagers of Yuquan Mountain held counsel and built a shrine to console Guan Yu's spirit, so it is said.

Again.

Sun Quan of Wu held a grand banquet to reward his officers and soldiers after the Jingzhou campaign, but Lü Meng was nowhere to be seen. He sent a messenger from the banquet to Lü Meng,

“This capture of Jingzhou owes entirely to your profound stratagems and far-reaching schemes,” “Your absence leaves this lord desolate.” “I shall not touch the wine cup until your arrival,” he proclaimed. Lü Meng, humbled by these excessive praises, hastened to the banquet hall at once. Sun Quan lifted his chalice aloft,

“Zhou Yu defeated Cao Cao at Chibi but departed this world too soon. Lu Su too possessed strategies worthy of an emperor, yet never attained Jingzhou’s capture. But these two were truly exceptional men I encountered in my lifetime.” Sun Quan raised his cup higher, his voice swelling with triumph. “Yet today Jingzhou lies in my grasp—and better still, my Lü Meng stands here before me in full vigor! Nothing could bring greater joy. You surpass even Zhou Yu and Lu Su—you are Wu’s supreme treasure!” With ceremonial gravity, he pressed the wine cup into Lü Meng’s hands.

Then Lü Meng suddenly threw down the cup and glared fixedly at Sun Quan,

“Blue-eyed brat! Purple-bearded rat thief! Cease your arrogance!” With a thunderous roar, he then began unleashing a torrent of abuse. The entire assembly rose to their feet, gathered around him, and tried to lead him away, but Lü Meng—with terrifying strength—shook them off, trampled the panicking crowd beneath him, and finally seized the seat of honor. And with eyes possessed by a vengeful spirit flaring with rage, “I, who have dominated battlefields for thirty years—though I now fall to your deceit and lose my life—my spirit shall not rest until it hovers over Shu’s armies to destroy Wu! Know that I am Han’s Marquis of Shouting, Guan Yu!”

he roared. Sun Quan and all present trembled violently and fled to another pavilion. The lamp had gone out, plunging the place into darkness, but Lü Meng did not emerge. Later, when people quietly lit a lamp and went to investigate, they found Lü Meng dead, clutching his own hair in torment. This too became one of the tales circulating among the people at that time. Of course, it need hardly be said that this strayed far from truth. Yet it remained undeniable fact that Lü Meng had succumbed to illness not long after Jingzhou's occupation.

State Funeral I

I After Sun Quan shed ten thousand pecks of tears over Lü Meng’s death, posthumously bestowed upon him a noble rank, prepared his coffin and outer burial vault, and conducted an elaborate state funeral with utmost solemnity,

“Summon Lü Ba from Jianye,” Sun Quan ordered. Lü Ba was Lü Meng’s son. He was soon brought to Jingzhou by Zhang Zhao. Sun Quan gazed at the pitiable orphan and consoled him: “You may inherit your father’s position as it stands.” At that moment, Zhang Zhao inquired: “How was Guan Yu’s burial conducted afterward?” “He was beheaded and left discarded,” Sun Quan replied. “The head has been preserved through salting.”

“That must be addressed.” “A funeral?” “No—preparation for days to come. Guan Yu, Xuande, and Zhang Fei swore their oath in the Peach Garden to share life and death as brothers. When Shu learns Guan Yu has been executed, the entire state will rise to avenge him. Should Zhuge Liang’s wisdom, Zhang Fei’s valor, Ma Chao, Huang Zhong, Zhao Yun—all those fierce warriors—descend upon Wu without regard for their lives, how would Wu withstand them?”

“……” Sun Quan turned pale. It wasn’t that Sun Quan hadn’t considered this himself, but seeing how Zhang Zhao feared the impending calamity from the depths of his heart, he too could not help but confront with renewed gravity the inevitability of it all. Zhang Zhao continued.

“For Wu, there remains yet another fearsome problem.” “Shu will undoubtedly seek to approach Wei for their objective, disregarding any temporary disadvantage.” “Should Shu cede part of their territory to Cao Cao and form a Wei-Shu alliance to march south against us, Wu would suffer immediate fragmentation—never again to ride the Yangtze’s currents toward supremacy.” “...Zhang Zhao.” “How might we prevent this from ever coming to pass?”

“That is precisely why—even though he is dead—we must consider Guan Yu’s disposition with utmost gravity.” “Guan Yu’s death was fundamentally Cao Cao’s command and Cao Cao’s deed—we must pivot this calamity’s fulcrum onto Wei.” Zhang Zhao thus reasoned. “Therefore—if we have a courier bear Guan Yu’s head and convey it to Cao Cao—given he previously sent letters urging Wu to eliminate Guan Yu—he will surely commend this offering and accept it.”

“I see.” “And then Wu will vigorously proclaim throughout the realm that it was Wei who destroyed Guan Yu—as if extolling his achievements. Thus Xuande’s resentment will naturally turn toward Cao Cao of Wei, allowing Wu to stand as a third party and manage subsequent developments from that position.” When it came to devising such intricate strategies for international affairs, there truly was none other than Zhang Zhao. Sun Quan, valuing this elder statesman’s counsel, promptly selected an envoy, entrusted them with Guan Yu’s head, and dispatched them to Wei.

At that time, Cao Cao had already returned in triumph to Luoyang when he heard that an envoy from Wu had come to present Guan Yu’s head. “So he has finally become a severed head, and I live to see the day we meet here.” As he reminisced about distant past events while commending Sun Quan’s solemn attitude, he led the envoy in together with his officials to conduct a formal inspection of Guan Yu’s head.

Then, at that very gathering, “Your Majesty! Your Majesty! In your excessive joy, do not accept the great calamity Wu has sent along with this!”

Then, from among the crowd, someone bellowed. All eyes turned to seek the speaker’s face. When Cao Cao, wondering why, directed his inquiry toward him, he replied: “This is Wu’s terrifying scheme to divert calamity and redirect Shu’s resentment toward Wei. By using Guan Yu’s head to create strife between Wei and Shu and waiting for the two states to exhaust themselves in battle—there can be no doubt that this is Wu’s cunning stratagem.” He declared without hesitation. This was Sima Yi, whose style name was Zhongda.

II Wu’s profound scheme ultimately failed to beguile Wei. Wei too possessed men of penetrating insight. Sima Zhongda’s declaration had laid bare Wu’s artifice without leaving a single flaw unexposed. Cao Cao shuddered, the hairs on his body standing erect as he nodded—Zhongda’s words had truly pierced through Wu’s hidden intentions. They even debated whether to return Guan Yu’s head directly to Wu, but— “Nay—to do so would diminish Your Majesty’s magnanimity.” “First accept it for now. After discreetly sending back their envoy, you may then devise separate stratagems at leisure.”

And that too was Zhongda’s opinion. When the Wu envoy had withdrawn, Cao Cao declared a period of mourning and halted all music in Luoyang for a hundred days. And then he had Guan Yu’s body carved from aloeswood and buried it together with his head on a hillock outside Luoyang’s southern gate. The funeral rites were conducted with royal honors, and Sima Yi Zhongda himself assumed the role of chief mourner. Officials of all ranks stood in farewell, while hundreds of ceremonial riders, funeral flowers, released birds, sacrificial sheep, and oxen wound through the streets of Luoyang in a serpentine procession. And furthermore, at this grand state funeral’s ceremonial ground, an imperial envoy—specially petitioned by Cao Cao, King of Wei—stood to address Guan Yu beneath the earth,

"We bestow upon you the title of King of Jing." And even the official conferment of his posthumous rank was carried out. Wu transferred the calamity to Wei; Wei diverted the calamity and curried favor with Shu.

The war among the Three Kingdoms had now begun to scatter sparks of stratagems—both false and true—not only across carnage-strewn battlefields but also in diplomatic maneuvering and the struggle to win hearts and minds. When compared to the early campaigns of Cao Cao and Xuande’s emergence onto the stage of history, it became clear that both the execution and nature of warfare itself had now become entirely different. In other words, they could no longer afford to become intoxicated with celebratory toasts over partial victories and achievements, declaring "We have won!" Now that Shu, Wei, and Wu had entered an era where each must mobilize their total strength to decide the fate of the realm, it could be said that the configuration of this tripartite confrontation—whether they would clash one against another or shift to form alliances where two joined forces against the third—had come to see ever graver stakes placed upon guiding such international maneuvers and diplomatic warfare. Thus, even in the wars of this era, one could discern this dual nature—that behind the grand theater of major campaigns raged another war surpassing mere battle, one that ceaselessly mobilized every facet of human intellect.

Now, to go back a little in time—

In Chengdu, Liu Bei had previously taken into his harem a widow from the same clan named Lady Wu—the widow of Liu Mao—and had newly made her his consort. Lady Wu was chaste and virtuous and had a fair complexion. During the time Xuande was in Jingzhou, he had married Sun Quan’s younger sister from Wu, but after parting with this Wu sister, he had long been placed in a lonely household. Later, between him and the young consort Lady Wu, he had fathered two sons.

The elder was Liu Yong, whose style name was Gongshou. The younger was Liu Li, whose style name was Fengxiao.

Around that time――

According to an account from someone who had come from Jingzhou to Shu, “Recently, Sun Quan of Wu tried to win Guan Yu over by sending an envoy to propose taking Guan Yu’s daughter as bride for the Lord of Wu’s heir. But Guan Yu reportedly refused, declaring, ‘I won’t give my tiger’s cub to be some mutt’s bride!’” he recounted with amused exaggeration. By the time this rumor reached Kongming’s ears, it was already much later; having intuitively sensed that crisis was brewing in Jingzhou, “Unless we dispatch someone to relieve Guan Yu, Jingzhou will fall into peril.”

By the time he cautioned Liu Bei, swift horses bearing battle reports from Jingzhou had already been arriving day and night in Shu. However, since all of these were reports of victorious battles, Liu Bei was rather pleased; then, one night in the tenth month of autumn, as he leaned against his desk and dozed off, he was roused by Consort Wu, and upon suddenly recalling the dream he had just seen, he shuddered and looked around him.

Chengdu was shaken.

I

The moonlight, passing through the palace eaves, illuminated the area around Xuande’s knees. Consort Wu, noticing the candles were out, summoned maids to relight them while—

“What troubles you?” she approached Liu Bei’s side. “No—I was merely leaning against the desk, reading alone…” Xuande muttered, but as if immediately contradicting his own words, “Did you hear me groaning or something?”

he retorted. “Yes, you were groaning in your sleep.” With a smile, the consort explained that she had come to investigate what was happening because she had heard Your Lordship’s voice cry out loudly twice.

“I see. “Then I must have dozed off at some point and had a dream or something.” Liu Bei showed a smile—as though regaining his composure—to the candles. He then called Kazuko and others and spent some time enjoying himself with the consort before retiring to his bedchamber.

However, at dawn that night, he once again saw the same dream he had seen in the evening.

In the dream, there was a single streak of the moon. The ink-black cold wind stirred the clouds into ceaseless battle, and when the shrieks—indistinguishable whether from cloud-voices or wind-cries—ceased, there at the hem of the bedchamber curtain knelt a prostrate figure. Startled, within the dream, Liu Bei shouted at the figure.

Ah! Is that not my sworn brother? —Guan Yu... Guan Yu. (What brings you here at such an ungodly hour?) It was unmistakably Guan Yu's shadow, yet unlike his usual self—he did not raise his face and remained motionless, tears streaming down his countenance.—And then came a single utterance: (The Peach Garden oath has withered into fleeting memory. Elder brother, swiftly muster your armies and grant your sworn brother vengeance...)

No sooner had he spoken than he bowed silently and exited beyond the curtain like flowing water.

(Wait, wait. Brother) In his dream, Xuande chased after that shadow while shouting and ran out to the corridor of the front hall—but just then, a single streak of the moon in the sky flew like a ball and fell toward the Western Hills. With an “Ah!” he covered his face and collapsed toward it. The dream was but a dream, yet the fact remained that he had collapsed in the corridor of the front hall. That morning, Kongming had appeared at the Military Advisor’s Residence earlier than usual, but upon hearing rumors from the attendants, he immediately visited the inner palace of the King of Hanzhong.

“Your complexion seems somewhat poor. Did you not rest well last night?” “Ah, Military Advisor!” said Liu Bei, as if he had been awaiting him. “In truth, I saw the same dream twice last night and was just thinking of summoning you.” He spoke candidly. Kongming smiled. “It is because my lord constantly thinks of Guan Yu—so far away—day and night, that these so-called troubled dreams are nothing more than illusions born from your heart’s weariness. Today, it would be best if you were to move your august steps beneath the splendid autumn garden and pass the hours joyfully with the consort and young princes.”

Kongming immediately withdrew.

And when he reached the middle gate corridor, Xu Jing, the Grand Tutor, came hurrying over from afar with a changed countenance. He called out to stop him,

“Grand Tutor, is something amiss?” he asked.

Xu Jing rapidly reported. “Jingzhou has fallen—according to this morning’s urgent dispatch.”

“What?! Jingzhou—” “It is said that Guan Yu was outwitted by Wu’s Lü Meng, had Jingzhou taken from him, and fled to Maicheng.”

“Hmm.” “It is likely true.” “Nightly, when I observed the heavens, I had thought that a streak of ominous clouds seemed to drift across Jingzhou’s sky.” “I see.” “...But Grand Tutor, it would be better if we do not yet inform the King of Hanzhong of this matter.” “If he is suddenly startled, it may harm his health.”

Then, at the corner of the corridor, Xuande appeared,

“Military Advisor, do not worry so much,” Liu Bei declared from across the corridor. “I am in good health. As for Jingzhou’s fall and Guan Yu’s plight—I had already foreseen their general course and steeled myself accordingly.” At that moment, Ma Liang and Yi Ji arrived to deliver fresh reports of Jingzhou’s collapse through their own trembling lips. Then, in the afternoon’s waning light, Guan Yu’s lieutenant Liao Hua staggered into court—his tattered form resembling a beggar’s—having journeyed all the way from distant Maicheng.

II

With Liao Hua's arrival, the situation became fully clear. Xuande's expression of anguish shifted to fury from that moment onward.

For it was now that he had heard directly from Liao Hua’s own lips the truth—that despite witnessing Jingzhou’s collapse and being fully aware of Guan Yu’s dire straits, Liu Feng and Meng Da in Shangyong had obstinately refused to dispatch reinforcements even when Liao Hua went to plead for aid, choosing instead to stand idly by during this grave crisis. “What! Should my sworn brother Guan Yu be left to die? Detestable wretches—Liu Feng and Meng Da!” “They must absolutely be punished.”

He ordered the three armies, declaring his intent to personally take the field, and also sent directives to Zhang Fei in Langzhong,

“An emergency has occurred. Come at once!” he declared, dispatching a fast horse. Kongming did his utmost to soothe his grief and fury. “First, I beseech you to calm your heart,” he urged. “I will personally lead a force and rescue the isolated Guan Yu without fail. As for the disposition of Lord Liu Feng, Meng Da, and others—I believe it would be appropriate to postpone this matter.” Before long, Zhang Fei too had rushed to join them. Shu’s soldiers and horses poured into Chengdu one after another. Over those two or three days, dense clouds over the Three Gorges swelled with wind, lending an ominously heavy air to the already fraught moment—when at last, through the final fast horse, grievous news that would plunge the entire nation into despair was delivered at Shu’s palace gates.

(One night, Guan Yu's army left Maicheng attempting to flee to Shu, but at a place called Linju along the way, they were finally captured by a man named Ma Zhong—a subordinate of Wu's general Pan Zhang. And on that very day, within the Wu camp, both father and son had their noble heads struck from their bodies, thus meeting an inglorious end.) Such was the report. Upon hearing that—though he had long steeled himself for this moment—Liu Bei let out a stunned cry.

"Ah! So Guan Yu is finally no longer of this world!" With that, he wailed so violently that he collapsed, and for three days thereafter, he neither ate nor met with his subjects. However, Kongming alone forced his way into the tent and admonished Xuande—who lay wailing like a woman—with a gaze as stern as a rebuke. “Life and death are fated; wealth and honor reside with Heaven. If the Oath of the Peach Garden was a vow, then are not death and parting natural terms of that covenant? If even you, my lord, were to harm your health, what are we to do?”

“Military Advisor, go ahead and laugh at me.” “Though I know it is unmanly, I cannot help this common sentiment.” “I can well imagine your grief. Yet it is strange that there is no sign of your resentment despite such sorrow.” “It is precisely because there is no outlet for my resentment that I avoid meeting people—so why does the Military Advisor level such reproach?” “Behold! I swear I shall not share the same sky with Wu—I will not rest until I deliver this retribution upon them!” “If you have truly fixed that resolve in your heart, then surely this is no season to endlessly mimic the tears of women.” “Since then, one after another—and again this morning—fast horses have brought new reports to the palace. However, because you have closed your tent and secluded yourself so deeply, the intelligence officers have no means to present them before you, and they are all at a loss.”

“My bad.” “I will change my ways.”

“According to this morning’s intelligence, Wu has sent Guan Yu’s head to Wei, and Wei has conducted a state funeral for it with royal rites.” “What is Wu’s intention?” “Fearing our Shu’s resentment—shifting the calamity to Wei—it is a scheme to turn Shu’s Spears toward Wei.” “Who could possibly fall for such deceit? I will swiftly take the field—and then I will subjugate Wu and console Guan Yu’s spirit.” “That is most unwise.”

“Why? You who just scolded my tears as womanly now speak such words—is this not a contradiction?” “We must bide our time. If Lord Guan Yu were still alive, no sacrifice would be too great—but now that he is gone, further agitation serves no purpose. For the time being, we must withdraw our forces and quietly observe the shifting tides. Only when some discord brews between Wu and Wei—when conflict erupts between them—should Shu finally rise. Until then, I pray you keep your resentment tucked away in your heart…”

On this day, in the name of the King of Hanzhong, a period of mourning was declared throughout Shu. At the south gate of Chengdu Palace, an altar to honor Guan Yu was erected, and throughout the snow-laden winter, mourning banners stood frozen in the bitter sky.

Pear Tree

I

During his days on the battlefield, even Cao Cao—who had paid no heed to his age—found his days increasingly filled with complaints about his body—aches here, pains there—after returning in triumph and lingering in idle comfort while indulging in splendor and luxury. Alas, he was already sixty-five years old this year. It was natural that his body no longer obeyed him, yet he himself did not seem to think so. He would sometimes grow troubled, muttering things like: “This recent inability to prevail… Could it be Guan Yu’s spirit haunting me?”

One day, the courtiers said, "This Luoyang temporary palace—as the buildings have grown quite aged—has seen frequent supernatural occurrences." "As they say, 'A change of residence refreshes the spirit.' How would it be if Your Majesty were to have a new palace built?"

they urged. Even before this, Cao Cao had long harbored a desire to construct a grand hall to be named Jian Shi Hall, but he had not yet found craftsmen of sufficient skill. When one of his attendants raised this matter again, “In Luoyang there is a master architect named Su Yue,” “This design will surely meet your approval.” they said. Cao Cao ordered Jia Xu to immediately convey instructions to Su Yue. After being summoned, Su Yue submitted blueprints through Jia Xu. When Cao Cao examined them, he appeared greatly pleased with the conception—a nine-bay great hall at the center linking south and north towers, with Jian Shi Hall positioned at the rear.

However, he thought such long ridgepoles likely didn’t exist for the nine-bay great hall, so he summoned Su Yue,

“Your design is truly excellent, but there’s no use in it being well-drawn alone,” he said. “Where do you expect to find such enormous timber?” he demanded.

Su Yue replied. "Thirty li from Luoyang, at the abyss of Yaolongtan, there is a shrine. The pear tree there stands over thirty meters tall—a sacred tree that has endured for millennia. How about cutting this down and using it as the ridgepole?"

“What? The pear tree?” “That’s remarkable.” “It will become a structure without equal in all the land.” Even in old age, his penchant for the extraordinary remained undiminished. Cao Cao immediately sent a large contingent to fell it. Yet the sacred tree’s trunk resisted both saw and axe—after days of effort, no timber had arrived.

Cao Cao heard of this and concluded that it must be because the laborers were terrified by the legend that it was a sacred tree of the shrine. He ordered, “Prepare the carriage—I myself will go there to dispel their superstitious ignorance,” and abruptly departed to Yaolongtan with an entourage of several hundred horsemen. Alighting from the carriage, he looked up at the pear tree; its crown brushed the clouds while roots coiled like a hundred dragons through the abyss. Cao Cao approached the base of the tree. “Under all heaven, none may bring harm upon me! Now I shall cut you down to become Jian Shi Hall’s ridgepole. If you harbor a spirit, rejoice—this act shall grant you divine favor for ages to come!”

He drew his sword and, with a swift motion, struck a single blow against the pear tree's trunk. Then, the local elders and priests who had been watching all let out a cry of “Ah!” and wailed. As their voices rose, the pear tree trembled violently, scattering its leaves as its trunk gushed forth sap like blood. “This king has already struck the first blow with his axe. If the tree spirit seeks vengeance, it will curse Cao Cao. You need not fear any longer—cut it down.”

He gave those instructions to the craftsman Su Yue and the laborers, then immediately returned to Luoyang. However, when he alighted from the carriage at the palace gate, his complexion had already turned abnormal. Muttering that he felt slightly unwell, he immediately entered his bedchamber. Shortly after, the court physician hurriedly retreated from there,

"The fever runs high," he remarked with a frown as he headed into the medicine chamber.

From time to time, delirious utterances leaked through the bedchamber curtains. Each time this happened, courtiers would rush in to observe by the pillow, and Cao Cao would raise his eyes, "Where has the pear tree spirit gone?" he demanded, looking around fiercely.

When the courtiers said there was no such being, Cao Cao shook his head vehemently,

"No—a supernatural deity clad in pure white robes declared itself the spirit of the pear tree and repeatedly pressed against this king’s chest." "Search for it!" he insisted stubbornly and would not yield.

II

The next day found Cao Cao still complaining of a headache. At times, he would mutter about the pear tree spirit, just as he had the night before.

The court physicians tried every medicine and remedy, but the patient’s suffering did not diminish in the slightest. As days passed, gaunt emaciation became visible on Cao Cao’s face, like aged plaster flaking from an ancient mural.

Unusually, this morning he seemed to feel somewhat better, and Cao Cao was engaged in conversation with Hua Xin, who had come to visit him. Hua Xin "If Your Majesty deems that even the hundred stratagems of the court physicians have proven ineffective, why not summon Hua Tuo, who I hear now resides in Jincheng?" "Hua Tuo is the greatest physician in the land." and had been persistently urging. The patient was persuaded,

“I had long known of the renowned physician Hua Tuo by reputation.” “He hails from Qiao Commandery in Pei State—the same man who once treated Zhou Tai of Wu, is he not?”

“You are most well-informed.” “He is precisely as Your Majesty describes—it is said there exists no patient under his treatment who fails to recover.” “Even those gravely ill with rotting organs would, upon drinking his numbing decoction, fall into a deathlike coma within moments. Then he would take up a blade, open their abdomen, wash the organs with medicinal solutions, swiftly restore them to their proper place, and stitch the wound with thread—cases exist where full recovery was achieved in under twenty days.”

“Hmm… So he resorts to such brutal methods?”

“No, no—it is said that during the procedure, the patient feels no pain whatsoever.” “I have also heard of another example like this.” “The wife of the Chancellor of Ganling—when she was six months pregnant—suddenly developed severe abdominal pain and endured three days and nights of agony, during which Hua Tuo examined her.” When Hua Tuo checked her pulse, he immediately exclaimed, “Ah, what a pity! Though the child she carried was indeed a boy, he had already perished in the womb due to food poisoning.” “Concluding that the mother’s life would be in peril if left untreated, he prepared a medicinal concoction and administered it to the patient. Indeed, the male fetus was expelled, and after seven days, the wife reportedly returned to her former health.”

“If his methods are truly so miraculous, let us summon him.” “See to it immediately.” The patient commanded thus, his eyes shining with hope. Hua Xin promptly dispatched messengers and, leveraging the King of Wei’s name and authority, summoned Hua Tuo from the distant land of Jincheng to Luoyang with all haste, traveling day and night. Upon arriving, Hua Tuo ascended to the palace that very day and attended to Cao Cao in his sickroom. And he carefully examined the eyelids and pulse, “This is undoubtedly a case of wind-stagnation illness,” he diagnosed.

Cao Cao nodded and, “That must be it. My chronic illness—what they call migraines—when an attack strikes, my head aches unbearably, and I’m often unable to eat or drink for days. Since I’ve gone to the trouble of having a renowned physician come here, surely there must be some way to permanently cure this chronic condition?” “Indeed…” Hua Tuo made a slightly troubled face and fell deep into thought, but after a short while, “It is not impossible. However, it requires an extremely difficult surgery. The root of your chronic ailment lies within your brain, so even if you take medicine, ultimately it will have no effect on the disease. The sole method is to drink the mafei decoction, enter a deathlike state where consciousness and perception are utterly lost, then dissect the brain and excise the root of the wind-stagnation ailment. In that case, there is an eight or nine out of ten chance it may be completely cured.”

“What happens if even one in ten of these surgeries goes wrong?” “With all due respect, Your Majesty must resign yourself to the dictates of your lifespan.” Cao Cao burst into rage,

“You quack!” “Do you mean to make my life your scalpel’s testing ground?”

“Ha ha ha ha. I have full confidence, but I deliberately spoke with humility. When Lord Guan Yu of Jingzhou suffered from a poisoned arrow wound in the past, this physician went to treat him—cutting open his arm, scraping the bone, and removing every trace of the poison—until he was fully healed. Why does Your Majesty fear such a surgery and doubt Hua Tuo’s medical skill?” “Silence! Can you equate an arm with a brain? Aha! So you are one closely tied to Guan Yu! I perceive it now—you seized upon my illness as the perfect opportunity to draw near and avenge his death! Guards! Guards! Seize this villain and throw him into prison!”

The patient jolted upright and, like a wrathful deity, pointed and cursed.

Cao Cao dies.

One

Though he had met a renowned physician, he did not receive the renowned physician's treatment. Not only did he doubt Hua Tuo's words, but he cast him into prison as well. This could only be an omen that Cao Cao's natural lifespan had reached its end there.

However, Warden Wu Yayu, pitying Hua Tuo’s undeserved plight, provided him with bedding and meals. Even when ordered to subject him to torture, he covertly shielded Hua Tuo, submitting only perfunctory reports.

Hua Tuo deeply felt gratitude for this kindness and, one day when no one was around,

“Warden Wu,” Hua Tuo said, tears falling down his face. “Your kindness moves me, but should your superiors discover this, you would be dismissed at once. I am already aged. I have come to understand my remaining days are few. Please... cease these gestures from now on.” “No, no—were you truly guilty, I would never shield you,” the warden replied. “But since my days in Wu, I have held deep admiration for your character and divine skill. I beg you not to trouble yourself with such concerns.”

“So you are from Wu?” “Yes. My surname is also Wu. In my youth, I loved medicine and studied as a doctor’s apprentice, but ultimately failed to achieve my aspirations in that field and ended up becoming a judicial official.”

“...Hmm, I see.” “Then, as partial repayment for your kindness, I will bestow upon you the medical texts I have kept secret at home as treasured writings.” “After I’m gone, thoroughly master their divine efficacy and use it to save the world’s sick.”

“What?!” “Doctor, is that true?”

"I will now write a letter addressed to my family in my hometown. Go to my house in Jincheng and retrieve those medical texts." "I have mentioned them in the letter—they are called the Blue Bag Texts, hidden deep within the library, works I have never shown another soul to this day." Hua Tuo wrote a letter addressed to his family back home. He handed it to Warden Wu Yayu, but just then came news that Cao Cao's condition had turned critical. With palace gates and government offices thrown into busy tension, the warden kept Hua Tuo's letter closely concealed on his person, letting more than ten days slip by.

Then, one early dawn, seven warriors suddenly came clamoring into the prison office, swords in hand, “By order of the King of Wei. Open up here!”

Ordering the jailers to open the cell door where Hua Tuo was held, they had no sooner leaped inside than a groan resounded all the way outside. By the time Warden Wu Yaju arrived to investigate, the seven men carrying bloodstained swords were calmly making their way back. The warriors looked back at his figure, “Warden Wu Yaju! By order of the King of Wei, we have just executed Hua Tuo. That wretch kept appearing in His Majesty’s dreams night after night—we were commanded to come and cut him down.” With that, they walked away.

Warden Wu Yaju resigned from his post and departed for Jincheng that very day. And he visited Hua Tuo’s house, delivered the letter, requested the Blue Bag Texts, and returned to his hometown.

“I’m quitting my job as a warden. From now on, I’ll make my living as a doctor.” “What’s more—I’ll become the greatest doctor in all the land!”

After a long time, he drank sake, spoke to his wife, and slept in his own home that night.

The next morning, when he glanced at the garden, his wife was gathering fallen leaves in the yard and making a bonfire. Warden Wu Yaju gasped in shock, "You fool! What are you doing?"

With that, he stomped out the bonfire and shouted, but the Blue Bag Texts had already turned to ash along with the fire of fallen leaves.

His wife retorted as coldly as ashes to her husband, who had turned livid with rage.

“Even if you were to become the most celebrated physician in the realm, if you were arrested over this affair and hauled off to prison, would that not nullify everything?” “I burned those cursed texts.” “Scold me all you like—it matters not.” “As your wife, I cannot bear to watch my husband perish in a cell.” Thus Hua Tuo’s Blue Bag Texts were ultimately lost to posterity. And as this transpired, Cao Cao’s condition grew graver still, while Luoyang’s skies welcomed a desolate winter beneath sorrow-laden clouds.

II

At the beginning of winter, Cao Cao had been reported to be critically ill once, but when December arrived, his condition began to recover again.

A mourning delegation from Sun Quan of Wu entered the country. Within the letter, Wu wrote of itself as "your subject, Sun Quan", (If Wei were to attack Shu, your subject’s army would immediately invade the Two Rivers and strive loyally as one wing of Your Majesty’s forces.)

thus displaying obsequiousness. Cao Cao sneered from his sickbed, "That young upstart Sun Quan schemes to make me retrieve chestnuts from the fire." he muttered. Observing the signs that the aged dragon was finally about to retreat into the abyss, among certain schemers within the Han court—court officials, Palace Attendants, Imperial Secretaries, and others in such positions—a movement to elevate Cao Cao to the position of Great Emperor of Wei by this autumn, abolish the Han dynasty which had become virtually nonexistent, and thereby secure their shared glory was quietly advancing.

But Cao Cao—

“I need only be King Wen of Zhou,” he stated merely, never declaring that he himself would assume the imperial throne. Yet to those who discerned his unspoken implications, it seemed sufficiently clear that his intent lay in having his son ascend to sovereignty while he himself would find satisfaction in being revered as the founding ancestor of successive dynasties. On another occasion, Sima Yi quietly attended at his bedside and proposed: “Since the Wu envoy has taken pains to come here—declaring themselves subjects and bowing to Wei’s authority—would it not be an excellent strategy at this juncture to bestow some favor upon Sun Quan and proclaim it throughout the land?”

he offered a remark for what lay ahead. Cao Cao nodded deeply and, “Yes, yes. You’ve perceived well.” “This king will bestow upon Sun Quan the seals of General of Agile Cavalry and Marquis of Nanchang.” “And announce that he is to be appointed Governor of Jingzhou.” With this, he ordered the procedures to be carried out.

That night, he had a dream. He saw three horses thrusting their heads into a single feeding trough, scrambling to devour the fodder. When he told Jia Xu of this in the morning, Jia Xu laughed and,

“Isn’t a dream about horses an auspicious one? Therefore, when one sees a dream about horses, the common folk even hold celebrations!” With these words, he tried to cheer up the patient who was constantly fretting. Who could have known? Later, there were those who interpreted this single dream as a portent—that the Sima clan would soon supplant the Cao family and seize the realm. From mid-December, when frozen winter clouds hung heavy, Cao Cao’s condition once again took a turn for the worse. Even a hero of his generation could not overcome illness. He was ceaselessly tormented by nightmares day and night. It was said that at times he heard a rumbling as if to shake and crumble all the palace buildings of Luoyang. And each time, it was said that from the surging black clouds would emerge the Han dynasty’s Empress Fu, Consort Dong, and the clan of Imperial Uncle Dong Cheng—all whom had met wretched ends under his command—ethereally waving bloodstained white banners. Then, from within the clouds, metal drums would sound and battle cries rise, only to shift abruptly into tens of thousands of men and women laughing in unison before vanishing instantly.

“All of this is the work of evil spirits. How about gathering Taoist priests from across the land and ordering them to perform purification rites?”

When the courtier said this, Cao Cao forced a bitter smile and, “Even if I were to spend a thousand gold pieces daily, if it is Heaven’s will, I could not purchase even a single day of life. Moreover, were it heard that a hero facing death had Taoist priests perform purification rites, it would become the world’s laughingstock. Useless! Useless!”

Having dismissed [the suggestion], he then summoned all his senior ministers to his bedside,

"This king has four sons, but none can truly be called exceptional talents. "What I have observed of them, I have already shared with you all in ordinary times. "You must fully grasp my intent—continue your loyal service, and establish my eldest son Cao Pi to secure lasting governance, just as you have served me. "Is this clear?" Having solemnly declared this, Cao Cao seemed to survey his sixty-six years in a single moment. Tears like rain wet his cheeks as he drew his final breath amidst the choked sobs of his clan and ministers—suddenly gone. It was late in the first month of spring during Jian'an's twenty-fifth year. Hailstones as large as rocks fell upon Luoyang's streets below.

Martial Ancestor

I

Cao Cao’s death momentarily plunged the realm’s springtime into darkness. Not only in Wei alone but also in the hearts of Shu and Wu’s people, it silently compelled them to deeply reflect—as if realizing it anew—that all humans ultimately exist under an inescapable Mandate of Heaven, regardless of who they might be.

“Once he becomes one of the departed, you truly see his greatness.” “A man like him likely won’t appear even once in a hundred years—who knows if even once in a thousand?”

“He had many shortcomings, but he also had many strengths. If Cao Cao had not appeared, history would not have turned out this way. By any measure, he was a man of destiny unlike any since the dawn of history. He was a resplendent villainous hero. With him gone, desolation cannot be absent.”

For some time now, whenever the people of Luoyang gathered, they mourned Cao Cao’s death, shared anecdotes about him, evaluated his character, and reminisced about his life at every opportunity. He claimed to be a descendant of Cao Shen, Chancellor of Han—a proclamation Cao Cao himself had made—though the facts appeared quite different. His adoptive grandfather Cao Teng served as a Palace Attendant of the Han dynasty, making him a eunuch who naturally had no children of his own. Moreover, his father Song had been adopted from another family; in any case, their lineage seemed far from distinguished.

When Cao Cao was fighting Yuan Shao, Chen Lin—who had drafted a manifesto for Yuan Shao—pointedly referred to him within its text as: "the vile remnant of treacherous eunuch stock." One could see this struck his sore spot. From his youth, he had carried a scholar's pack to study in Luoyang. Even after graduating from the imperial academy, he led a dissolute life of chivalrous recklessness. Later becoming a guard at the palace gates after years of meager pay, he wore his one decent official uniform crawling with lice while spouting grandiose claims. It was little wonder nobody took him seriously. During that era, Zijiang—who had glimpsed him—

“You are a capable servant in times of order and a cunning usurper in times of chaos.”

That concise pronouncement was indeed a famous dictum that perfectly encapsulated Cao Cao’s character and life. At that time, Cao Cao too—when faced with Zijiang’s assessment—reportedly answered, “That is my true aspiration,” before departing. This left no doubt that even in those days, within the breast of this meagerly paid young clerk already smoldered a solitary resolve kindled while contemplating the realm’s storm-wracked skies. When synthesizing ancient textual accounts of his bearing and tastes, he was neither corpulent like Liu Bei nor endowed with Sun Quan’s elongated torso and stunted legs. Slender and tall—as recorded in the *Cao Man Zhuan*—

――Frivolous yet lacking dignity, he enjoyed music and kept entertainers by his side. Clad in light silks, he habitually carried a small pouch containing a handkerchief and trinkets. When conversing, he frequently engaged in teasing and jesting; when overcome with laughter, he would sink his head into his desk with such vigor that one might think he would blow away the dishes on the table. Generally, one could imagine his daily life from this, and as evidence that he was skinny, in the account found in *Heroes’ Biography*, when Lü Bu was captured and brought before Cao Cao, Lü Bu―

“Lord.” “Why so thin?” In response to this mockery, Cao Cao immediately retorted, “Quelling chaos and restoring order.” “My leanness exists solely for the sake of state affairs.” One could see that his response amounted to boasting about his thinness. At night he read the Confucian classics; at dawn he composed poetry. He voraciously studied diverse texts, founded an academy for his hometown’s scholars, established a grand library within his domain, collected military treatises from all eras, and even authored works himself—proving he was never merely a warrior.

What remained lamentable for Cao Cao was how his villainous-heroic character led him in his twilight years to turn a deaf ear to the wise counsel of loyal ministers—ultimately usurping the title of King of Wei and overreaching to covet even the Han dynasty’s imperial throne. The grand banner of “Revere the Court, Save the People”—which he had touted as his secret principle when confronting warlords in every battle since youth—proved in truth to be nothing but a falsehood for seizing hegemony, a deception he himself exposed when it mattered most in his twilight years.—“Do even heroes revert to folly with age?” lamented the good ministers who had once sighed and spoken frankly; now, many of them had departed to the underworld.

Thus, Wei entered the era of its next generation under the young Cao Pi. Cao Pi was in Yedu Castle at the time of his father’s death. And on the day when the grand funeral procession that had departed Luoyang finally arrived there, he let out a wail of grief and prostrated himself before it at the city gate outside the walls.

II Cao Pi was the eldest son of the Cao family. Now, having welcomed his father’s coffin into the Wei royal palace in Yedu, what bewilderment and grief must he have harbored? A child who had too great a father and was left with too immense a legacy must have been at a loss for a time, overwhelmed by both familial grief and helplessness. Above the Wei palace, clouds hung heavy with sorrow; within its halls, incense smoke failed to herald dawn as rites continued day and night—the sound of wailing trembled with overwhelming force. The description in a certain ancient text was likely not entirely exaggerated.

At that time, Sima Fu, who was in attendance,

“Your Highness, this is no time to wallow in idle grief,” he said. “And why do the high ministers around you not encourage Your Highness to swiftly establish policies for governing the state through ten thousand generations and calm the people’s hearts?” He rebuked them as if declaring, “You spineless individuals!” The high ministers answered, “We are well aware of such matters even without your reminder, but above all else, we must first enthrone the Crown Prince to the position of King of Wei. However, no matter how we try, the imperial edict permitting this has yet to be issued by the court.”

Then Minister of War Chen Jiao stepped forward again, suddenly raising his voice: "Ah! As ever, the high ministers' indecisiveness—your words are maddening to hear." "A state cannot endure even a day without its ruler." "Now that the King of Wei has passed and the Crown Prince stands by his coffin—even should the imperial edict be delayed—who among you would dare oppose enthroning him immediately? If any here deem this improper and would obstruct it, let them step forward now and declare their name before me!"

Chen Jiao brandished his sword and glared around.

The high ministers all stared in astonishment, and not a single one uttered so much as a word of argument.

At that very moment, Hua Xin—one of the trusted aides of the late Cao Cao—came galloping on a swift horse from Xuchang. At the announcement that Hua Xin had arrived, everyone’s faces turned pale, "What crisis has erupted now?" they wondered, holding their breath even tighter. Upon arriving, Hua Xin first bowed deeply at the late lord’s altar, performed a hundredfold obeisance to Crown Prince Cao Pi, then surveyed the assembled ministers filling the hall.

“News of the King of Wei’s passing has spread throughout the realm. The people tremble in grief and wail as though deprived of heaven’s sun—they cannot even attend to their duties.” “You—who have feasted on high stipends for years—what in blazes are you dithering about in idle bewilderment at this critical hour?” “Why have you not enthroned the Crown Prince with utmost haste, proclaimed a new governance, and shown Wei’s imperishable might to all under heaven?” He rebuked them. The ministers answered in unison, explaining that they had already discussed the matter but were holding back as no edict had yet come from the Han court.

Then Hua Xin sneered, "The Han court now lacks any competent courtiers, and Xudu has long lost even its capacity to conduct governance—yet you sit idly by waiting for an imperial edict? How long do you think that would take?" “Therefore, I personally compelled the Han court, petitioned the Emperor, and have here secured an imperial edict.”

Then, Hua Xin took out an imperial edict from his breast pocket and presented it before the assembly, “Attend respectfully.”

he read aloud in a resounding voice. The text of the imperial edict extolled the great achievements of King Cao Cao of Wei and commanded his heir Cao Pi to succeed to his father’s royal throne—clearly dated to the second month of spring in the twenty-fifth year of Jian'an. The senior ministers and all those present relaxed their brows in delight. Of course, this was undoubtedly not the Han Emperor’s true intention. However, sensing the prevailing mood, Hua Xin—who sought to firmly establish his personal authority within Wei at this juncture—had pressured and forcibly extracted it from the court in Xuchang.

But the formal justification had been secured. The formalities had been arranged. There, Cao Pi ascended to the position of King of Wei, received the homage of all officials, and simultaneously proclaimed the fact to the realm.

At that time, a lone courier’s steed brought news: “Lord Cao Zhang, Marquis of Yanling, approaches from Chang’an leading a hundred thousand troops himself.” Cao Pi grew deeply suspicious. “What? My brother?” he exclaimed, fearing him terribly even before their meeting. Cao Zhang was Cao Cao’s second son and preeminent in martial prowess among the brothers. Convinced this move aimed to contest the throne, Cao Pi—harboring baseless suspicions—began anxiously devising countermeasures.

Three

The Cao family had four biological sons.

During his lifetime, Cao Cao had doted most on his third son Cao Zhi; however, Zhi’s delicate physique and overly refined cultural sensibilities meant that while cherished, (He is not of the caliber to inherit my legacy.) he had long observed. The fourth son, Cao Xiong, was chronically ill, and the second son, Cao Zhang, though valiant, lacked talent for governance. Thus, he had deemed only his eldest son, Cao Pi, worthy to entrust with his legacy. Cao Pi, even through his father’s eyes, was seen as sincere and humble, with something of what common parlance calls the dutiful eldest son about him. However, it had been conveyed in his final instructions to the senior ministers that as long as he could secure capable ministers to assist him, the Cao family’s future would surely flourish.

However, regarding the matter of royal succession, there had long been an unspoken assumption among the brothers that he himself was the intended heir. Moreover, overt power struggles had existed among the tutors and advisors attached to each of the late king’s sons. Thus, when Cao Pi heard that Cao Zhang—the most hot-tempered of his brothers—was now approaching from Chang’an at the head of a hundred thousand troops, he could not have felt at ease. “Your Majesty need not worry,” said Jia Kui. “I have thoroughly grasped that person’s disposition. First, I shall go myself and ascertain his true intentions.”

Having said this, Remonstrance Counselor Jia Kui—who had comforted him—hurried out beyond the gates of Wei City. When he went to welcome Cao Zhang, Cao Zhang immediately demanded upon seeing him: “Where have you taken the late lord’s seals and ribbons?”

Jia Kui composed his expression and answered.

“In a household there exists an eldest son; in a state there exists a crown prince. The late lord’s seals and ribbons naturally reside where they ought to reside.” “By what justification do you presume to investigate this matter?” Cao Zhang fell silent. As they advanced to the palace gate, Jia Kui drove home another nail of protocol there.

“Have you come here today to observe mourning for your late father, or to contest the throne? Furthermore, do you intend to be a paragon of loyalty and filial piety, or do you choose to become a traitorous son?”

Cao Zhang exclaimed indignantly. "How could I harbor treacherous intentions?!" "I came to conduct my father's funeral." "In that case," came the retort, "you need not enter with a hundred thousand soldiers." "Withdraw them all from this place." Thus Cao Zhang entered the palace gate alone. When he met his elder brother Cao Pi, they clasped hands and wept over their father's death.

From the day Cao Pi succeeded to the throne as King of Wei, the era name was changed, and the twenty-fifth year of Jian'an became known as the first year of Yan Kang beginning in the spring of that same year.

Hua Xin became Chancellor due to his merits, Jia Xu was enfeoffed as Grand Commandant, and Wang Lang was promoted to Imperial Censor. Rewards were issued to all officials and military officers, both high and low, and on the day Cao Cao’s grand funeral concluded, a special envoy stood at his Gaoling mausoleum,

From that time onward, he was posthumously honored with the title Emperor Wu. They conducted a ceremonial report.

Now, After all funeral arrangements had been completed, Chancellor Hua Xin appeared before Cao Pi one day and said: "Regarding your younger brother Lord Zhang—since he has already handed over all one hundred thousand troops he brought with him to Wei City and returned to Chang'an—there remains no immediate cause for suspicion toward him. However, the third son Lord Zhi and the fourth son Lord Xiong have neither attended their father's funeral nor offered congratulations on your accession." "Therefore, it was necessary for Your Highness to issue an edict and punish their crimes." "You should not leave this matter uninvestigated."

Cao Pi, following these words, immediately issued an edict and dispatched envoys to each of his two younger brothers to proclaim their crimes.

The envoy who had gone to Cao Xiong’s place returned and tearfully reported. “He had always been in poor health, which may have been why, but when I delivered the indictment, that very night he pitifully took his own life by hanging himself.” Cao Pi deeply regretted this, but as the matter could not be helped, he had him buried with reverence. Before long, the envoy who had gone to the third son Cao Zhi also returned, but this envoy’s report, contrary to the previous one, greatly angered Cao Pi.

The Seven Steps Poem

I The reason Cao Pi was so enraged was as follows.

What follows is the account of the envoy who had carried the edict and returned from Cao Zhi’s residence. “On the day I arrived—just as rumored—Lord Linzi Cao Zhi was holding a banquet that had begun the previous night with his favored ministers Ding Yi and Ding Yu in attendance.” “Even setting that aside, upon hearing that I was an envoy bearing an edict from His elder brother the King of Wei, he should have rinsed his mouth, purified his seat, and received me with reverence. Yet he neither rose from his place nor cleared the cups and plates, forcing me to pass through their disorderly midst—and then his vassal Ding Yi addressed this envoy from the outset with: ‘You! Do not wag your tongue recklessly!’” “In the first place, during our late king’s lifetime, there had already been a clear instance where he declared his intention to establish our lord Cao Zhi as crown prince.” “Yet thwarted by slanderers’ words, he ultimately passed without fulfilling that intention. But before his grand funeral had even concluded—to send an envoy of condemnation against our lord Cao Zhi? What manner of action is this?” “Is Lord Cao Pi truly such a tyrant?” “...Does he not have even a single capable minister at his side...?” “...and they proceeded to heap every possible insult upon him.” Then another vassal named Ding Yu joined in unison: “Do you not know—you—that our lord Cao Zhi surpasses all in scholarly virtue? His poetic talent overflows—when he takes up his brush, he instantly composes masterpieces, crafting jewels of literature.” “Moreover, he is naturally endowed with the bearing of a king.” “He differs in natural endowment from Cao Pi, whom you serve.” “And you court officials—all fools with ordinary vision! How could you possibly distinguish a wise ruler from a tyrant?...” Since they began berating me from the outset in this overbearing manner, leaving no room for rebuttal, I had no choice but to deliver the edict and retreat in disarray—such was the situation.”

Thus, Cao Pi’s momentary wrath finally took form as brothers contending at the wall.

Having received his stern command, Xu Chu immediately led over three thousand elite soldiers and stormed Cao Zhi’s stronghold at Linzi. “We are the royal army!” “This is the edict-bearing army!” Xu Chu’s officers and soldiers shouted as they trampled and stabbed the gate guards from all directions, granting them no chance to resist or fight back before forcing their way into the hall. They captured everyone—beginning with Ding Yi and Ding Yu, who had been feasting yet again that very day—along with Lord Zhi himself. Loading them onto carriages, they swiftly returned to Wei City in Ye.

With flames of hatred burning across his face, Cao Pi made the group kneel at the foot of the stairs. Without granting them even a glance— “First, execute those two.” Cao Pi commanded Xu Chu. Beneath the glint of a sword, two heads rolled carelessly. The steps and railings glowed vermilion; the ground became a spring of crimson.

At that moment, hurried footsteps echoed behind Cao Pi, and a soul-rending sob from an old woman clung to his feet. Cao Zhi—who had been devastated amidst the bloodbath as two retainers were beheaded before his eyes—looked up with his pallid face and suddenly saw that this was Lady Bian, the birth mother who had borne him and his brothers. “Ah... my Mother!” Zhi instinctively stretched up and reached out his hands like a begging infant; the old mother glared fiercely with tearful eyes and—

“Zhi... Why didn’t you attend the grand funeral of the late king?” “There is no one as unfilial as you!”

She severely scolded him, and without letting go of Cao Pi’s robe,

“Pi! Pi! Just listen to me for a moment—I beg you, for the sake of my afterlife! This is my lifelong plea!” Forcibly pulling her son along, she led him to the shadow of a side hall and pleaded with Cao Pi through tear-drenched sobs that threatened to blind her aged eyes—begging him by the bond of brotherhood to spare Zhi’s life. “Now, now… You mustn’t grieze so deeply,” he said. “I never had any intention of killing my brother from the start. It was merely to discipline him.”

Cao Pi secluded himself deep within the inner quarters and did not appear even at morning court sessions for several days. Hua Xin quietly came and inquired about his mood. Then, seizing the opportunity in their conversation: "The other day, Lady Bian must have said something to you—did she not express her will that 'You must not depose Cao Zhi'?" "Where did you hear that, Chancellor?" "No, I would never engage in eavesdropping, but such a matter is perfectly clear." "However, as for Your Majesty's decision—what exactly it may be—that remains unclear to me."

II Hua Xin went on speaking. “Your younger brother’s talent is so extraordinary—if left unchecked, those around him will elevate him as a dragon lurking in the pond.” “If you do not eliminate him now, it will become a great calamity later!”

“But... I’ve already made a promise to Mother.” “What exactly did you promise?” “That I would never do such a thing as deposing my brother Cao Zhi...” “Why would you make such a vow?” Hua Xin clicked his tongue. “Even without it—they all say the Cao family’s brilliance lies with Brother Zhi! When Brother Zhi opens his mouth, his voice composes verses; his every cough becomes a pearl. With all due respect—doesn’t this public acclaim implicitly tarnish your own talents and virtues as the elder brother?”

“But there’s no need for that.”

“No, no— “How about handling it this way…” Hua Xin whispered into his lord’s ear. Cao Pi’s face could not completely conceal his jealousy toward his brother’s natural talent. The sycophant’s honeyed words struck at the young lord’s weakness. His suggested stratagem was as follows. Summon Cao Zhi there immediately and test his poetic talent; if it proved inadequate, use that pretext to kill him. If he demonstrated talent as rumored, demote his ranks and titles, exile him to a remote land, and make him an example to those who indulged solely in poetry and literature in this era of great turmoil—that would be advisable. Would this not be a strategy that achieved two objectives at once?

“Very well.” “Summon him at once.”

At Cao Pi’s summons, Zhi was led to his brother’s room, trembling with fear.

Cao Pi declared coldly, forcing authority into his voice. “You there—brother... no, Cao Zhi. By family law we are brothers, but by state law I am your sovereign. Hear me accordingly.” “Yes.” “Though our late father loved poetry that you so deftly composed to flatter him—making you his favorite among us—even then our brothers whispered: ‘Zhi’s verses aren’t his own. Some literary master ghostwrites them.’ In truth, I share these doubts. Today we shall test whether this talent is genuine or fraud. If my suspicions prove groundless, I’ll spare your life. But should they hold true—I’ll immediately pass judgment upon your crime of deceiving our late father through all these years. Do you contest this?”

Then Cao Zhi suddenly relaxed his furrowed brows crisply,

“No, I do not.” he answered reverently.

Cao Pi pointed at the large ancient painting hanging on the wall. It was an ink painting depicting two bulls locked in combat, upon which several individuals had inscribed text using an archaic calligraphic style. Two bulls battle beneath the mast; one falls into a well and dies. The painting bore inscriptions, but Cao Pi assigned Zhi the daunting task of composing a poem about battling bulls without using a single character from those inscribed words.

“Please grant me writing paper and a brush.” Having made this request, Cao Zhi immediately composed a poem and presented it to his brother. Without using the characters for “cow” or “fight,” a splendid poem about battling bulls had been composed. Cao Pi and the assembled ministers clicked their tongues in astonishment at his talent. Hua Xin hurriedly slipped a note he had prepared from beneath the desk into Cao Pi’s hand. When Cao Pi lowered his gaze to read it, he immediately raised his voice and issued the next challenge.

“Zhi!” “Stand—and take seven steps within this chamber.” “If you do not compose a poem by the time you take seven steps, know that your head will immediately be on the floor by the eighth step.” “Yes…”

Cao Zhi turned toward the wall and began to walk. One step, two steps, three steps— And as he walked, he intoned mournfully: "They boil beans using beanstalks as fuel, Beans in the pot cry out in sorrow. Born of the same root and stem, Why must you torment me with such haste?"

……

Even Cao Pi finally shed tears, and all the ministers wept. Poetry plucks the heartstrings of men and stirs their blood. Cao Zhi's poem had saved Cao Zhi's life. That very day, he was demoted to Marquis of Anxiang and entrusted his solitary form to a horse's back as he departed dejectedly from his brother's Wei royal palace.

Severing Personal Sentiments

1

Liu Bei, King of Hanzhong, turned exactly sixty years old this spring, in the twenty-fifth year of the Jian'an era. He was six years younger than Cao Cao of Wei. The news of Cao Cao’s death had already reached Chengdu, and in Liu Bei’s heart—having lost his longtime rival—he could not help but feel a tinge of desolation. Acknowledging him as both an enemy and a giant worthy of lamentation while reflecting on their shared history of countless battles—

"I too was now sixty years old."

And he must have been unable to help but anticipate the inevitable that would soon come upon him as well. As people age, they become short-tempered—this common trait of human beings likely stems, to varying degrees, from such unconscious psychological influences. Liu Xuande was no exception to this; his resolve to subjugate Wu, destroy Wei, and realize his ideals while his eyes still saw light had grown increasingly urgent with age. Meanwhile in Wei, Cao Pi had ascended to the throne, and reports of his increasingly blatant disregard for the imperial court reached Chengdu. One day, Liu Bei gathered his civil and military officials at a palace in Chengdu. He vehemently condemned Wei’s tyranny and mourned the late Guan Yu,

“First, we shall avenge Lord Guan Yu by striking Wu. Then, turning our might against the arrogant Wei, I intend to crush them with a single decisive blow. What say you all?” The people’s eyes shone. Now, Shu’s national strength had been fully restored, and its military forces had been rigorously trained in preparation for any emergency. Those were eyes that showed a will with which none disagreed.

At that moment, Liao Hua stepped forward and said: “The ones who caused Lord Guan Yu to be struck down by the enemy were none other than our own Liu Feng and Meng Da.” “Before we avenge ourselves against Wu, if we do not properly punish them, the significance of our retaliatory campaign will be diminished.” Xuande nodded deeply and said, “That matter—I have not forgotten it for a single day.” And immediately, after vowing to issue a summons to Liu Feng and Meng Da to punish them, Kongming was at his side,

“Ah, but if Your Majesty hastily issues summonses, it will inevitably lead to unforeseen consequences,” he advised. “First transfer both men to serve as prefects of a single commandery. Afterward, Your Majesty may deliberate on their fate at your leisure. The motives for rebellion invariably arise from such precipitous actions.” Indeed, all present were deeply impressed by Kongming’s astute discernment. However, among the assembled officials that day was a man named Peng Yi. He and Meng Da had been closely acquainted for some time. When the council concluded, he appeared to hurry down from the castle in haste, but upon returning home, he immediately set about composing a letter,

"(Your life is in danger. Even when the transfer decree arrives, remain vigilant. The issue of Guan Yu has reignited.)"

he sent out a secret report. However, the messenger carrying this secret letter was captured by Ma Chao’s night patrol soldiers outside the south city gate. Ma Chao, upon seeing the letter’s contents, was greatly startled. However, to be thorough, he decided to visit Peng Yi’s residence and ascertain his state. Completely unaware, Peng Yi, “You’ve come to visit at last.” He served wine and detained him, drinking heartily until late into the night, but eventually became drawn into Ma Chao’s words.

“If Meng Da of Shangyong raises his banner, you must act as an insider from Chengdu.” “Even this unworthy Peng Yi has full confidence in our success.” “A man of your caliber would not be content to remain forever as a mere guard dog at Shu’s gates, would you?” ...he ended up passionately venting the emotions buried deep in his chest. The next day, Ma Chao had an audience with the King of Hanzhong and reported everything from the previous night along with Peng Yi’s secret letter. Liu Bei immediately ordered Peng Yi’s arrest, had him imprisoned, and further subjected his remaining associates to interrogation under torture.

Peng Yi deeply regretted his actions and sent a letter of remorse from prison to Kongming, pleading through his compassion with entreaties of “Please save me.” Liu Bei too saw this appeal. “Military Advisor—what would you have us do?” he asked with an air of being half-convinced, but Kongming coldly shook his head. “Such complaints must be deemed the ravings of a madman. Those who harbor treasonous bones may feel momentary gratitude, yet will inevitably bare their disloyalty once more.” Rather than relenting, he instead abruptly rendered judgment and that very night granted Peng Yi death.

With Peng Yi’s execution, Meng Da, stationed in a distant land, now realized—and began to sense imminent peril for himself. It appeared he had long harbored intentions of rebellion, and his subordinates—the brothers Shen Dan and Shen Yi— “If we defect to Wei, Cao Pi will undoubtedly employ us with high rank,” they advised him to surrender, and without informing Liu Feng—who was in the same city—fled by night with only fifty or sixty horsemen.

II

Liu Feng heard of Meng Da's defection after daybreak, yet his face still showed he couldn't fully believe it. "His subordinates remain here in full, and he showed no unusual signs yesterday," he said. "He must have gone hunting or something."

Even when his attendants raised concrete suspicions, he dismissed them with a mere, "Surely not?" He remained composed, brushing it off with nothing more than that.

Then from the border palisade gate came an urgent messenger galloping in. It was news that some fifty horsemen—officers and soldiers—had breached the checkpoint and entered Wei. Realizing what had happened, he frantically rallied troops and cavalry, with Liu Feng himself leading the pursuit—but time had run out, and he returned empty-handed.

“Why on earth would Meng Da abandon this position and army to defect to Wei?” Liu Feng, still unaware of everything, remained merely perplexed when the urgent envoy from Chengdu arrived to convey the King of Hanzhong’s decree: “Meng Da’s treacherous intent is clear. Why are you standing idly by? Immediately raise the troops of Shangyong and Mianzhu, denounce his treachery, and take his head.” This was Kongming’s profound stratagem. While Liu Bei had intended to dispatch Shu troops from Chengdu to settle the matter, Kongming deemed this inadvisable. He argued that by ordering Liu Feng to pursue Meng Da—whether his army won or lost—Liu Feng would have no choice but to return to Chengdu, where disposing of him would serve as the optimal external policy.

Meanwhile, Meng Da, who had defected to Wei, was brought before Cao Pi and underwent an initial interrogation. Cao Pi inwardly welcomed the defection of this influential general but still harbored doubts. "I do not believe Xuande treated you with particular neglect," he inquired, "but what reason could you have had to come to Wei?" Meng Da answered: "My former lord Xuande continues to relentlessly blame me for not going to rescue Maicheng when Guan Yu’s army was annihilated. Through reports from Chengdu, I came to know they hold me responsible for abandoning Guan Yu to his death."

Just then, an urgent report arrived from Xiangyang direction. The report stated that Liu Feng had gathered over fifty thousand troops, invaded the borderlands while burning down settlements everywhere during his advance. Cao Pi considered this an ideal battle to test Meng Da’s loyalty. “Xiangyang remains secure with my generals Xiahou Shang and Xu Huang garrisoned there—no cause for alarm,” he declared. “But as your trial: reinforce our forces there first and bring me Liu Feng’s head! Your future treatment shall be determined afterward.” With this command, he provisionally appointed Meng Da as Cavalier Attendant-in-Ordinary and General Who Establishes Might before dispatching him to Xiangyang.

When Meng Da arrived at Xiangyang, Liu Feng’s army had already advanced to within eighty li of the suburbs. He drafted a letter, dispatched a military envoy, and had him take it to Liu Feng’s camp with the order, “Bring back a reply.” When Liu Feng received and opened it, he found that it was written in amicable terms conveying the following meaning.

For my own reasons, I have become a vassal of Wei. How would you consider surrendering to Wei as well to secure future wealth and honor? Though you and the King of Hanzhong share a foster father-son bond, you are originally the child of Marquis Luo’s son. The Liu clan’s succession has already been settled upon passing to the King of Hanzhong’s biological heir. While your standing remains intact, should you not move to Wei and revive the former house of Marquis Luo’s son?

Liu Feng tore the letter to shreds the moment he finished reading it. "Until today," he thought bitterly, "I still clung to some remnant of friendship for him. But now that I see him for what he truly is—a villain urging disloyalty and filial betrayal—this makes my resolve all the clearer." He ordered the envoy beheaded and immediately marched his troops toward Xiangyang Castle. Yet Liu Feng met defeat both that day and the next. At every engagement, Meng Da appeared at the vanguard to savage him mercilessly. To make matters worse, Xiangyang Castle housed Xu Huang—Wei's celebrated hero-general—and Xiahou Shang himself. Against such foes, Liu Feng stood no chance.

Having suffered repeated crushing defeats, Liu Feng’s forces were surrounded by three enemy generals and sustained devastating blows. They finally retreated in disarray to Shangyong—only to find that even there, the Wei army had already seized control, leaving them pitiable. In the end, he had no choice but to flee back to Chengdu with the remaining troops—just over a hundred horsemen. Kongming’s foresight had proven accurate.

III

When Xuande heard from his attendants that Liu Feng had returned defeated, “Do not allow him into the audience hall. Keep him at the foot of the stairs.” Having given this order to the attendants, he exchanged a glance with Kongming and let out a quiet sigh. He dragged his heavy feet to the front pavilion, leaned over its edge, and glared down at his adopted son Liu Feng prostrating below before speaking. “Whelp. How dare you show your face here?” Liu Feng finally lifted his head, “Not rescuing Uncle Guan Yu in his peril was not at all my intention. At that time, because Meng Da stubbornly refused, I ended up being swayed by his words and—against my true feelings—did not go to provide reinforcements either.”

Before being confronted about the matter, he began making excuses. Xuande furrowed his brows in anger. "Silence! I'll hear no more of these belated justifications. You who wear human clothes and eat human food—yet you consented to Meng Da's sophistry and abandoned your sworn uncle to die! Are you a dog? A beast? You're contemptible beyond measure! Rise! Begone! Your very visage defiles my sight!" Though his scolding grew fiercer, when he thought of this child he'd raised for years, his personal feelings seemed to stand apart. Tears welling in his eyes, he kept his face averted, never again looking directly at the youth below.

"...It was entirely my own incompetence." "No—it was my grievous error." "I implore you—grant me forgiveness just this once." "I swear it!" Liu Feng wept as he pressed his forehead to the ground again and again. Yet Xuande kept his face turned away. He restrained himself like unfeeling stone, treating paternal affection as a foe. Soon Liu Feng began wailing like an infant. Even Xuande's iron resolve faltered at that sound. His wrathful countenance nearly softened into a father's visage.

“…………”

Then, Kongming—who until then had remained silent while observing Xuande’s state—used his eyes to steadfastly support his crumbling resolve. He supplemented resolve where resolve was lacking. Xuande suddenly stood up,

“Warriors! Take this whelp away and behead him at once,” he barked at the ministers flanking him. No sooner had the words left his mouth than he practically fled, face darkening, to sequester himself in a rear chamber. Having shut himself away, he remained alone, despondently facing the wall. Then, a certain old vice-minister timidly approached him and said:

“Regarding Lord Liu Feng, when this humble one made inquiries among the subordinates who had retreated from the Xiangyang battlefield, it appears that Lord Liu Feng had already deeply regretted his past wrongs since his time in Shangyong, and after Meng Da fled to Wei, he seemed even more unbearably ashamed.” “Moreover, during the battle at Xiangyang, he tore up the surrender letter sent by Meng Da and immediately executed its envoy before pressing on with the battle. Thus, I can well understand his state of mind thereafter.” “We, your subjects, humbly beseech you to somehow bestow your compassion upon him—more earnestly than any of us could plead for ourselves.”

Even without this plea，Xuande had already been unable to resist wanting to save him. At the very moment he wanted someone to say such words，he heard these very ones. “Oh... So even he possessed a shred of conscience. It appeared he had at least some understanding of loyalty and filial piety. Pitiful wretch—it should not come to killing him.”

He stumbled out into the corridor. And suddenly sent the old vice-minister hurrying to convey his pardon. However at their meeting point several warriors had already beheaded Liu Feng and brought his head there. The moment Xuande saw it— “Wh-what? They’ve already executed him?!” I—how could I have acted so rashly surrendered to anger and caused my own right-hand man’s death? Ah how tragic! He muttered like a senseless fool lamenting so violently he could barely keep his footing.

At that moment, Kongming arrived and carried him, whose lamentations showed no sign of ceasing, into a private chamber. And in a quiet voice, “I fully understand your feelings.” “For I too am not made of wood or stone.” “...But if you consider the nation’s enduring plans, why should a single whelp be worth grieving over?” “If meeting such trifling sorrow causes you to instantly revert to a commoner, how can the foundation of your great enterprise ever be built?” “This is a girl’s sentiment.” “Laugh at your own tears.” “You are the King of Hanzhong!”

“……”

Xuande nodded. However, for him at the age of sixty, this too became one cause of his later illness.

Change of Era Name

I

In Wei, they changed the era name of that year from the 25th year of Jian'an to the first year of Yankang. Also, in the sixth month of summer, the tour of Cao Pi, King of Wei, was realized. He visited Qiao County in Pei—the hometown of his late father Cao Cao—decided to hold memorial rites at his ancestors’ graves, brought along civil and military officials for his retinue, and had three hundred thousand elite troops accompany him as guards.

The officials and commoners along the route swept the road and prostrated themselves before the ceremonial procession. Especially in Qiao County, their ancestral hometown, they came out to the roadside to offer wine and present rice cakes,

“There was Emperor Gaozu’s example of returning to his hometown in Pei, but even that could not have been as grand as this.”

Thus did they celebrate together. However, Cao Pi’s stay was exceedingly brief—he departed immediately after the memorial rites concluded—leaving the villagers feeling somewhat deflated. This occurred because he had received word that Old Xiahou Dun was critically ill, but by the time Cao Pi returned to the capital, General Xiahou Dun had already died. Cao Pi demonstrated filial piety at the East Gate and conducted a grand funeral with full honors for this meritorious retainer who had served since his father’s time. "They say misfortunes come in threes," he muttered, "but since the New Year, these past six months have been nothing but funerals and memorials."

Cao Pi muttered this, and his subjects too were somewhat troubled in spirit—but from August onward, nothing but strange auspicious occurrences continued. “It is said that a phoenix descended upon the countryside of Shiyi County. In the year of the era change, they made a commotion about it being a great auspicious omen, and representatives from the county came to offer congratulations.”

No sooner had the attendant relayed this and made Cao Pi rejoice than several days passed, "A qilin has reportedly appeared in Linzi—the citizens placed it in a cage and presented it at the city gate." Then again, in late autumn, rumors began circulating from no clear source that a Yellow Dragon had appeared in a certain area of Ye Commandery. Some claimed to have seen it, others insisted they had not, and the matter became a clamorous uproar.

Curiously, simultaneously with that rumor, Wei’s hereditary vassals began gathering daily within the council chambers, “Now, Heaven bestows auspicious signs. This is none other than a revelation that Wei must replace Han and govern all under heaven. We must duly urge the King of Wei and persuade the Han Emperor to carry out the great act of abdication.” Thus, inventing their own self-serving logic, they openly debated the grand conspiracy to usurp the imperial throne for Wei. Led by Palace Attendant Liu Yi, Xin Pi, Liu Ye, Director of the Secretariat Huan Jie, Chen Jiao, and Chen Qun, over forty civil and military officials of the Wei faction finally bore a jointly signed petition and went about persuading three senior ministers: Grand Commandant Jia Xu, Chancellor Hua Xin, and Imperial Censor Wang Lang.

“Ah, what the various officials have in mind is something we had long been considering ourselves,” they replied. “There is also the late King Wu’s final testament—surely His Majesty the King of Wei would have no objections.” The words of the three senior ministers aligned as perfectly as matched tally tokens. As for the appearance of qilin and the dance of phoenixes—judging by this rhetoric—they had not manifested in distant regions but rather seemed to have emerged from between the brows of these very ministers. But whether a horse leapt from a gourd or a Yellow Dragon emerged from council chambers, in China such things were hardly considered strange. The populace also delighted in miracles. Rather than theories denying phoenixes’ existence, there was a common tendency to predominantly support claims of their reality. When revering the imperial court or contemplating the throne’s legitimacy, the people of this continent held notions no more substantial than those they entertained about Yellow Dragons and phoenixes. Even among the clearly defined upper-middle elites—when interpreting their nation’s history—they would adapt explanations to suit each era, attributing all human endeavors to celestial phenomena and auspicious omens while carrying out machinations by fomenting so-called momentum—such was their way.

Wang Lang, Hua Xin, General Li Fu, Xu Zhi the Grand Historian’s aide, and other Wei officials finally appeared before the inner palace of Xudu, “This is most presumptuous,” they declared, “but the Han dynasty’s fortune has been exhausted. We beseech Your Majesty to abdicate the throne to the King of Wei and comply with the Mandate of Heaven.”

Thus did they prostrate themselves and petition. No—rather, it would be more accurate to say that a host of capped officials pressed upon the emperor’s very gates. II

Emperor Xian was still thirty-nine years of age. At nine years old he had been enthroned by Dong Zhuo as the Son of Heaven; since ascending to that supreme station, he had relocated the capital multiple times through war-torn lands strewn with stray arrows, endured hunger on roads choked with thorns, and eventually established his court at Xuchang. Yet even when peace finally came to Later Han's ancestral temples, Cao Cao's tyranny persisted—Wei officials' insolence and courtiers' cowering suppression left the imperial court a hollow shell, its existence nominal at best. Among all Eastern Han emperors through successive reigns, few could match Emperor Xian in their scarcity of heavenly favor. His life could only be described as one of capricious twists and unrelenting misfortune.

Moreover, he was now being compelled by Wei’s vassals to accept what no subject should ever dare speak of. What turmoil must have been in his heart.

The Emperor, of course, had no reason to immediately consent to such a thing. “Our lack of virtue can only be blamed on Ourself, but though I am unworthy, how could I bear to abandon the great enterprise of Our ancestors? Merely deliberate this in public council.”

Having declared those words, he retreated to the inner palace. Hua Xin, Li Fu, and their ilk thereafter ceaselessly attended court to expound on auspicious signs like qilin and phoenixes, declaring: “We your subjects have observed celestial phenomena at night—the Fiery Han’s vitality wanes as the imperial star dims. Yet the King of Wei’s celestial signs stretch to heaven’s edge and earth’s bounds.” “This truly portends Wei’s succession of Han.” “The calendar officials of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau all affirm this,” they pressed through astrological calculations; at other times still...

“In ancient times, the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors abdicated their thrones through virtue. It has always been customary for those lacking virtue to yield to those who possess it—even should they refuse to bow to heavenly principles, they must inevitably destroy themselves or be overthrown by forces destined to become the next emperors. The Han dynasty has endured four hundred years—this stems not from any lack of virtue in Your Majesty, but rather that it has naturally reached this ordained juncture. We humbly beseech Your Majesty to deeply apply your sacred wisdom to this matter and take utmost care not to obstinately cling to delusions or invite calamity through misguided persistence.”

They played with such outrageous self-serving arguments and even half-threatening statements. However, the Emperor remained obstinate, “As for auspicious omens and celestial phenomena—they are all baseless rumors unworthy of consideration. They are baseless lies,” he declared unequivocally, “Emperor Gaozu raised his three-foot sword to destroy Qin and Chu, establishing a dynasty that has endured four hundred years unto Our reign. How could I rashly abandon this enduring foundation?” He resolutely rejected their flattering sophistry, still showing no sign of submission.

Meanwhile, the might of the King of Wei, his golden power, and the lure of honor insidiously worked to corrode the inner officials of the court. Even without that, those loyal ministers who had truly served the Han court with all their hearts—many had already passed away, some had grown old and decrepit, others had been driven into retirement in the countryside—leaving not a single man of backbone remaining. In overwhelming numbers, those who curried favor with Wei’s power, trembling in fear—though they were court officials, only those who did nothing but gauge Wei’s every breath remained.

Be that as it may, in recent days even when the Emperor attended court, the number of court officials—both civil and military—who failed to appear had been growing daily. Some claimed illness, others cited ancestral memorial days, and still others absented themselves from their posts without any notice—their numbers were truly staggering. In the end, the Emperor was left utterly alone. “Ah...”

“What am I to do?” The Emperor sat alone shedding tears. Then from behind the Emperor, Empress Cao stealthily approached,

“Your Majesty.” “A messenger has come from my brother Cao Pi commanding my immediate attendance.” “Pray take care not to injure your sacred person.”

With those words heavy with implication, she began to withdraw with fragile elegance. The Emperor instantly realized his empress would never return. "Even you... Would cast me aside and return to the House of Cao?"

With that, he seized the sleeve of her robe. The Empress continued walking without pause all the way to the carriage porch of the front hall. The Emperor still pursued her. Then, Hua Xin, who had been standing there,

“Your Majesty. Why does Your Majesty not employ your subject’s counsel to avert calamity? Not only Her Majesty the Empress—if you persist in this manner, calamity will befall Your Majesty with every passing moment.” He now stood there arrogantly without even performing the ritual bow.

Three

What outrageous cruelty! What insolence! Even the ever-patient Emperor Xian trembled in rage. "What manner of words are these from you who bear the duty of subjects? "For over thirty years since I ascended the throne, I have governed with utmost diligence—in all that time, I recall not having enacted a single misgovernment. "If any in the realm resent today's governance, heaven and earth alike know full well this stems solely from Wei's tyrannical regime. "Who would dare resent Us and covet the Han dynasty's downfall?"

Then, Hua Xin also harshly raised his voice and grabbed the hem of the imperial robe,

“Your Majesty. Do not labor under such a misconception. We would never utter disloyal words. It is precisely because of our loyalty that we humbly advise this out of concern for even the slightest possibility of calamity. Now, Your Majesty’s word alone shall suffice. Kindly reveal your decision to us here. Whether you permit or do not permit—” “............”

The Emperor trembled, clenched his lips, and maintained his silence. Then Hua Xin shot a meaningful glance at Wang Lang, so the Emperor brushed the sleeve of his robe and hurriedly retreated into the inner chambers.

Immediately, throughout the palace, the sound of hurried footsteps began to echo chaotically. Suddenly, Cao Xiu and Cao Hong—Wei kinsmen—leapt up the palace steps with swords still at their sides. “Where is the Keeper of the Seal?! Keeper of the Seal! Keeper of the Seal!” they shouted loudly as they searched. Keeper of the Seal was the official title responsible for safeguarding the imperial seal and other treasures of the royal house. A distinguished elderly court official approached the two men without showing any fear.

"I am Zu Bi, Keeper of the Seal...?" "Hmm. Are you the one holding the office of Keeper of the Seal? Produce the Imperial Seal and surrender it to us." "Are you truly in your right minds to make such a demand?" "Do you dare refuse?" Cao Hong drew his sword and thrust it toward Zu Bi's face—yet Zu Bi showed no trace of fear. "Even a three-year-old child understands this! The Imperial Seal is the sacred treasure of the Son of Heaven itself! How could such a divine object be permitted to soil the hands of mere subordinates? You base wretches who know neither propriety nor decorum! Remove your shoes and withdraw from these steps at once!" he thundered.

Enraged, Cao Hong and Cao Xiu immediately dragged Zu Bi out into the courtyard, beheaded him, and threw his body into the pond. The Wei soldiers who had breached the forbidden gate and swarmed in—clad in armor and holding halberds—now filled the gardens of the southern hall and northern annex. The Emperor hastily gathered his courtiers, staining his august eyes with bloody tears as he trembled with tragic resolve and proclaimed to the assembly: "The enterprise built by Our ancestors through successive generations—to abolish it in Our reign—what lack of virtue could this signify?" "Even in the Nine Springs below, I have no face to present myself before the ancestor emperors—but what can be done? The matter has finally come to this." "Henceforth, I shall yield the throne to the King of Wei and conceal myself, praying solely for the peace and security of the people..."

Jade tears streamed down cheeks in torrents, and amidst the sobbing voices of the courtiers, for a time, the place resembled a late autumn pond under a downpour. Then, Wei official Jia Xu brusquely stepped forward, “Ah! You have graciously resolved your will.” “Your Majesty!” “Your Majesty! Issue the edict without delay and avert the calamity of bloodshed at the palace gates before it occurs!” Though the Emperor had issued his imperial decree and approved the monumental act of abdicating the throne, he remained overwhelmed by tears. Yet Jia Xu immediately summoned Huan Kai, Chen Qun, and others to forcibly draft the abdication edict, then promptly dispatched Hua Xin as envoy to present it along with the Imperial Seal.

Proclaiming, "The imperial envoy departs for the Wei King’s palace," he exited through the forbidden gate. Of course, they included all court officials as attendants and departed in splendid procession—in strict adherence to the Emperor’s will—so that to commoners along the roads, Wei’s heinous acts within the palace remained hidden from view.

“They’ve come?” Cao Pi must have smirked to himself. Just as he seemed about to declare, “Upon receiving the imperial edict, I shall immediately accept the abdication,” Sima Yi Zhongda hurriedly—

“No! “Your Highness cannot accept it so rashly,” Sima Yi admonished.

IV Even if it is something you unbearably desire, you must not immediately reach out for it. In all matters, it is considered propriety to follow the so-called practice of repeatedly declining with humility before finally accepting. Moreover, to deceive the realm’s censure, would it not be prudent to display that modesty and ceremonial refusal with even greater solemnity and exaggerated grandeur? —Sima Zhongda conveyed this to his lord Cao Pi through his gaze.

Cao Pi immediately understood, "I am by no means born for such a station; only the true lord of myriad chariots may govern the realm." With words utterly contrary to his true intentions, he reverently had the court draft a memorial and temporarily returned the Imperial Seal.

Upon hearing the envoy’s reply, the Emperor was thrown into deep perplexity. The Emperor turned his gaze toward his attendants. “Cao Pi says he will not accept.” “What is to be done?”

At this, his august brows relaxed somewhat—he even appeared as if a glimmer of hope had dawned.

Hua Xin did not leave his side. He immediately addressed the throne as follows. “In ancient times, during Emperor Yao’s august reign, there were two noble daughters named Ehuang and Nüying.” “When Yao sought to abdicate the throne to Shun, Shun declined and would not accept.” “Thereupon, Emperor Yao had his two noble daughters wed to King Shun and later abdicated the throne to him—such an example exists.” “…Your Majesty.” “I beseech Your Majesty to exercise your wise discernment.” Once again, Emperor Xian wore an expression of bitter tears he could do nothing about. With no alternative, the following day he once again appointed Zhang Yin—envoy of the High Temple—as imperial emissary, had his two beloved princesses board a carriage, and sent them forth to the Wei King’s palace bearing the Imperial Seal.

Cao Pi was greatly delighted. However, this time as well, his strategist Jia Xu was at his side,

“You must not.” He shook his head with a look that seemed to add, “Not yet.”

After fruitlessly sending back the imperial envoy, Cao Pi interrogated him with a slightly sullen face. “Even with the precedent of Yao and Shun, why did you insist I refuse again this time?” “Is there truly such pressing need for haste? Jia Xu’s consideration was solely to prevent public censure—for should those self-styled wise men of the realm unite in condemning that ‘the Cao heir has finally seized the throne,’ it would prove most dreadful.” “Then must we await a third imperial envoy?”

“No, no—this time, let us discreetly convey our intentions to Hua Xin. That is to say, we should recommend having Hua Xin construct an elevated platform, name it the Abdication Platform, choose an auspicious day in a designated month, and hold a grand ceremony where His Majesty the Emperor personally presents the Imperial Seal to abdicate to the King of Wei.”

Truly, Wei’s usurpation of the throne was executed with such meticulous care.

The Abdication Platform was completed in the tenth month of that year at Fanyang, a site chosen through divination. The three-tiered platform and the ceremony’s four gates were adorned with dazzling brilliance. Several thousand officials from the imperial court and princely residences, eight thousand troops of the Imperial Forest Army, and over three hundred thousand soldiers of the Tiger Guard stood arrayed below the platform, their banners and pennants rising like dense forests. Beyond these, Hun black youths, barbarian envoys, and all others bearing rank or serving the princely households were honored to witness this grand rite.

The day of Gengwu in the tenth month. The hour of the Tiger.

On this day—as if moved by some unspoken sentiment—thin clouds swelled across the sky, leaving the solar disk hanging cold and crimson in the heavens. Emperor Xian stood upon the platform. He then read aloud the edict proclaiming his abdication of the imperial throne to the King of Wei. The imperial voice rasped faintly, trembling intermittently. After performing the ceremonial rites known as the Eightfold Grand Rites, Cao Pi ascended the platform to receive the Imperial Seal. The Emperor descended the steps accompanied by all former court officials great and small, concealing his tears as he went. A deafening swell of ceremonial music—drowning out every sound between heaven and earth—surged forth all at once. Cries of "Long live the Emperor!" shook the very clouds. That evening, hailstones fell like stones.

Cao Pi, now the Wei Emperor,

"Henceforth, our state shall be designated as Great Wei."

He proclaimed this and also changed the era name to Huangchu 1st Year.

The late Cao Cao was also posthumously honored with the title "Grand Ancestor Martial and Virtuous Emperor."

Here, the pitiable one was Emperor Xian. Wei Emperor’s envoy ruthlessly visited the residence, “In His Benevolence’s mercy, he cannot bear to kill you and thus enfeoffs you as Duke of Shanyang.” “Depart for Shanyang this very day and do not enter the capital again.” conveyed such a heartless decree.

The Duke of Shanyang, accompanied by a handful of old retainers, rode a single donkey and departed in desolation for the rural hinterlands beneath the winter sky.

Shu followed suit.

One

Upon hearing that Cao Pi had ascended to the throne as Emperor of Great Wei, Xuande in Chengdu of Shu—

"What a travesty!" exclaimed Xuande, bitterly indignant as he lamented day and night the world's inversion. Word reached him that Emperor Xian—driven from the capital—had perished in a provincial region the following year. Xuande grieved yet more profoundly, conducting private rites to posthumously honor him as Emperor Xiaomin while withdrawing into deep mourning that left state affairs largely unattended. Having entrusted all governance to Kongming, he now found even food and drink increasingly unpalatable.

“This is quite troublesome.”

From domestic and foreign policies to anxieties over Shu's future, problems had accumulated in Kongming's breast—matters so numerous that even ceaseless pondering could not exhaust them. But Xuande was sixty-one. He was still young at forty-one. Moreover, he was a man who endured with hidden patience. "Endure a hundred hardships, and sorrow will vanish of its own accord," he maintained. He himself,

"(This is simply my nature)," he seemed to console himself alone amid his hardships.

He was not a man who moved about much. He spoke little, and if anything, he even carried a somewhat gloomy air about him. Thus, even as Xuande remained secluded, he too appeared worn down by hardships and mired in gloom. At a glance, he seemed almost incompetent.

—Yet in truth, he was a man whose mind knew not a moment’s rest, and he himself, who understood that nature better than anyone, (This is simply my nature)—and therein lay his reason for consoling himself.

It was around March of the year following the collapse of the Later Han court. A certain old fisherman named Zhang Jia from Xiangyang,

“While casting my net in the Xiang River at night,” he explained, having journeyed all the way to Shu to present it to Kongming, “this object rose from the riverbed accompanied by a beam of light.” It was a golden seal. Gleaming gold, upon its face were carved eight characters in seal script. It read: 受命于天　既寿永昌 The moment Kongming saw it, he was greatly astonished,

“This is indeed the true Imperial Seal.” “This must be that very Imperial Seal—the one said to have been taken from the Han house during the great chaos in Luoyang and long lost to history.” “The one that reached Cao Pi must therefore be a later fabrication created provisionally by the court.” He suddenly summoned Grand Tutor Xu Jing, Palace Counselor Qiao Zhou, and others, ordering them to investigate historical precedents. The people, having heard the news,

"This is surely Heaven’s revelation that our lord, being a scion of the Han dynasty’s imperial lineage, must rightfully inherit its legitimate succession," they proclaimed, while those who invoked celestial omens for every matter,

“Come to think of it,” they expounded, “these past days in Chengdu’s northwestern skies, a luminous glow bearing auspicious signs has risen nightly like clockwork.” In essence, as the tide Kongming had foreseen swelled throughout Shu’s territories, he one day attended the King of Hanzhong’s chambers alongside his ministers and proposed: “Now is precisely when Your Majesty must ascend the imperial throne—to rectify the Han dynasty’s line of succession, comfort the ancestral temple’s spirits, and thereby bring stability to all people.”

He proposed establishing an imperial throne. Xuande was astounded, "Do you mean to make me a disloyal and unrighteous man for all posterity?!" he roared furiously.

Kongming straightened his robes. "We would never equate the rebellious son Cao Pi with Your Majesty." "Who else but Your Majesty—direct descendant of Emperor Jing—can properly punish such regicide?" "There exists none other than Your Grace to mete justice for this heinous crime." "But I remain but a village man from Zhuo Commandery who stumbled into service." "'Under Heaven's canopy, upon Earth's every shore.'" "Before performing a single kingly deed—even with Han's fall—to claim succession would brand me with Cao Pi's infamy." "Speak no more of this." "I harbor no such aspirations."

In the end, Xuande absolutely refused to listen.

Kongming withdrew in silence.

And from that point onward, claiming illness, he ceased to appear at council meetings entirely. "Is his condition truly so grave?"

Xuande began to worry. Finally unable to bear it any longer, one day, he personally visited Kongming’s residence to inquire after the illness.

II

Kongming left his sickbed with trepidation, donned clean garments, and welcomed Xuande. The moment he entered the sickroom, Xuande exclaimed in haste, "You should have remained lying down! If you strain yourself and worsen your illness, my coming all this way to visit would only prove harmful. Military Advisor, dispense with formalities—lie down at once." "This is too great an honor. That Your Lordship should personally grace this unworthy servant’s dwelling already overwhelms me beyond measure. For you to visit this unsightly invalid’s bedside—I find no words adequate to express my shame."

"You've lost some weight." "How is your appetite?" "It hasn't improved much."

“Just what manner of illness is this?”

“It is mental anguish.” “As for my body, I believe there is no illness.” “An illness of the mind?”

“I can only beg for Your wise discernment.”

Kongming covered his eyes. No matter how much Xuande pressed him, he would only answer that while there was no physical illness, the sickness of his heart now seared within his chest. “Military Advisor. Are you saying my refusal of your recent proposal is the cause of your distress?” “That is so. For over ten years since leaving my thatched cottage, I have served you with my meager talents. Now that we’ve taken Ba-Shu, I feel a fragment of my ideal has at last been realized. Yet as we seek to establish here a foundation for ten thousand generations and render this grand enterprise—this brilliance—eternal... What could Your Excellency’s intentions be? At this critical hour, you seem to fear vulgar opinions, cling to personal standing, and lack ambition to become Heaven’s chosen pillar. To govern through this era’s chaos and lay foundations for eternal peace—this Heaven-appointed task cannot be achieved by mere resolve alone. Your unworthy servant Liang left his cottage believing none but Your Excellency could accomplish this. Truly, you once blazed with ambition for all people across generations. ...Ah, but now even you, Imperial Uncle Liu, grow content with petty achievements in your twilight years—desiring only personal safety. These thoughts torment me daily, worsening this minister’s ailment.”

Kongming’s words were steeped in profound solemnity. Moreover, within those words—whether on their surface or beneath—there existed not a trace of personal agenda or selfish desire. Xuande found himself compelled to acquiesce.

By nature, he was a man who placed immense value on legitimacy. He was by disposition concerned with worldly praise and censure. Precisely because of this, regarding this matter he had shown no inclination to readily comply with Kongming's opinion from the outset. However, the surrounding circumstances and internal movements within Shu ultimately left no room for Xuande's continued hesitation.

“I understand,” he said. “It seems my thinking was still too narrow in scope. If I remain silent like this, the people of the world may take it as tacit approval of Cao Pi’s ascension in Wei. Once the Military Advisor recovers his health, I shall accept your counsel without reservation.” Xuande departed having made this pledge.

Within several days, Kongming was already showing his bright countenance at the Shu headquarters' administrative office. Grand Tutor Xu Jing, General Who Pacifies Han Mi Zhu, Marquis of Qingyi Shang Ju, Marquis of Yangquan Liu Bao, Provincial Officer Yang Hong, Erudite of Illustrious Literature Yi Ji, Academician Yin Mo, and the numerous other civil and military officials held daily meetings to investigate precedents and rituals for the grand ceremony while repeatedly deliberating about the proceedings of the enthronement ceremony.

The fourth month of Jian'an 26.

Chengdu bustled with the grandest event since its founding. The grand ceremonial altar had been constructed south of Wudan, the imperial procession departed through the palace gates, and amidst an army that filled the earth like floodwaters and civil-military officials who swirled about like stars while shouting "Long live!", Xuande received the Imperial Seal and proclaimed to all under heaven his ascension as Emperor of Shu.

Once the ritual of obeisance and dance concluded, immediately,

(Designated as Zhangwu 1) The proclamation of this new era name was issued, and the state was (designated as Great Shu) was thus designated. In Great Wei, a Great Wei emperor was established; in Great Shu, a Great Shu emperor was established. The ironclad rule of antiquity—that there cannot be two suns in heaven—was broken here. What move would Wu show in response to this?

Three

Since ascending to the throne as Emperor of Shu, Xuande's very countenance had undergone a transformation, naturally acquiring a weight of imperial majesty surpassing even his days as King of Hanzhong, now bearing an ineffable dignity of his later years. What had changed even more was his spirit. For a time, he had been exceedingly timid, preoccupied solely with legitimacy and humanitarianism, and the grand ambitions he had nurtured from youth through middle age seemed to have withered entirely in his later years; but after visiting Kongming's home and hearing his admonitions during illness, he began to display a certain awakened breadth and depth of character, along with the seasoned maturity of an elder who knew no weariness in both civil and military governance.

“In Our lifetime, there remains a duty We must yet fulfill.” “That is to attack Wu.” “It is to avenge Guan Yu, with whom We swore an oath in the Peach Garden long ago.” “It would be no exaggeration to say Our Great Shu’s military preparations have advanced solely for that purpose.” “We now dare proclaim to Guan Yu’s spirit that We shall fulfill the oath of old by raising Our realm’s full might.” “You shall apply yourselves to this task.”

One day.

The Emperor of Shu’s august voice thus proclaimed to his assembled ministers. The hundreds of officials attending morning court stood in such solemn silence that not a cough could be heard. With eyes glittering as if to ask *How could any doubt this imperial decree?*, they answered through faces flushed crimson with resolve. Then Zhao Yun Zilong “Folly! Folly!” he alone remonstrated without hesitation. “Wu must not be attacked now. If we strike at Wei, Wu will perish of its own accord. Should we instead turn against Wu first, Wei and Wu will surely unite as one—then Shu cannot avoid being trapped between hammer and anvil.”

“What nonsense are you spouting, Zhao Yun?” Xuande glanced sidelong at him with his narrow eyes and spoke as if rebuking.

“Wu is an archenemy who shares not the same sky with us! Is it not the land that slew my sworn brother and now shelters those deserters from my command—traitors like Fu Shiren, Mi Fang, Pan Zhang, and Ma Zhong? Unless I devour their flesh and exterminate their nine generations to show the world the wretched end of their villainy, my reign as Emperor of Great Shu holds no meaning!” “Ah, but whether it be vengeance between kin or punishment of disloyal subjects—these remain Your Majesty’s private grievances. The destiny of the Shu Empire bears far greater weight.”

“Guan Yu was a pillar of the state; Ma Zhong, Fu Shiren, and their ilk are all traitors. To rectify right and wrong and avenge grievances—is this not naturally the will of the state? How can you call this private anger? Only when there exists both the people’s enmity—so intense that all rage—and a clear just cause for battle can one achieve victory in war. Your words hold logic in theory but merit no respect.”

The Emperor of Shu’s determination was unshakable.

Afterward, the Emperor of Shu’s envoys secretly traveled back and forth to Nanman (Yunnan/Kunming).

And they succeeded in securing over fifty thousand Nanman soldiers. During this time, a strange calamity befell Zhang Fei personally. At that time, Zhang Fei was in Langzhong (Sichuan Langzhong) when he received an imperial decree appointing him as Chariot and Cavalry General and Colonel-Director of Retainers and also ordering him to concurrently serve as Governor of the entire Langzhou region. “Even after ascending to the imperial throne, my elder brother still does not forget this unworthy younger brother of his.” He, being a man of strong emotions, wept before the envoy after saying this.

Ever since hearing of Guan Yu’s death, Zhang Fei had grown even more prone to violent emotions. When drunk, he raged; when sober, he railed; or wept alone while glaring at Wu’s skies. He would strike his sword and clench his teeth while vowing to someday avenge his sworn elder brother’s grudge—such scenes became commonplace. The soldiers in camp, exposed to his fervor, were often struck or kicked. Thus, among the officers and soldiers, there was an air that some even secretly harbored resentment toward Zhang Fei.

On the day he received the decree conferring honors, Zhang Fei, after entertaining the imperial envoy, "Why do Shu's court officials not urge the Emperor to attack Wu even a single day sooner?" he launched into a fierce argument as if it were entirely the envoy's fault.

The Peach Garden’s Final Spring

I Even after draining a peck of wine, Zhang Fei remained unsated. The veins at his temples bulged, his face—nay, even the whites of his eyes—turned crimson as he spat at the envoy and declared: “Not only the court officials but even Kongming are truly spineless figureheads. I hear Kongming has now taken up the post of Prime Minister to assist the Emperor, but starting with him, the civil and military officials of the Shu court—content with their glorious ranks—have they not grown secretly weary of the hardships of war? ...They are truly despicable petty men. Even an unworthy man such as I, Zhang Fei, has today been granted this gracious honor. Far from harboring resentment, I feel twice as grateful as any other. Yet when I think that Guan Yu is no longer in this world, I cannot help but swear to raise an army of vengeance against Wu. It’s unbearable! It’s intolerable! Before Wu is destroyed, for us alone to be basking in such imperial favors and living peacefully and securely—this is utterly inexcusable. When I think of how Guan Yu beneath the earth must be gnashing his teeth...”

Zhang Fei began to weep.

When his intoxication and emotions reached their peak, he would always weep in bitter indignation—such was his habit.

However, his words were by no means mere drunken ramblings; such feelings were surely ones he constantly harbored.

As evidence of this, no sooner had the envoy returned than he too immediately proceeded to Chengdu to urge Shu’s uprising. Even as Emperor Xuande, he still deeply upheld the Oath of the Peach Garden they had sworn together—this remained unchanged now. Reflecting on his advanced age and having once come to terms with life's twilight,

After declaring, “I will not coexist with Wu,” he proceeded daily to the training grounds, personally reviewing the troops, drilling the warhorses, and single-mindedly awaiting that day’s arrival. However, starting with Kongming, all the civil and military officials who cared about the future of the state— “(Your Majesty has only recently ascended to the supreme throne; to instigate another great war now would by no means demonstrate governance rooted in reverence for ancestral rites.)” With many opposing this view, Xuande found himself reluctantly delaying the military expedition against his will.

At that time, Zhang Fei came to Chengdu.

That day, having heard that Xuande had left the imperial court and was at the drill hall of the training grounds, he went there immediately before passing through the palace gates to pay his respects to the Emperor.

At that moment, Zhang Fei prostrated himself beneath the imperial throne, embraced the Emperor’s feet, and wept aloud. Xuande also stroked Zhang Fei’s back, “It is good you have come.” “Guan Yu has already perished from this world, and of the sworn brothers who met in the Peach Garden, now only you and I remain as two.” “Are you in good health?” he tenderly comforted his grief.

Zhang Fei clenched his fist,

“Your Majesty, have you still not forgotten that ancient oath? This unworthy one too—until I have avenged Guan Yu’s death, no wealth or glory can bring even the slightest joy to my heart.” As he wiped away his tears and spoke, Xuande too brimmed with sorrowful tears. “My heart is the same. Someday, I will surely march with you to attack Wu.”

Zhang Fei leaped for joy, “If Your Majesty possesses such courage, then instead of speaking of ‘someday,’ I, Zhang Fei, wish to accompany you at once. If we are obstructed by civil officials and certain military men who have grown accustomed to peaceful days and now rush headlong into their own petty comforts, then in this lifetime, there will be no day when we can pour out this hatred from our hearts.” “So it is, so it is.” In that instant, Xuande summoned his courageous resolve and finally issued a grand command directly to Zhang Fei.

“Immediately prepare your forces and march south from Langzhong,” he commanded. “I shall lead a great army to Jiangzhou, join with you there, and together we shall crush Wu.” Zhang Fei clapped his hands to his head in exultation, bounded down the palace steps, and raced back to Langzhong without delay. Yet opposition erupted within the imperial court regarding these military preparations. Scholar Qin Mi openly remonstrated against the campaign’s impropriety.

“I and Guan Yu are one.” “Now that Guan Yu is gone, Wu grows arrogant and boastful.” “How could I bear to sit idly by? If you obstruct me further, I will cast you into prison and behead you!”

Stubbornly, Xuande refused to listen. Given his mild and conservative nature, this action in his later years appears entirely like that of a different person.

II Kongming also presented a memorial. "It may be acceptable to attack Wu," he wrote, "but now is not the time." He had remonstrated to the utmost but ultimately could not deter Xuande. In the early days of July in the first year of Zhangwu, the Shu army of 750,000 troops departed from Chengdu. Among them marched red-haired, dark-skinned barbarian troops borrowed as reinforcements from Nanman. "Your Majesty must remain here in Chengdu and safeguard the Crown Prince," declared Zhuge Liang as he stayed behind.

Ma Chao and Ma Dai’s cousin were also left behind alongside General Who Guards the North Wei Yan to defend Hanzhong. However, the land of Hanzhong was also an important position for sending provisions to the front lines.

The expeditionary force that had set out placed Huang Zhong in the vanguard with Feng Xi and Zhang Nan as vice generals. Zhao Rong and Liao Chun served as Central Army Protectors. The rear guard comprised loyal vassals and various generals. The sect's standard-bearers and others advanced southward from Shu's gorges like an impenetrable cloud formation.

However.

There, a sorrowful incident befell Shu. That was an unforeseen disaster that befell Zhang Fei alone.

After hurriedly returning to his domain in Langzhong, Zhang Fei, already burning with the spirit to devour Wu, addressed the officers and soldiers of his camp:

“Immediately prepare to depart for battle!” he ordered, then summoned his subordinate generals Fan Jiang and Zhang Da. “This campaign against Wu is a memorial battle for my sworn brother Guan Yu.” “From the warships’ curtains to weapons, flags, armor, and battle robes—all shall be made white. I intend to march forth in white banners and white battle attire.” “Therefore, you shall carry out this task and prepare it within three days.” “We shall depart Langzhong at dawn on the fourth day—see that there are no delays,” he commanded.

“But...” they began, their eyes growing round. It was an impossible deadline. No matter how they considered it, it simply couldn’t be done—that was what they immediately concluded. However, knowing Zhang Fei’s temperament, they temporarily backed down and held a discussion. Then they came again before Zhang Fei,

“Please grant us at least ten days’ grace.” “There’s absolutely no way we can accomplish this in such a short time.” They pleaded their case. “What? Can’t do it?” Zhang Fei’s veins bulged violently, like a flame igniting liquor. By his side were staff officers already engaged in strategy, his state of mind no different from when on the battlefield. “With our departure imminent, how can you idly request ten days’ grace?” “Punish those who defy my orders!”

He ordered his warriors to bind the two men and tie them to a large tree before the camp.

Not only that, but Zhang Fei struck both men with a whip. Before the eyes of their watching comrades, having been subjected to this treatment, the Fan Jiang brothers must have felt absolute humiliation. However, the two men soon cried out from amidst their screams, apologizing for their crimes.

“Please forgive us! We’ll do it! We will absolutely prepare everything you ordered within three days!” Utterly simple-minded, Zhang Fei retorted: “See? You could’ve done this from the start! I’ll release you—now work like your lives depend on it!” With that, he untied their bonds. That night, he drank wine with his generals until collapsing into sleep. Though such carousing was routine for him, this evening found him especially deep in his cups; staggering into his tent, he collapsed onto his bed and began snoring thunderously.

Then, around the second watch. Two suspicious men had sneaked in and clung to the tent wall for some time. They were the brothers Fan Jiang and Zhang Da. After carefully ascertaining Zhang Fei’s breathing, they drew their concealed daggers with a glint— “Hah!”

With a shout, they lunged at his sleeping form and severed Zhang Fei’s head. Carrying the severed head, they darted into the outer darkness like swift birds. Leaping into a boat waiting by the Lang River’s edge, they fled downstream with dozens of their clan members, finally escaping to Wu. Truly grievous was Zhang Fei’s death. The gallant warrior’s sole flaw lay in his coarse temperament and rashness. Though his valor still had many days left to serve Shu—beginning from that day when peach blossoms blazed in their garden—there his life ended. He was said to be fifty-five years old.

Wild Geese in Disarray

One

In the sweltering seventh month, Shu’s 750,000-strong army had already departed Chengdu and continued its winding march. Kongming had attended the Emperor and escorted him a hundred li beyond the capital, but— “I shall safeguard the Crown Prince’s person.” “Farewell.” Urged by Xuande, he returned to Chengdu with an air of melancholy.

Then came the next day.

As they set up camp and established positions along the way, a man named Wu Ban—a subordinate of Zhang Fei—caught up to them, both he and his horse drenched in sweat. “Please look at this.”

Gasping for breath, he presented a single memorial. Receiving it from an attendant’s hands, Xuande had no sooner finished reading than— “Ah! Zhang Fei!”

He seemed to sway dizzily and pressed his forehead as though about to faint, then— “Ugh…” He merely groaned. His limbs trembled, his complexion turned deathly pale, and cold sweat streamed from his brow until at last,

“Was it an omen? Last night, I awoke twice at midnight, and somehow my soul was utterly shaken...” He muttered, and soon tears streamed down, “An unavoidable fate. At the very least, I shall hold a memorial service tonight. Set up a platform.” he said weakly from his pale lips.

The next morning.

As they were about to depart this place, a young general—clad in a white battle robe and silver armor, leading a troop of cavalry—hurried toward them.

“I am Zhang Fei’s legitimate son, Zhang Bao.” After he introduced himself, attendants immediately led him before Xuande. Upon seeing him,

“Oh! A brave young man who takes after your father. Will you stand at the head of my vanguard alongside Wu Ban?” With that, he showed an appearance of sorrow mingled with a single joy, greatly regaining his composure.

Zhang Bao answered, “Please let me join the vanguard’s ranks. Unless I accomplish deeds surpassing my father’s in his stead, I fear even in the netherworld he shall find no peace.” Yet on that same day, Guan Yu’s second son Guan Xing also arrived at the army with a troop of soldiers. When Xuande saw Guan Yu’s son, fresh tears streamed down his face. At this great war’s outset, there was such excessive weeping that the nearby generals counseled: “There is an old saying—‘When dragon tears fall to earth, three years of drought follow.’ Your Majesty, for the realm’s sake, we implore you to preserve your sacred person and devote your thoughts to uplifting the army’s morale.” “Indeed,” Xuande immediately acknowledged.

“There is an old saying: ‘When imperial tears fall to earth, three years of drought shall follow.’ Your Majesty, if you consider the gravity of the realm, we beseech you not to impair your imperial health. Let Your Majesty instead devote your august consideration to uplifting the army’s morale.” Thus they entreated. “—Indeed.” Xuande immediately understood.

Now past sixty years of age, he led an army of over seven hundred thousand beyond a thousand li from his domain and was now on this expedition. Before even entering battle, if he harmed his heart and damaged his body, how could he possibly defeat Wu? —So he himself came to reconsider. Moreover, it went without saying that his every fluctuation between joy and sorrow immediately exerted a profound influence on the morale of the entire army. Among the generals and soldiers, there arose murmurs of unease—voices that frequently expressed concern over celestial signs and earthly omens regarding the fortune of their campaign.

One day, Chen Zhen addressed Xuande as follows. "In this vicinity lies a sacred peak called Qingcheng Mountain." "There resides an immortal sage named Li Yi who divines celestial and terrestrial phenomena in detail and is revered in this age as a divine immortal by all." "How about summoning him through imperial decree to divine the fortunes of this endeavor once?"

Though Xuande showed reluctance in his disposition, as many of the other generals urged him, he resolved to send Chen Zhen as an envoy and have Li Yi summoned to the military camp. Chen Zhen promptly made his ascent up Qingcheng Mountain. When he finally approached the mountain path, it indeed appeared just as worldly rumors had described—with ethereal mists swirling among clear clouds, making one truly believe this was precisely where divine immortals would dwell.

Two As he went further and climbed higher, the path narrowed increasingly; water formed streams and waterfalls; auspicious mist swirled gently around the trees; the mountain winds howled, and the cries of birds cleansed his ears and heart—until Chen Zhen forgot his mission entirely. Then from afar came a boy walking over. When he reached Chen Zhen, he stopped and smiled.

“You must be Master Chen Zhen.” Startled by the sudden address, he was greatly taken aback. “How do you know my name?” he asked, widening his eyes in surprise. “Yesterday, my teacher said. ‘...that sometime tomorrow, a man named Chen Zhen—an envoy of the Emperor of Shu—would come up the mountain...’” “Huh? Then, your teacher must be Immortal Li Yi?” “That’s right… But my teacher won’t meet anyone who comes.” “Don’t say such things—please guide me. I beg you… This is none other than the Son of Heaven’s envoy. If the immortal sage does not grant me an audience, I cannot return.”

“Well then, I’ll try to arrange an introduction. Come along.”

The boy walked ahead.

After traveling several li, there lay a tranquil immortal realm. The boy entered the hermitage and reported to his master Li Yi. Li Yi reluctantly emerged to receive the imperial envoy, "What matter brings the Emperor’s envoy here?" he inquired. Chen Zhen now explained in detail the Emperor of Shu’s will—who was currently on his southern expedition— “His Majesty earnestly wishes to trouble you, Immortal Sage, and seek your counsel,” “Since I shall accompany you, would you be so kind as to make the journey down to Shu’s camp for a single day?”

He spoke with utmost politeness and deference. Li Yi was reluctant, but

"If it is an imperial decree, there is no refusing," he said and followed Chen Zhen down the mountain in silence. Xuande, now before this Immortal Sage, spoke frankly of his thoughts and posed his questions. “You must already know this—since my youth, I forged a sworn brotherhood with Guan Yu and Zhang Fei, lived through thirty years of ceaseless warfare, and after finally securing Shu’s stability, was urged by the people to ascend the throne due to my lineage from King Jing of Zhongshan. Thus I established this foundation. Yet against all expectation, my two sworn brothers were slain, and those who bear responsibility for this all reside in Wu.” “Therefore I resolved to march against Wu and have now embarked on this campaign—but what fortune or calamity awaits ahead? Speak without reservation—I would hear the meaning of your divination.”

Li Yi replied without hesitation. "That I do not know. All things follow heaven’s decree—that is to say, heaven’s will." "I have heard you are deeply versed in such heavenly decrees, Venerable One. I beseech you to perform the divination." "How could a lowly mountain dweller such as myself comprehend such grand cosmic matters?" "No—this must be your modesty speaking. I implore you, grant me but a single word of guidance." After repeated entreaties, Li Yi finally relented. "Bring paper and a brush," he requested, then began silently drawing.

When observed, child-like images of soldiers, horses, weapons, and such were drawn—then torn up one after another. He drew and discarded, drew and discarded until all hundred sheets were turned into waste paper.

And on the final sheet, he drew a single doll lying supine, with another figure beside it digging earth as if to bury the doll. Li Yi paused his brush to examine his drawing, then wrote the character "white" across the image and cast his brush aside. "This exceeds all propriety," he murmured something incomprehensible before prostrating himself a hundred times before Xuande and vanishing like mist. Xuande watched him depart with a joyless countenance. Then to his nearby generals,

“We welcomed a worthless man and squandered precious time,” he declared. “He was likely a madman. Burn these paper scraps immediately.”

At that moment, Zhang Bao—son of Zhang Fei—approached the foot of the imperial throne and made this report.

“It appears Wu’s forces have already emerged at the front. I humbly beseech you to grant me command of the vanguard.”

III

“Ah! How valiant is that resolve of yours! Zhang Bao! Go forth at once and establish your merit!”

Xuande took the vanguard’s seal and cord and was about to confer them upon Zhang Bao with his own hands.

Then, from among the generals below the stairs, a voice abruptly rang out.

“Your Majesty,” he said. “Wait a moment, please. The vanguard’s seal—I humbly beseech Your Majesty to instead bestow it upon this unworthy one.” When they all turned their eyes to see who had spoken, it was Guan Yu’s second son, Guan Xing. Guan Xing stepped forward, prostrated himself upon the ground, shed tears, and continued pleading to the Emperor. “It is my late father who, beneath the earth, truly awaits today’s battle—and my deeds—with watchful eyes. How could you entrust the vanguard’s first unit to someone else? By all means—I humbly beseech you to bestow the vanguard’s role upon me…”

Then Zhang Bao interjected,

“Hear me, Guan Xing! What ability do you possess that you dare seek the vanguard for yourself?” interjected Zhang Bao from the side. Guan Xing smirked confidently, “I have some skill with the bow.”

Guan Xing answered. Zhang Bao also interjected, "In martial arts, I, Zhang Bao, yield to none among men! For I too am a son of Zhang Fei!" He showed no sign of retreating.

Xuande, caught between them, showed a troubled countenance regarding this judgment but declared: "Then let the two of you compete in martial skills. To the superior one I shall bestow the seal and cord." "Then behold!" Zhang Bao declared with fervor. He planted flags three hundred paces away, affixed small red targets atop them, and loosed his arrows—each shaft shattered a crimson mark without a single miss. "Truly you are Zhang Fei's son!"

The crowd sent forth thunderous applause. —Then Guan Xing also next took up a bow and stepped forward,

“Zhang Bao’s archery skills are nothing remarkable! Though it may sound like bravado, behold where my arrow strikes!” he declared, arching his body like a crescent moon as he aimed his fully drawn arrow toward the heavens.

From time to time, the cries of wild geese grazed the clouds. After holding his breath and glaring at the sky for a moment, just as a line of wild geese passed directly overhead, Guan Xing loosed a single arrow with a loud twang of the bowstring. A wild goose, carrying the arrow with its whirring sound, fluttered down to the ground. At the sheer brilliance of it, the civil and military officials raised their voices in unison,

“A hit! A magnificent hit!”

They praised, and the uproar of admiration did not cease for some time.

Zhang Bao became frantic and,

“You there, Guan Xing! Archery alone won’t serve you on the battlefield! Do you even know how to wield a spear?” Zhang Bao bellowed. Guan Xing would not be outdone. He immediately leaped onto his horse and declared, “I may not know much, but here’s a taste!” With that, he brandished his sword and aimed it at Zhang Bao’s head. “What insolence, you impudent whelp!” Zhang Bao roared, gripping his father’s cherished zhang eight spear as he prepared to clash. “Halt! You boys!” Liu Bei reprimanded them from his elevated position.

“You—the ink on your fathers’ mourning garments has barely dried! Why brawl like common footsoldiers?” “Were not your fathers and mine oath-bound in shared blood, their souls knotted as kin?” “Should you mar each other’s flesh—ah, how their spirits beneath the Yellow Springs would wail!”

With a sharp “Hah!”, they discarded their spears, leapt from their horses, and pressed their foreheads to the ground beneath the dais. “From now onward,” Liu Bei declared, “you must emulate the bond shared by your late fathers Guan Yu and Zhang Fei. Let the elder among you be named brother, that your fellowship may rival theirs.” At the Emperor’s decree, both youths bowed deeply and swore unwavering compliance. As Guan Xing exceeded Zhang Bao by one year in age, he assumed the role of elder brother, cementing their fraternal pact. Alarms now blared incessantly—Wu’s forces drew perilously close. Liu Bei appointed the sworn brothers to lead twin vanguard divisions across land and river, while he himself commanded the rear guard. From that day forth, the army advanced in full battle array toward Wu’s borders like an unstoppable tidal surge.

Wu's Diplomacy

1

But before that—

Having hidden Zhang Fei’s head in the bottom of a boat, Fan Jiang and Zhang Da—the two who had fled downstream a thousand li from Shu’s upper reaches with a single sail—later arrived at Wu’s capital Jianye, presented Zhang Fei’s head to Sun Quan, and pledged their future service and loyalty.

“The Shu army of over seven hundred thousand is about to launch an attack on Wu! If you do not dispatch a massive force to the border posthaste, then Liu Bei and the ranks of Shu—burning with years of resentment—will sweep through Jiangnan and Jiangdong like a raging torrent breaching a dam!” they declared in a loud voice.

All who heard this turned pale. Sun Quan, too, had been caught completely off guard, so that very day, he summoned all his ministers and,

“At last, Xuande has rallied Shu’s full strength and attacked with the resolve to stake everything on a single throw.” “I imagine their resentment over Guan Yu’s execution has seeped into their very marrow.” “How can we repel such a ferocious assault?” Even after he finished speaking, no one in the assembly answered for some time. For all present had shuddered to imagine that the enemy’s death-defying resolve was no trivial matter.

Then Zhuge Jin,

“I will stake my life and go as an envoy for peace,” declared Zhuge Jin.

The people gazed at him with sneering eyes. For Zhuge Jin had never once succeeded in a mission he had undertaken. However, even if it ultimately failed, during that time it would soothe the enemy’s impetuous vigor and allow their forces to perfect military preparations. Sun Quan approved. “Yes. First, attempt a peace settlement.” Upon receiving the command, Zhuge Jin immediately instructed the superintendent of the river ships to prepare the sails and sailed up the Yangtze bearing the missive.

It was autumn, the eighth month of the 1st Year of Zhangwu.

At that time, Emperor Xuande of Shu had already advanced with a large army, arrived at Kuizhou Pass (Fengjie, Sichuan Province), established Baidi Castle in that area as his headquarters, and advanced his vanguard forces to the vicinity of the river mouth.

Just then, Zhuge Jin arrived as an envoy from Wu. Xuande had already discerned Wu’s true intentions before even meeting them. However, Huang Quan persisted,

“If we turn them away without granting an audience, the enemy will instead perceive us as narrow-minded.” “Rather, if we use him as a conduit to fully convey our position in return, would this not only clarify the justification for war but also further enhance Your Majesty’s prestige?” So, having urged the meeting, he then had Jin brought before him. Jin prostrated himself and said. “My younger brother Kongming has been serving Your Majesty in Shu for a long time.” “Therefore, my lord Sun Quan, hoping that he might receive somewhat more of Your Majesty’s gracious favor than others, has specially dispatched this unworthy one as an envoy to convey Wu’s sincere intentions.”

“Let us be brief,” said the Emperor, covering his eyes with one hand. “State plainly the purpose of your envoy.” “First,” Zhuge Jin prostrated lower, “I humbly seek Your Majesty’s understanding regarding General Guan Yu’s passing. Wu bears no inherent enmity toward Shu. When Your Majesty took my lord Sun Quan’s sister as consort years past, we in Wu had already resigned ourselves—if Jingzhou were governed by Your Majesty’s forces, it might as well be Wu’s own territory. Yet General Guan Yu, charged with defending those lands, ceaselessly clashed with our representative Lü Meng, churning calm waters into tempests until matters reached this grievous pass.” His voice tightened. “My lord Sun Quan himself laments this outcome deeply. Were it not for Wei’s coercion, he would never have permitted Lord Guan Yu’s execution—a conviction he has voiced repeatedly since that day.”

The Emperor covered his eyes and did not utter a single word.

Zhuge Jin continued speaking further, “Both General Guan Yu’s death and the conflict between Shu and Wu, when examined to their core, amount to nothing more than being manipulated by Wei’s stratagems.” “For two great nations to fight and let Wei reap the fisherman’s benefit would be the very height of folly.” “I implore you to sheathe your spears, restore our former amity, readmit Lady Wu—who has returned to her homeland—back into Shu’s imperial harem once more, and permit us to sustain lasting diplomatic relations as interdependent as lips and teeth.” “My lord Sun Quan desires nothing beyond this—” he persisted, wielding his eloquence in continued persuasion.

2 And still, Xuande maintained complete silence. Zhuge Jin, exerting his lifelong eloquence and wisdom, tried to add one more word. “Your Majesty must have long been aware of this.” “Of Wei’s Cao Pi’s misdeeds.” “Has he not finally deposed the Han Emperor, ascended to the throne himself, and made a hundred million people weep in grief and indignation?” “Now Your Majesty, as a scion of the Han imperial house—if you must seek vengeance, it is Wei you should attack. Without rectifying their crime of usurpation, if you instead turn your war against Wu, the world will mock you as a lord who knows not great righteousness but chases petty vengeance.” “I humbly beseech Your Majesty to deeply consider this matter with your profound wisdom...”

There, Xuande snapped his eyes open and raised a hand to silence Jin’s eloquence. “Envoy of Wu, you have labored in vain.” “Enough.” “Withdraw from this place and return to Wu.” “And firmly inform Sun Quan.” “We shall meet him ere long.” “And tell Sun Quan to wash his neck and await me!” “I—” Overwhelmed by the authority, Jin lowered his head. The clatter of footsteps rang roughly against the throne. When he raised his face, Xuande was no longer there.

Xuande, known for his gentle benevolence and retiring disposition, had never before uttered such bold declarations to an envoy of an enemy state. Jin had gone to such lengths in his efforts but suddenly found himself forced to conclude inwardly: (This is hopeless...) he could not help but think. Moreover, he considered that his younger brother Kongming’s absence from this campaign stood as clear evidence of just how resolute Xuande’s determination was.

Due to his return, Wu felt an even greater shock.

War was now inevitable. An unprecedented decisive battle. Such an atmosphere rapidly swelled.

From both the Yangtze River and the mountains and fields, troops and horses were already being continuously dispatched to the front lines. Amidst this commotion, a man named Zhao Zi, a Grand Master, set out toward Wei.

Of course, this too was undertaken as an envoy of Wu. The tradition of elite cavalry and strong soldiers lay with the northern states, while superior diplomatic talent was the forte of Wu, a southern people. No matter what crisis they faced, they never neglected the ardor and persistence to first attempt diplomatic maneuvers in response to the situation.

“What? So the state of Wu has sent an envoy to present a memorial to Us, or so I hear?” Cao Pi, Emperor of Great Wei, smirked and skimmed through the memorial. Lately seeming to have ample leisure time, Cao Pi had granted an audience to envoy Zhao Zi and proceeded to inquire about various matters. His tone carried half-mockery and half-genuine curiosity as he attempted to probe into Wu’s key figures and internal affairs through casual banter. “Envoy—in one word,” he pressed, “what manner of man is your lord Sun Quan?”

Zhao Zi was a small-statured man with a flattened nose, but he remained resolute, "He is a lord of wisdom, benevolence, intellect, valor, and strategy."

Having answered thus, he then shamelessly met Cao Pi’s gaze head-on, blinking his eyes,

“Your Majesty, why do you deign to chuckle?” he retorted. “Then We find it difficult to refrain from laughing,” “because We marvel that one’s own lord could be so excessively praised.” “This is an unanticipated remark from Your Majesty.” “Why unanticipated?”

“From this humble one’s perspective, being in Your Majesty’s august presence, I believed I had spoken with utmost restraint. If Your Majesty would deign to command me to explain the reason without reserve, I believe I could speak in such a way that Your Majesty would not find it laughable.”

“Speak then—to your heart’s content—of Sun Quan’s greatness.” “It was his discernment that plucked Lu Su, a man of great talent for Wu, from among ordinary men.” “It was his insight that elevated Lü Meng from the ranks of common soldiers.” “It was his benevolence that captured Yu Jin yet spared his life.” “It was his wisdom that allowed him to take Jingzhou without losing a single soldier.” “Occupying the Three Rivers and eyeing the realm with tiger-like ambition—that is his might.” “Bending his knee to submit to Wei—that is his strategy. How can one not call him a lord of discernment, insight, benevolence, valor, and strategy?”

Cao Pi ceased his laughter and looked anew at this small, snub-nosed man.—Wei’s ministers stood aghast at such audacity—that he could boldly declare “bending the knee to serve Wei was strategy”!

Three Cao Pi narrowed his eyes sharply and stared down at him. It appeared he felt that the dignity befitting the Emperor of Great Wei had been violated. Eventually, Cao Pi turned to Zhao Zi and dared to voice these words.

“We are now contemplating in Our heart whether to attack Wu. What say you?”

Zhao Zi struck his forehead and answered.

“Hah. That would be quite all right. If a great nation possesses the might to wage foreign campaigns, then a small nation too has its defenses and stratagems—how could they merely cower in fear?”

“Hmm— ‘So you mean to say the people of Wu never fear Wei?’ ‘We do not excessively fear you, but neither do we take you lightly in the slightest. With our million elite troops, hundreds of warships, and the perilous Three Rivers as our moat, Wu trusts solely in Wu itself.’”

Cao Pi was inwardly astonished. "In the state of Wu, how many people like you exist?" he asked again.

Then Zhao Zi clutched his belly and burst into laughter, "If you mean men of my caliber, you could measure us by the bushel and cart us off by the wagonload," he said.

Finally, Cao Pi sighed three times and lavished praise upon this envoy.

“The saying ‘He who sends envoys to the four quarters without disgracing his sovereign’s command’ might as well have been crafted for this man.” “You there! You there! Fetch wine!”

Zhao Zi had thoroughly proven his mettle. Not only did he receive extraordinary hospitality, but it also appeared that the favorable impression he had made and Wu’s national prestige had deeply captured Cao Pi’s heart, resulting in diplomatic success that exceeded all expectations.

Thus, the Emperor of Great Wei pledged future assistance upon the envoy’s return to his country and, toward Sun Quan, Marquis of Wu,

(enfeoffing him as King of Wu) Then he conferred the honor of the Nine Bestowals and dispatched his subject Xing Zhen, Grand Master of Ceremonies, bearing the seals of authority to Wu alongside Zhao Zi. Since the Emperor himself had decreed it, Wei's courtiers could do nothing—but no sooner had Wu's envoy departed the capital than doubts and lamentations arose from all quarters: "We've been made to swallow bitter medicine by that puny man." Many voiced such sentiments. Liu Ye risked his position to remonstrate with the emperor: "The fact that Wu and Shu now war against each other is truly heaven itself moving to destroy them. Were Your Majesty's forces to advance between Wu and Shu—crushing Wu from within while striking Shu from without—both nations would crumble instantly." "By having too explicitly pledged support to Wu, I humbly believe we have let slip this once-in-a-thousand-years opportunity to our profound regret." "In light of this, Your Majesty should feign support for Wu to sow discord within their ranks while swiftly devising a strategy to attack Shu from another front."

“No, no. That will not do. We would lose the trust of all under heaven.” “Yet by falling prey to Wu’s deception now—bestowing upon him the title of King of Wu and conferring the grave honor of the Nine Bestowals—it is like deliberately giving wings to a tiger! If left unchecked, Wu will grow rapidly powerful, and when future troubles arise, there will be no means to control them.” “He has already sworn fealty to Us. There exists no justification to attack those who do not rebel.”

“That was because Sun Quan’s official rank remained low, being merely General of Agile Cavalry and Marquis of Nanchang. However, once styled King of Wu and separated from Your Majesty by but a single rank, his heart would grow arrogant, his authority would swell, and none could predict what demands he might make. Even should Your Majesty display imperial wrath and dispatch a punitive force, the world would see this and unanimously condemn Wei as coveting Jiangnan’s riches and beauties.”

“Enough!” “For now, keep silent and observe.” “We shall neither aid Shu nor rescue Wu. As the legitimate authority, We will await the time when both sides battle until their strength is exhausted.” “Speak no more.”

If there was indeed such profound foresight behind it all, then what more could be said? Ashamed, Liu Ye withdrew from the presence of the Wei Emperor.

Four

The great diplomatic success and the auspicious news of Sun Quan’s enfeoffment as King of Wu had already been confidentially relayed to Jianye Castle. Before long, word came that Xing Zhen, the Wei imperial envoy, arrived by ship. Sun Quan, who had been eagerly awaiting the envoy’s arrival,

“It would be improper not to go out and welcome them,” he declared, and hurriedly began making preparations.

Jianye too had its share of resolute ministers. Seeing Sun Quan bustling about with an air of excitement, Gu Yong—who had been stewing in resentment since earlier—finally spoke these words.

“There’s no need to go out and receive a mere envoy from Wei. Are you not already the sovereign of Jiangdong and Jiangnan? How could there be any need for you to now gratefully accept another’s official ranks and titles?”

“Now, Gu Yong. That’s a petty way of thinking. Long ago, Emperor Gaozu of Han received a fief from Xiang Yu, but did he not later become the King of Hanzhong? They say it’s all a matter of adapting to the times.”

Accompanied by his officials, Sun Quan exited the gates of Jianye. This was to extend the courtesy of welcoming them by traveling a great distance. Xing Zhen, as the imperial envoy of a superior state, faced this with extreme arrogance. Moreover, he deliberately tried to pass through the city gate without dismounting from his carriage. At this, Zhang Zhao, Wu’s veteran general, became exceedingly enraged,

“Wait!” “Are you a barbarian ignorant of courtesy, or a false envoy?” “Or do you commit this rudeness thinking Wu has no men of worth? Or do you dare such insolence, belittling us as lacking swords?!” he roared. Then, the assembled officials also raised their voices in unison,

“For three generations, Wu has never bowed to another state! Yet we must welcome this insolent envoy and have our lord accept another’s official rank—how mortifying! How unbearable!”

Among them were even those who became so agitated that they let out wails. Xing Zhen hurriedly leapt down from his carriage and offered apologies. Then, facing the assembled officers and soldiers, "Who was it that cried out just now with such a wailing voice?" he inquired. At this, immediately,

“That was me. What of it?” A general stepped forward and announced himself. It was General Xu Sheng. “…It was you.” Xing Zhen once again apologized for his discourtesy to the man and passed through. And secretly in his heart,

He seemed to keenly realize: "Wu must not be underestimated."

However, Sun Quan received the envoy with every courtesy and hospitality. And the title of King of Wu, bestowed in the name of the Emperor of Great Wei, "I humbly and gratefully accept." he accepted it with genuine delight and, on that very day, announced it throughout Jianye Castle, receiving the ceremonial congratulations of his civil and military officials. Xing Zhen was first relieved to see that matters had gone smoothly. And when the day drew near for his return to Wei, the King of Wu hosted a farewell banquet that spared no effort in showcasing Jiangnan's finest and most beautiful aspects, where he heaped a mountain of lavish gifts,

“Kindly take these back with you,” he announced. Even Xing Zhen—thoroughly accustomed to splendor within Great Wei’s palace—found himself involuntarily widening his eyes at the sheer magnitude of the gifts. Pearls, gold and silver, textiles, pottery, rhinoceros horns, tortoiseshell, jade, coral, peacocks, fighting ducks, crowing roosters—there was not a single item that did not number among the seven treasures and hundred rarities of the world. And they were beautifully loaded onto the backs of a hundred white horses with golden saddles and delivered to the guest ships at the riverbank. Later, veteran minister Zhang Zhao reproached the King of Wu as if muttering to himself.

“The Wei Emperor will surely grow arrogant,” said Zhang Zhao. “By any measure, those gifts were excessively lavish. It was too obsequious.” Sun Quan laughed lightly. “No, no—it’s human nature to never know satiety in desire. If they take it first, they likely won’t deem it excessive. In short, we can only bind ourselves to them through profit. But in time, all those gifts will amount to nothing more than roof tiles.”

“I see.”

Zhang Zhao suddenly relaxed his expression and nodded with apparent delight. As a veteran who had served three generations of Wu’s rulers, he must have been tearfully grateful that Sun Quan—once so often dismissed as immature—had now, before he knew it, grown into a man of such profound insight.

All the other assembled ministers also deeply admired Sun Quan's foresight.

This decisive battle.

I

Afterward, Shu’s massive army was stationed in such numbers that they overflowed even Baidi Castle, yet they deliberately refrained from advancing, methodically honed their vigor while intently monitoring the movements in the south and north of the river. At that time, intelligence arrived: “It appears Wu had urgently requested reinforcements from Wei, but Wei had merely bestowed the title of King of Wu upon Sun Quan, while Cao Pi’s stance remained resolutely neutral,” the report stated. “My prediction was not mistaken—Cao Pi seeks to reap the fisherman’s profit.” “Very well, then advance!”

Emperor Xuande resolutely issued his first command there from the command tent. At this juncture, Shamoke of Nanman joined them with tens of thousands of fierce soldiers from his barbarian lands, while Generals Du Lu and Liu Ning of Dongxi also rallied their forces and added their strength. As a result, the entire army's fighting spirit already overwhelmed Wu—the naval fleet advanced to Wushan (Sichuan Province) via waterways, while the land forces reached the vicinity of Zigui (Hubei Province). Against the churning waves of the Yangtze and the war clouds frequently spreading upstream, Wu—

—A national crisis had come.

Though gripped by extraordinary urgency, they maintained a psychological standoff with Wei's maneuvers. At this juncture, Sun Quan swiftly realized how perilous and foolish it was to depend on others. Wei still had not deployed troops. Thus resolved to stake his kingdom in single combat, Sun Quan consulted his ministers—yet the council chamber hung in silent tension, not one soul volunteering to lead this pivotal battle.

Then, from a corner, a man rose and passionately exclaimed. “You have maintained soldiers for a thousand days solely to prepare for a single day’s use.” “Though I am still but a green youth, it is precisely in such times that I wish to repay you, my lord, by applying my bookish strategies with this fighting spirit and sincere loyalty.” “I humbly request that you send me at the very forefront.” When they looked to see who it was, it was Sun Huan—Commander of the Martial Guards and nephew to Sun Quan. He was a young man of a mere twenty-five years of age.

“Ah! My nephew!”

Sun Quan gazed intently and, appearing genuinely pleased, granted his request. "I hear your household also nurtures two courageous generals who could stand against ten thousand men—Li Yi and Xie Jing." "Excellent! Go forth—and I will assign the veteran Tiger Might General Zhu Ran as your vice-general." Thus, the Wu army of fifty thousand hurried to Yidu (Hubei Province). Zhu Ran assumed the position of Right Commander and Sun Huan that of Left Commander; each divided twenty-five thousand troops across both flanks and confronted Shu.

From Baidi Castle through Zigui to Yidu, the Shu army swept through every territory they advanced upon, absorbing surrendered soldiers from each region—their momentum like a typhoon stripping all before it of resistance. "I hear Wu's Sun Huan remains a green-browed young warrior," Guan Xing said. "For this first engagement, I humbly beg you to let me face him in battle."

On the day Emperor Xuande was observing the enemy, Guan Xing made this request. Since there had been a prior instance where they had nearly come to blows over competing for the vanguard, Emperor Xuande—"Take your sworn brother Zhang Bao with you"—permitted it conditionally. Guan Yu’s son and Zhang Fei’s son both leapt with courage, divided their forces, and charged into the Wu army like a black whirlwind. Xuande immediately summoned the two great generals Feng Xi and Zhang Nan.

“This situation is unstable. These are all young men facing their first major campaign. Immediately choose elite soldiers and have them follow behind!”

he commanded. The result was truly a great victory for Shu. As Wu's general Sun Huan was young and this marked his first battle, Guan Xing and Zhang Bao overran every position without leaving a single one unscathed. Moreover, Xie Jing—whom they had relied upon as standard-bearer on both flanks—was cut down by Zhang Bao, while Li Yi, struck by an arrow while fleeing, was cleaved clean in two from behind by Guan Xing's Great Green Dragon Blade. Thus they suffered a crushing defeat. However, Zhang Bao had advanced too deeply into enemy territory. When he realized this and tried to withdraw, Guan Xing was nowhere to be seen. Fearing the worst, he charged even deeper into enemy lines,

“Brother! Brother!”

he called at the top of his voice as he searched. If their spirits existed in the underworld, Father Guan Yu and Father Zhang Fei would have been weeping at the bravery and camaraderie of their two sons.

II

The sun had set over the wilderness, and though the surroundings had grown pitch black, Zhang Bao still had not returned. Guan Xing had also not returned.

“Today’s battle is a great victory for our forces!” Though he heard the voices of officers and soldiers returning in triumph one after another, Emperor Xuande showed no sign of rejoicing. “What has become of those two?” he murmured, standing at the wilderness camp and waiting with desperate longing. At last, the pair returned side by side on their horses. They brought with them a captured enemy commander—Tan Xiong, a renowned fierce warrior of Wu. Guan Xing explained to the Emperor how he had strayed far from his allies while pursuing Tan Xiong alive, finally reuniting with Zhang Bao to return together.

“Both of you are men who do not disgrace your fathers’ names.”

Emperor Xuande praised them, patting both youths' shoulders with his hands. Then they beheaded Tan Xiong, lit a bonfire to honor the spirits of men and horses, and bestowed wine upon all present.

Not only had they suffered a crushing defeat in the opening battle, but even three of their generals had been slain—Sun Huan of Wu was filled with shame. Sun Huan’s forces temporarily withdrew their camp a short distance,

“Until I wash away this disgrace,” he reorganized his defenses; though his forces had lost many soldiers，their fighting spirit burned fiercer than ever. The Shu army gradually bided their time for the next opportunity while— “With their morale as it is，even if we employ the same tactics again，we won’t secure another decisive victory like before.”

Feng Xi, Zhang Nan, Zhang Bao, and Guan Xing all shared the same opinion, so they devised a plan and secretly began preparations. Though Wu’s left-wing land forces had been crushed, their right-wing naval forces stationed along the nearby riverbank remained completely unscathed. One day, the patrol unit along that riverbank captured a Shu soldier and dragged him to the naval commander’s headquarters. “How were you captured?” “I got lost.” “Why did you leave your allies’ camp and wander here?” “Under Commander Feng Xi’s secret orders, about fifty of us came out during the day to lie in wait nearby—tonight we were to set fire to Sun Huan’s camp and launch a night raid. But while transporting oil afterward, I got separated from my unit.”

Upon hearing this testimony, Commander Zhu Ran clapped his hands in delight. “Let’s land our troops ashore to cut off the Shu army’s retreat route as they advance for their night raid,” he declared, “then coordinate with Sun Huan to crush them in a pincer attack.” He immediately prepared a letter and dispatched a messenger to Sun Huan’s camp. However, Shu soldiers lying in ambush along the way cut down that messenger. This was entirely Feng Xi and Zhang Nan’s stratagem—they had anticipated the messenger’s passage beforehand.

Unaware of this, that evening, Zhu Ran raised a large army from the ships and was already preparing to advance. However, General Cui Yu cautioned: "This feels off. To blindly believe the words of a single soldier and launch such an extensive operation is somewhat reckless. Commander, you should remain here to protect the naval forces. I shall go in your stead." Zhu Ran reconsidered, acknowledging this as valid. Restraining himself with the naval forces, he entrusted the strategy to Cui Yu and assigned him less than ten thousand troops.

Just as expected, around the second watch, a fierce blaze erupted from Sun Huan’s camp. Cui Yu had been informed by Zhu Ran during the day about the planned fire attack, but he had not anticipated that the messenger had been cut down en route. “Go reinforce them!” No sooner had they hurried forth than ambushers sprang from the forests and lowlands along the way, as if lying in wait. The ambushing forces were those of Zhang Bao and Guan Xing. Cui Yu was captured alive, and his subordinates suffered heavy losses before retreating in disarray. Zhu Ran panicked and moved the entire fleet downstream fifty or sixty li that very night.

Defeated not once but twice, Sun Huan—his entire camp burned by the enemy—retreated to Yiling Castle (northeast of Yichang in Yidu, Hubei Province) with eyes blazing in bitter frustration. Shu mercilessly pursued them, beheaded Cui Yu, and further demonstrated its might. And the news of these two initial crushing defeats soon cast a pall of gloom over Wu’s capital of Jianye. “Your Majesty, there is no need to distress your heart so greatly. Though few renowned commanders from Wu’s founding remain in this world, we still have over ten capable generals who can be deployed. First summon Gan Ning.”

Elder Zhang Zhao encouraged him.

General Winter

1

Winter arrived. The Shu army, maintaining their front line spanning over seventy li from Wu Gorge through Jianping to Yiling amid continuous victories, ushered in the New Year of the 2nd Year of Zhangwu.

On the day when he bestowed New Year’s wine upon his close retainers, Emperor Xuande was slightly inebriated. "Is that snow...or my graying temples?" Reflecting that he had aged—and that many veteran generals of his command tent too had grown old while enduring the winter campaign—he found heart in this thought: "But with young Guan Xing and Zhang Bao proving their worth, this emperor feels greatly encouraged." Emperor Xuande mused thus.

Then, that same afternoon,

A rumor spread that Huang Zhong had surrendered to Wu with only about ten horsemen. Emperor Xuande smiled at the messenger, “No—Huang Zhong was here this morning.” “He must have mustered his old spirit and charged into Wu.” “My musing was but a thoughtless murmur.” Alas, he too was a seventy-year-old veteran warrior—to let him err would be pitiful. “Guan Xing, Zhang Bao—go rescue him at once!” he commanded. Xuande’s conjecture had not been mistaken. Indeed, Huang Zhong—driven by precisely such sentiments—led a mere ten horsemen and, intending to demonstrate a single strike within enemy territory, passed through their allies’ positions at Yiling along the way.

Feng Xi and Zhang Nan caught sight of him,

“Where are you going, Old General?” they asked.

Huang Zhong resolutely related the Emperor’s musings, “At the New Year’s banquet, the Emperor proclaimed that most in the command tent are aged and few remain of practical use.” “Though I am seventy years old, I still devour ten catties of meat and draw a two-dan bow with this arm! Thus, I shall now give the Wu army a scare to set His Majesty’s heart at ease!” he answered without dismounting.

“Old man.” “That’s reckless!”

Zhang Nan did his utmost to dissuade him. It was as though he were about to say, "That's pouring cold water on an old man's fervor!" He admonished: "By now, Wu's battle formations have completely transformed from last year. They've moved young Sun Huan to the rear while deploying seasoned veterans like Han Dang and Zhou Tai—who recently arrived from Jianye with a massive force—to the front lines. Pan Zhang leads the vanguard, Ling Tong commands the rear guard, and Gan Ning—renowned as Wu's finest tactician—stands ready with a mobile reserve overseeing the entire army. Moreover, their fresh troops number a hundred thousand. What do you intend to accomplish there with just ten horsemen?" they advised before bursting into hearty laughter.

However, Huang Zhong paid no heed. “You lot can sit back and watch,” he declared dismissively before riding off. Zhang Nan and Feng Xi watched him depart with looks of utter disbelief, but— “Well, well—has Death himself possessed him? But we can’t just let him perish—” With this, they frantically dispatched a troop to pursue him. Huang Zhong soon reached the heart of Pan Zhang’s formations within Wu’s army. With only ten horsemen, he had calmly made his way straight to the central army. By the time the sentries, finding this strange, had called for reinforcements, he was already engaged in combat with Commander Pan Zhang.

“To avenge Lord Guan Yu’s grudge, I come alone here on horseback! The one who stands before you is none other than Shu’s foremost veteran—Huang Zhong!” With that, he pressed toward the command tent there and loudly proclaimed his name. The front line remained unchanged; the battle had erupted from within the central army. Pan Zhang’s outer defenses all abandoned their front and gathered toward the center.

At that moment, Zhang Nan’s force arrived to aid Huang Zhong. A moment later, Guan Xing and Zhang Bao came galloping in like a blizzard with thousands of cavalry. The battle descended into chaos, and though Pan Zhang escaped being slain, Shu claimed a decisive victory in the engagement, once again separating the field. “Thank goodness you’re unharmed. Come now, Old General—let us return.” When Zhang Bao, Guan Xing, and the others urged a withdrawal, “Nonsense!” And yet, the old man did not move.

“I will fight again tomorrow. “And the day after that. “Until I’ve slain the wretch who killed Guan Yu…”

And the next day, this warrior over seventy again took the lead in the charge, “Pan Zhang! Show yourself!” he roared, rampaging through every quarter. Yet today, Wu had made preparations. He was driven into treacherous terrain and trapped. When he tried to carve a bloody retreat, stones flew from all sides as a dark whirlwind rose. Then from the right mountain came Zhou Tai, from the left stream Han Dang, and from the rear valley Ma Zhong and Pan Zhang—Wu’s forces sealing his escape routes like mist.

II

Even the valiant Huang Zhong could now do nothing. His body bore several arrows, and his horse had collapsed after being struck by stones. His vigor was spent, his eyes grew dim, “Now it ends,” he resolved, and tried to cut off his own head.

Ma Zhong, Wu’s general, spurred his horse and came rushing down amidst the gravel. As soon as Huang Zhong realized this,

“A companion for the road to death—precisely the foe I sought!”

Summoning death-throes courage, he stood blocking Ma Zhong's path like a vengeful specter. "Do you still cling to that white-haired head of yours?" Huang Zhong gripped the shaft of Ma Zhong's thrusting spear and refused to let go. As the surrounding Wu troops began stirring with commotion, Ma Zhong found himself overwhelmed—instead, Old Huang Zhong wrested away the spear and began driving it through his enemies in furious thrusts. Guan Xing and Zhang Bao had finally realized Huang Zhong was being cornered in these mountains. They came storming in with a rescue assault. Sensing mortal danger, Ma Zhong abruptly abandoned his foe and fled deep into the valley's embrace.

“Old General. You’re safe now.” Though words were spoken close to his ear, Huang Zhong remembered nothing of what happened afterward. When he became aware, he was lying peacefully in his allies’ camp, being nursed by Guan Xing and Zhang Bao.

But then—sensing someone behind him stroking his back—Huang Zhong endured the pain and suddenly turned to look. It was Emperor Xuande.

“Old General. We ask you to forgive Our transgression.” “Ah…” Startled, Huang Zhong tried to sit up, but between the profuse bleeding and his advanced age, his face could only contort in pained agony.

“No, Your Majesty. ...To have served long at the side of a sovereign as virtuous as Your Majesty until this seventy-fifth year—this truly marks the highest blessing granted to one born human. Why should I cling to such a life? Only—I implore you to safeguard your imperial person.”

When he finished speaking, his breath ceased abruptly. Outside the encampment, a blizzard raged, turning daylight into night.

“Ah… Another Tiger has passed away.” “Of the Five Tiger Generals, three have already departed this world.”

On the day his coffin was sent to Chengdu, Xuande stood in the wilderness, gazing up at the gray snowy sky for a long time.

“In that case,” Xuande steeled his own resolve and led the Imperial Forest Army, advancing the frozen imperial banner further to Xiaoting (west of Yidu, Hubei Province).

Unexpectedly, in this vicinity, they engaged in battle with Han Dang’s forces of Wu. Zhang Bao defeated Han Dang’s only remaining subordinate, Xia Xun, while Guan Xing took the head of Zhou Tai’s younger brother, Zhou Ping. The Emperor gazed upon this, "A tiger does not sire a dog," he clapped his hands and marveled. With each battle fought, they advanced—Shu’s forces pressed onward over mountains of corpses and across rivers of blood. The white yak-tail banners and yellow battle-axes guarding the emperor’s seat, even the yellow silk canopies—all had frozen solid, while the crystal bead curtains swayed as if advancing. Gan Ning, who had been commanding Wu’s navy, had been in poor health since departing Jianye, and as winter set in, his chronic ailment tormented him all the more. Though the decline of his allies’ situation was deeply concerning, he had no choice but to withdraw along with the land forces, fleeing on horseback along the riverbank.

Then, along the way, Shu's Nanman troops lying in ambush all rose up at once and launched a fierce assault on them. Since the majority of his army was aboard ships, he had only an extremely small number of subordinates with him. Moreover, the ferocity of the Nanman army's commander Shamoke was akin to that of a demonic fiend or rakshasa, resulting in a great slaughter that left almost no survivors. Gan Ning, already bedridden, had been struck in the shoulder by an arrow shot by Shamoke. He fled alone to Fuchikou (south of Gong'an, Hubei Province), but apparently realizing his end was near, he abandoned his horse beneath a great tree and sat at its roots until finally meeting his end.

February began. In the area around Xiaoting, fierce battles continued to rage. Shu troops had been imbued with an unshakable belief in victory, while Wu soldiers were plagued by a cowardice that clung to them—the certainty that defeat awaited them if they fought. Yet though the entire army had returned victorious from that day's battle and withdrawn, night fell without Guan Xing's return. "Go and look," ordered the Emperor. "This troubles me."

With that, the Emperor instructed Zhang Bao and ordered the other generals to divide their search efforts, remaining awake until deep into the night.

Weiling Dawang

1

Fiercely, relentlessly—forgetting even to return—Guan Xing, who had been pursuing the Wu forces, encountered Pan Zhang, the man who had slain his father Guan Yu, amidst the chaotic army. How could he let him escape?! Chasing the fleeing Pan Zhang, he ended up deep into the mountains. But alas, he had lost sight of his foe and, having lost his way, wandered aimlessly through the dark mountain night.

Seeing light emanating from a mountain dwelling, he stopped to ask for a night's meal and shelter. "Please enter," said an old man, opening the brushwood door to guide him into an inner hall. The moment Guan Xing stepped inside, he gasped and dropped to his knees in prostration. Before him on a modest altar, lamps burned brightly - there enshrined hung a portrait of his late father Guan Yu! "Old man," "What ties bind my father to this house?" "Then Your Lordship must be General Guan's esteemed son."

“Then, as for that Guan Xing—it is I.” “This land was once the territory that General Guan honorably governed. Even during his lifetime, we praised his virtuous deeds and paid homage in every household each morning and evening. How much more so now that he has returned as a divine spirit?”

Having said this, the old man consoled Guan Xing, rejoiced at this miraculous connection, opened a bottle of wine he had stored beneath the floor, and hosted him throughout the night.

Then late at night, there came someone violently pounding on the door from outside,

“Open up!” “Open this door!” “I am Pan Zhang, a general of Wu. I have lost my way and am in distress.” “Lend me the main house until morning!” he shouted as he arrived. Guan Xing stood rooted to the spot, “How strange!”

“This must be my late father’s doing!” he cried, and no sooner had he leapt outside than— “Pan Zhang, my father’s enemy! Do not flee!” he shouted as he grappled with him. Caught off guard, Pan Zhang was pinned down and finally had his head severed. Guan Xing rejoiced, tied the head to his horse’s saddle, bade farewell to the old man, and departed.

Then, from the direction of the foothills, Pan Zhang’s subordinate Ma Zhong came up. When he looked, he saw a young warrior descending with his master’s head tied to the saddle. Moreover, what he held in his arms was none other than the famous Green Dragon Crescent Blade that Guan Yu had cherished—the very blade his master Pan Zhang had been awarded by the King of Wu for his merit in slaying Guan Yu. “You there! What knave are you?!” With his hair bristling in rage, Ma Zhong lunged into the attack. Guan Xing roared as he met the assault, recognizing another fragment of his father’s vengeance, and fought with every ounce of his strength.

At that moment, a troop of cavalry came up, brandishing flaming torches. It was an army led by Zhang Bao, who had come in search of Guan Xing under Xuande’s orders. “A mighty enemy!” With that cry, Ma Zhong fled. Zhang Bao and Guan Xing returned hand in hand to their allies’ main camp, had an audience with the Emperor, and presented Pan Zhang’s head.

Since the commencement of battle, the Wu army had suffered defeat after defeat. Now, having also lost Pan Zhang, a certain atmosphere began to pervade among their ranks—

“We can’t possibly match Shu.” An air of this sentiment began to drift through their ranks. Originally, this army contained many Jingzhou soldiers who had previously abandoned Guan Yu and surrendered to Lü Meng of Wu; and so, even before engaging in battle, they harbored a certain dread toward the Emperor of Shu, with a significant number among them holding divided loyalties.

Those soldiers, seizing upon the weakness from this unbroken chain of defeats, huddled together whispering: “The Emperor of Shu despises none other than Mi Fang and Fu Shiren—the two who betrayed Shu and sold General Guan to the enemy. If we take their heads to present at the Shu Emperor’s camp, he will surely grant us substantial rewards.” Their murmurs began to show signs of unrest. Mi Fang and Fu Shiren, sensing peril to their lives, conferred urgently: “We cannot afford complacency. A revolt might erupt among our own ranks at any moment. The Emperor’s true hatred must lie with Ma Zhong instead. Should we take Ma Zhong’s head now and go repent before the Shu Emperor, there can be no doubt of his forgiveness.” That very night, they slew Ma Zhong in his sleep.

After conferring, before their own heads could be taken, they slew Ma Zhong in his sleep that very night. And no sooner had they taken the head than they deserted and fled into Shu’s camp.

Two

When Emperor Xuande saw Mi Fang and Fu Shiren prostrate at his feet, his face turned as fierce as an enraged dragon’s as he berated them. “Loathsome subhuman wretches! How dare you show your faces here?” “Once in dire straits, you sold Guan Yu to Wu; again in dire straits, you betrayed Wu and came bearing Ma Zhong’s head.” “The vileness of your hearts, the depravity of your deeds—even calling you dogs or beasts would be too kind.” “If I were to forgive you, it would bring ruin to the martial houses of a hundred generations, and the righteous principles of this world would fester in the mud.” “Moreover, before Lord Guan’s spirit, I absolutely cannot let you live. —Guan Xing, Guan Xing! I entrust these two enemies to you.” “Behead them and offer their heads to your father’s spirit.”

Guan Xing leapt about like a sparrow,

“Thank you most kindly.” Then, grabbing both men by their collars with both hands, he dragged them before Guan Yu’s spirit altar, cut off their heads, and offered them there.

In contrast to his joy at having achieved his heart's desire, Zhang Bao stood dejected and alone. The Emperor, discerning his state of mind,

“Though I have yet to bring solace to your departed father,” he declared, “when we storm Wu’s domain and press upon Jianye’s walls, I shall not rest until Zhang Fei’s vengeance is fulfilled.” “Zhang Bao,” he consoled, “do not despair.” Yet unbeknownst to them, those very perpetrators Fan Jiang and Zhang Da had already been shackled in chains, confined to a cage cart dispatched from Wu’s Jianye, and paraded before commoners at every post station along the route.

The reason was as follows:

Amid the relentless stream of defeat reports, within Wu’s Jianye, peace advocacy had surged abruptly from a faction of senior ministers long perceived as conservative stalwarts. The faction’s position held that,

(Originally, Shu had sought alliance with Wu. That Shu now mobilized the entire nation's enmity to attack in this manner stemmed from wrath toward Lü Meng, Pan Zhang, Fu Shiren, Mi Fang, and others—but all those men had perished. Only two remained: Fan Jiang and Zhang Da. Yet Wu had not an ounce of reason to pay such exorbitant costs for such men. They ought to swiftly apprehend those two and return them to Shu's camp alongside Zhang Fei's head. —Should we restore Jingzhou's territory to Xuande, send Lady Sun back to her rightful chambers, and formally petition for peace through official missives, the Shu army would immediately lower its banners. Thus would Wu avoid any further erosion of prestige in the realm. Were matters left to their present course, none could predict whether we might ultimately witness Shu's battle standards unfurled beneath Jianye's very walls.)

Such was their reasoning. Of course, the main war faction’s vehement arguments were refuted as fiercely as flames, but ultimately—as each day they fought made Wu’s territory appear increasingly perilous—Sun Quan too ended up giving his agreement to the proposal. Thus, they dispatched Cheng Bing as an envoy to present a letter and proceed to Xiaoting. Thus he—accompanied by the two vile men, Fan Jiang and Zhang Da, whom he had brought imprisoned in a cage cart—sealed Zhang Fei’s head, preserved in salt within an aloeswood casket crafted from choice timber, and together presented them before Emperor Xuande of Shu.

Xuande accepted this. And the two vile men, “I shall give them to the filial son.”

With that, he entrusted them to Zhang Bao. Zhang Bao struck his forehead and, “This must be Heaven’s gift!” He leapt forward, opened the iron door of the cage cart, dragged them out one by one, and slaughtered them as if butchering wild beasts.

And, offering the two heads to his father’s spirit, he wailed at the top of his voice. Cheng Bing, the envoy of Wu, gazed upon this and shuddered with horror.

Xuande remained silent. Thereupon, Cheng Bing, "My lord declares his earnest hope that we may return Lady Wu to her original chambers and renew lasting friendship between our lands."

Cheng Bing urged a reply.

Xuande clearly rejected that obsequious diplomacy. And,

“Our aspirations shall not be confined to such trifling matters. We shall conquer Wu, subdue Wei, manifest a single paradise across the realm, and follow in the footsteps of Emperor Guangwu’s Restoration,” he proclaimed clearly.

A scholar

1. Cheng Bing hurriedly withdrew back to Wu as though fleeing.

As a result, another grand council convened within Jianye’s walls. The ministers and Wu generals, now recognizing anew Shu’s unrelenting resolve, filled the hall with a ghastly air and trembling terror that none could conceal.

“Gentlemen,” Kan Ze addressed them. “What is there to fear? Wu has been fortunate enough to produce a great talent who could be called a pillar of our state. Why do you esteemed members not recommend this man as king in such times and thereby strive to destroy Shu?” At that moment, someone proposed this from among the seats—Kan Ze, whose style name was De Run.

Sun Quan suddenly brightened his eyes,

“I had not known such a man of great caliber existed within my Wu,” declared Sun Quan. “Now we stand at life-or-death crossroads. Should there truly dwell in obscurity a talent capable of reviving Wu’s fortunes—I would take off their sandals myself to welcome them.” His gaze pierced Kan Ze as he demanded, “Name this man.”

Kan Ze answered him,

“It is none other than Lu Xun, who is currently in Jingzhou.” At this declaration, the council chamber erupted into an uproar, and even voices of derision were heard. “……?” Sun Quan tilted his head.

The council members murmured criticisms in an uproar. And even senior ministers like Zhang Zhao and Gu Yong wore bitter smiles as they voiced their opposition one after another. "The men revered as pillars of Wu began with Lord Zhou Yu, followed by Lord Lu Su who inherited this role, and until recently, with Lord Lü Meng—all affairs of state were entrusted to him, trusted by the people." "Yet now that Lü Meng too has perished, with the entire nation anguished by this crisis, their reverence and longing for these departed heroes burns fiercely. But not a single soul would look upon Lu Xun—a mere untested scholar—and deem him a heroic guardian of the realm." "What delusion has seized Kan Ze?"

When Zhang Zhao spoke, Gu Yong also added, “Lu Xun is at his core a bookish scholar with no military aptitude whatsoever.” “He’s young and timid like every other Confucian pedant. Even through the most rose-tinted lens, you couldn’t call him exceptional. If we appoint him, our generals will never heed his commands.” “When commanders disobey their leader, disorder brews.” “Using him to crush Shu? That’s a drunken fool’s delusion!”

Gu Yong delivered a scathing denunciation. There were many other opponents, but Sun Quan dismissed all their objections, “Summon Lu Xun,” he commanded, and immediately dispatched a fast horse to Jingzhou to convey the order. What compelled him to make that decisive decision was Kan Ze’s—

"If my words prove false, you may take my head." Though Kan Ze had shouldered all blame and striven to recommend Lu Xun even to the point of staking his life, what truly swayed Sun Quan's heart were the words of praise that the deceased Lü Meng had bestowed upon Lu Xun during his lifetime—and furthermore, "If Lü Meng had deemed someone worthy enough to appoint as his own replacement to guard Jingzhou's borders," he reasoned, "then even if that person were young, they must surely possess some merit." Lu Xun, in response to the summons, urgently returned to Jianye and had an audience with the King of Wu. And when Lu Xun was asked by the King of Wu, "Having received this great responsibility, do you have the confidence to meet it?" he—

“As this is a time of national survival, I should not decline; therefore, I humbly accept this great command.” After implicitly conveying confidence through his words, he continued: “Since Your Majesty has personally deigned to bestow this great command, this alone suffices. Yet I earnestly entreat you to summon all civil and military commanders for a solemn investiture ceremony, after which you might grant your servant the sword of authority.”

Sun Quan consented. Thereupon, at the northern courtyard of Jianye Castle, they worked through day and night to erect a platform, arrayed the hundred officials, stationed ritual officers and musicians, and had Lu Xun ascend the dais. Then King of Wu Sun Quan personally bestowed the sword and entrusted all ceremonial regalia—the white yak-tail banner, yellow battle-axe, seal and ribbon, military tallies—declaring: "I now appoint you as Grand Commander Protector-General and General Who Guards the West, conferring upon you the title of Marquis of Lou." "Henceforth, you shall assume supreme command over all military forces in the Six Commanderies and Eighty-One Prefectures, together with Jingzhou's various routes." Thus did he vest Lu Xun with supreme authority.

Two

When news spread that Lu Xun had been newly appointed as supreme commander to take command of the battlefield, the generals stationed at Wu's various front-line positions expressed intense dissatisfaction, voicing their complaints one after another: "What utter nonsense is this—appointing that yellow-mouthed brat as Grand Commander Protector-General?"

“Do you truly believe that scholarly weakling can command an army?” “The King of Wu’s decree defies comprehension." “This must stem from some conspiracy among his inner circle.” There were even those who already spoke of Wu’s total collapse. It was at this juncture that Lu Xun arrived to assume command. He assembled the military forces from Jingzhou’s various routes, incorporated new generals like Ding Feng and Xu Sheng, and arrayed fresh, imposing banners at headquarters. Yet the veteran commanders stationed across positions remained defiant, proudly displaying no intention to submit. Not a soul came forward to offer congratulations.

Lu Xun showed not the slightest sign of concern. Marking the days, he issued a notice: “You are to assemble for a military council.” On that day, standing upon a raised command platform before the generals who had reluctantly gathered below him, he declared: “When I departed from Jianye, His Majesty the King of Wu personally bestowed upon me the precious sword and seal, decreeing: ‘Within the palace threshold, the king governs affairs; beyond it, the general commands.’ Should any among your subordinates disrupt order, you are to execute them first and report afterward—these were His Majesty’s exact words. I was moved to tears by this profound trust and assumed this post without a moment’s thought for my own safety.”

Having first expressed a part of his convictions and crushed one of the baseless delusions among his allies, he then— “In the military, there are always laws.” “It is said that royal law knows no kin.” “I expect each unit to observe military discipline with even greater strictness.” “If you refuse to comply, I will slay the traitors within our ranks before we even engage the enemy!” he declared with forceful finality. The generals remained silent, their faces sullen as they turned away. Then Zhou Tai, one of the dissatisfied faction, stepped forward slightly and called up to the command platform.

“Our King of Wu’s nephew Sun Huan—who had been enduring desperate battles at the front lines—has now been besieged within Yiling Castle for some time. Within, provisions are exhausted; without, Shu troops block all paths.” “Now that you, Grand Commander, have assumed command at this fortunate juncture, we implore you to swiftly devise an ingenious stratagem to first rescue Sun Huan—thereby securing His Majesty’s will and uplifting our army’s morale. May we inquire: does the Grand Commander possess such a grand design?”

Lu Xun hardly considered it an issue. "A single castle like Yiling is but a peripheral concern. Moreover, Sun Huan is skilled at utilizing his subordinates; they will surely pool their strength and defend resolutely. Even if we do not rush to rescue them, there is no concern that the castle will fall. Rather, what I aim to destroy lies at the core of the Shu army. If the enemy's core crumbles, then places like Yiling will naturally break free from their encirclement."

Upon hearing this, all the generals burst into scornful laughter. "As expected—this man has no plan," they whispered contemptuously among themselves as they dispersed. As for Han Dang and Zhou Tai, "If we have such a Grand Commander above us, we can only meet ruin!" they exclaimed, their faces turning pale with anger. Then the next day, in the name of the Grand Commander, to each department, "Hold your positions firmly; do not dare to advance. Even if a single soldier ventures out to fight, this too is forbidden." A military order was issued.

“Ridiculous!” “We can’t stay silent any longer!” The generals, with eyes narrowed in resentment and discontent, stormed into the Grand Commander’s headquarters to lodge their protests.

“We came here to fight,” they protested. “We’ve already staked our lives on this campaign. Yet you order us to fold our hands and await destruction—what strategy is this? Surely our King of Wu never appointed you with such a passive mandate!” When Han Dang, Zhou Tai, and others at the forefront voiced vehement opposition, Lu Xun gripped his sword. “Though I am but a mere scholar,” he declared, “I issue these commands in the King of Wu’s stead! Should any raise further objections—be they who they may—I will execute them to uphold military law!”

he rebuked them in a voice charged with vigor.

III

The generals fell silent. Fearfully, they all returned. Yet not a single one submitted to Lu Xun. In fact, compared to when they had arrived, they now harbored even greater resentment within— “That greenhorn scholar—once he suddenly gains power, he probably can’t help but strut around like that.” On their way back, each of them crudely exchanged mockery along those lines. During this time, the Shu grand army—their morale ever higher—constructed over forty encampments and fortifications across the vast region stretching from Xiaoting to the river mouth. By day, their banners rivaled the clouds; by night, their bonfires scorched the heavens.

“I hear Wu’s commander-in-chief has been replaced by someone called Lu Xun—a man I’ve never heard of. Does anyone know him?” On the day reports arrived about restructuring within the enemy’s forces, the Emperor of Shu promptly questioned his attendants.

The one who answered was Ma Liang. “The enemy has appointed a resolute individual.” “Lu Xun is a scholar from Jiangdong and still young, but I have heard that even Lü Meng of Wu revered him as a teacher and never treated him as a mere scholar.” “A man of profound talent and far-reaching plans—one whose depths are unfathomable.”

“With such talent and strategy, why has Wu not employed him until today?” “Perhaps even his close friends never realized he possessed such capabilities. Though Lü Meng showed exceptional discernment by employing him early—and while history attributes Wu’s assault on Jingzhou and Guan Yu’s utter defeat to Lü Meng’s ingenious tactics—in truth, all sprang from Lu Xun’s stratagems.” “Then Lu Xun is the true architect behind my sworn brother’s death!”

“You could say that.” “Why did you not inform me sooner? Had I known he was such a sworn enemy, I would never have permitted him to flaunt himself before my banners for even a single day. Advance the troops at once.” “First, I humbly urge Your Majesty to deliberate deeply on this matter. Lu Xun’s abilities are not inferior to Lü Meng’s, nor do they fall short of Zhou Yu’s.” “Do you dare suggest that my military stratagems cannot rival even those of a greenhorn youth?”

Ma Liang knew no further words with which to admonish. Emperor Xuande ordered his generals to advance the encampments. The Wu camp, which had hitherto lacked cohesion, could no longer afford to indulge in private disputes and personal grievances now that they were confronted with Shu’s ferocious battle formations at close quarters. Suddenly united, they gathered at the headquarters’ tent and sought instructions on how to counterattack from Lu Xun’s brow.

“Maintain the current defensive positions. Do not act recklessly.” “That is all.”

Lu Xun, having said that much,

“Ah. That mountain top—isn’t that Han Dang’s post? Their vigor is excessive.”

Perhaps feeling uneasy, he himself spurred his horse and galloped there. And then,

“Han Dang.” “Do not rashly descend the mountain.” Just as he was about to charge down toward the enemy lines with his troops arrayed in order, Lu Xun pressed forward to stop him.

Han Dang became enraged, “Grand Commander! Do you not see? That yellow silk canopy fluttering in the field marks precisely where the Emperor of Shu has stationed his command post. To cower within our defenses while witnessing this before our very eyes—we might as well abandon warfare altogether!” “Failing to perceive the enemy’s hidden stratagems and judging by mere appearances—your conclusion is understandable,” Lu Xun countered. “But a commander of Liu Bei’s stature would never position himself so openly before Wu’s lines without deeper design. Do not foolishly cast our soldiers into his trap through shallow recklessness.” “Fortunate indeed that we face this trial beneath midsummer’s scorching skies. By holding our positions without engagement, we let them waste their strength daily under the open plains’ blistering sun. Thirst will parch them; eventually they must withdraw to shaded forests.” “When that hour comes, I shall sound the order and unleash our generals’ fury. This too serves Wu’s cause, General. I implore you—keep cool winds within your breast and laugh as we watch their blind provocations.”

Since not a single unit along the entire front was moving, Han Dang also had no choice but to clench his fists and remain still, exactly as Lu Xun had commanded.

The Shu army relentlessly hurled insults and taunts, ceaselessly provoking Wu’s fury.

Baidi Castle

1. Attempting to lure the enemy through insults and mockery to provoke their rage had long been obsolete as military strategy. The Shu Army intentionally displayed laxity in their decoy formations, deployed feeble troops at the forefront, and daily concocted new enticements—yet Wu remained entrenched like an earthbound dragon, never venturing a single pace beyond their fortifications.

It was an open plain without even a single tree's shade. The nights were bearable, but the daytime heat withered the grass and made the very soil seem to burn. They had to fetch water from distant sources, sick soldiers multiplied endlessly, morale plummeted, and all order collapsed. "This won't do," declared Emperor Xuande. "We shall relocate our encampments—to some cool mountain shade or watered valley." At last, the emperor could no longer delay issuing this command.

Then Ma Liang cautioned, “If we retreat with this entire army all at once, it would be disastrous.” “We will certainly suffer Lu Xun’s pursuit!” “Do not worry. By leaving feeble old soldiers as the rear guard to feign defeat and retreat—if the enemy grows emboldened and gives chase—I myself will lie in ambush with elite troops and strike them down.” “Should the enemy sense a stratagem at play, they will not recklessly pursue us far.” The generals praised this as nothing less than the Emperor’s divine stratagem. Yet even after hearing this explanation, Ma Liang still wore an uneasy expression,

“Recently, Zhuge Kongming has been coming out to Hanzhong during lulls in managing the home front, urgently reinforcing various strategic strongholds.” “As Hanzhong lies not far from here, would it not be prudent to swiftly draft maps of our current terrain and formations, dispatch them to him, and first humbly seek the Military Advisor’s counsel? If he deems it advisable, would it still not be timely to relocate our encampments afterward?”

and still wore an expression that wanted to stop him. Xuande smiled and,

“I am not ignorant of military strategy. Why should I consult Kongming about every detail when leading this expedition? However, since he happens to be in Hanzhong at this time, you shall go to inform him of my current situation and describe the state of the battle. Should he have any counsel, hear it and bring word back to me.”

With that, he ordered Ma Liang to undertake that mission. Ma Liang received the order and proceeded to meticulously document everything from the deployments of both allies and enemies to the terrain. When drawn on paper, it formed a battle formation known as *shishi haddō*—a configuration spanning four cardinal directions and eight strategic routes.

The next day.

The Wu scouts rushed down from a mountaintop like a rolling ball, “The large Shu army has begun moving their encampments one after another toward the distant mountain forests.”

The report was urgently delivered before Han Dang and Zhou Tai.

“Ah!” “I see.” And so, the two of them once again spurred their horses to Grand Commander Lu Xun’s encampment, “We have just received a report of such-and-such,” they reported. At this moment, Lu Xun’s face—like one who sees rain clouds in a parched sky—revealed an indescribable joy in his brightened brows.

“Ah! I see!” “I see!”

“Grand Commander! Issue the pursuit order to the entire army at once!” “No—wait. Come with me.” They lined up their horses and galloped to high ground. As if distrusting mere reports as grounds for action, he surveyed the wilderness with his own eyes. “...Truly splendid.”

Lu Xun exclaimed in admiration. They say retreating requires greater skill than advancing. Now that he looked, Shu’s large army had already withdrawn as if swept away. And before Wu’s battle lines, a single rear guard unit—numbering less than ten thousand—remained.

“Damn it! They say military opportunities pass in an instant, yet hasn’t the Grand Commander’s leisurely pace once again caused us to miss the perfect moment? In that case, unless you allow Han Dang and me to annihilate even just those ten thousand, we will not rest!” As Zhou Tai stamped his feet and spoke, Lu Xun suppressed even that,

“No—I bid you wait three more days.”

With that, he raised his whip and pointed in an unrelated direction, deliberately ignoring the two men's impassioned words.

Two Zhou Tai resentfully, “Because we missed a single moment and lost this chance for victory, what in the world will happen if we wait three more days?” Zhou Tai turned sideways as if to say dealing with this was utterly absurd and spat on the ground. However, Lu Xun still held his whip aloft, pointing into the distance,

“In that valley—in the shadows of those distant mountains—there lies a sinister murderous aura.” “I believe it must be Shu’s ambush.” “By leaving behind such a feeble rear guard of ten thousand old soldiers while their main force retreats far away—this is undoubtedly a transparent scheme to lure us in,” he explained. Then he strictly forbade all from launching an attack and returned to his headquarters. “What cowardice!” “It’s textbook military theory from some scholar… Good grief…” The people mocked Lu Xun’s cowardice and—resigned to a battle that could only end as it would—half-heartedly remained at their posts.

Perhaps seizing on this opening, Shu’s veteran soldiers before Wu’s battle lines deliberately removed their armor to nap in broad daylight, made a show of yawning widely, and hurled endless insults— “Come out! You won’t dare!” —they kept taunting.

“We can’t endure this any longer!” On the third day, Zhou Tai, Han Dang, and the other generals once again crowded into Lu Xun’s presence—but Lu Xun still refused to yield,

“Indulging in the reckless valor of common warriors is hardly any of your duties,” he held them back with a bitter expression. Zhou Tai snapped confrontationally, “If the Shu forces fully withdraw far away, what will you do?”

he pressed on. Lu Xun, with a single word, “That is precisely what I desire—there could be no greater joy,” he said. The people laughed heartily. No wonder—if that was their sole wish, it was only natural. They clapped their hands right before his eyes, exclaiming in utter exasperation, “Oh Grand Commander!”—such was the scene. Then, once again, a general from the scouting party arrived there and— “Early this morning, under heavy frost, ten thousand of the enemy’s old soldiers retreated unnoticed from their rear guard position and vanished. Shortly after, approximately seven to eight thousand Shu forces emerged from the valley floor. Surrounding a yellow silk canopy, they were seen leisurely withdrawing into the distance,” reported the scout.

“Ah! That’s Xuande himself! We let him slip away!” “We’ve let him slip away!” The generals once again lamented their frustration, but Lu Xun placated them by offering the following interpretation. “Xuande is a hero of his generation. “No matter how fiercely each of you may gnash your teeth, as long as he maintains his proper battle formations, they cannot be broken. “However, maintaining such an extended battle line under this scorching heat—with soldiers falling ill one after another and morale growing lax—they could no longer sustain it. Thus, they relocated their encampment to the riverside. Yet even in doing so, they devised an elaborate scheme: deliberately leaving behind a feeble army of veterans to bait us, while Xuande himself mustered his elite forces and concealed them in the valley. “However, though they waited three days, our Wu army did not move, so at last they lost patience and departed.—The favorable winds gradually shift to our advantage. Mark my words, gentlemen—within ten days at most, this time the Shu army will surely meet its fragmented demise.”

The generals listened dismissively, their expressions saying, "Here we go again." In particular, Han Dang seethed with resentment, sneering, "I see. Our Grand Commander is truly a splendid theorist." Paying no heed to those men, Lu Xun immediately drafted a single letter intended to be presented to the King of Wu, Sun Quan. In that letter, he had written: "The total annihilation of the Shu army is near. Your Majesty and all the lords within Jianye’s walls may now rest assured with pillows laid high."

The Shu army began shifting its main force to naval operations. On land routes lay Xiaoting's strategic stronghold and Lu Xun's formidable battle line. With both fronts stubbornly holding their ground and days being wasted in stalemate, Liu Bei started growing impatient. It became clear he was determined to push deep into Wu's heartland and force a decisive confrontation with Sun Quan, King of Wu. Whether driven by this resolve or not, Shu's warships had been streaming down the Yangtze these past few days - driving Wu forces from every riverside position only to immediately construct water bases in their wake.

III

The outbreak of war between Shu and Wu delighted Wei. Wei’s intelligence agency was now demonstrating its highest level of activity.

Cao Pi, Emperor of Great Wei, looked up at the sky and laughed. “Shu is pouring effort into their naval forces, advancing over a hundred *li* daily toward Wu—but Xuande’s final hour draws near.”

The courtiers inquired suspiciously. "By what reasoning does Your Majesty make such a statement?" "Can you not see? The Shu army has already established over forty encampments on land and now advances several hundred *li* along water routes. When deploying their vast forces along this serpentine eight-hundred-*li* front, even Shu's seven hundred fifty thousand troops would become dangerously thin. Moreover, by leaving Lu Xun's formations untouched while thrusting out through waterways, Xuande should be said to have reached the limits of his fortune. As the ancient saying goes—'Encamping amidst thickets and plains is a military strategist's taboo.' He has indeed violated that taboo. Mark my words—Shu will soon meet catastrophic defeat."

But the courtiers still could not fully believe him; instead, they feared Shu’s momentum, “Is not preparing defenses at the border of utmost importance?” they said, but Cao Pi flatly denied it— “If Wu defeats Shu, they will ride that momentum and pour into Shu. Now is the time for our forces to seize Wu!” he declared, mapping out the situation as if tracing lines on his palm. He then granted one army to Cao Ren and sent him toward Ruxu, assigned another army to Cao Xiu and hurried him to the Dongkou front, and gave a third army to Cao Zhen to dispatch to Nanjun. By thus observing Wu from three fronts and keeping them solely on standby, he indeed proved himself a man who had inherited Cao Cao’s blood.

×　　　　　×　　　　　×

Ma Liang of Shu arrived in Hanzhong. At that time, Kongming was in Hanzhong. “It was His Majesty’s command that if you have any counsel, I should come and receive it.” “Our army stretches over eight hundred *li*—following the river and anchoring itself to the mountains—having now established more than forty encampments. Our vanguard advances ceaselessly downstream by boat toward Wu.”

He took out the map he had copied himself and provided a detailed report on the battle situation. As though biting back a curse, Kongming struck his knee and lamented. "Oh no! Who recommended such a strategy?" "This is not a matter for others to interfere with. This battle formation was devised by His Majesty himself."

“Hmm… Has the Han dynasty’s mandate already expired?” “Why does Your Excellency appear so despondent?” “First: Attacking downstream with the current proves simple; retreating upstream against the waters becomes arduous.” “Second: Establishing encampments amidst dense thickets violates every military strategist’s taboo.” “Third: Our overextended front lines now lack concentrated strength.” “Therefore—Ma Liang! You must race back to the battlefield at once.” “Report my counsel to His Majesty: With utmost urgency, admonish him to avert calamity.”

“And if His Majesty were to suffer defeat at the hands of Lu Xun’s forces in the meantime?” “No, no. Lu Xun will not pursue deeply—for he cannot be unaware that Wei lies in wait for opportunity. Should matters become urgent, you must escort His Majesty into Baidi Castle. Years ago when I entered Shu, I stationed a hundred thousand troops in ambush at Yufupu there for future needs. If Lu Xun carelessly gives chase, he will find himself captured alive.”

“As for Yufupu, I’ve passed through it many times but never seen a single soldier there.” “You’re lying about what you just said.” “No—you’ll understand in time.” After drafting a chapter, Kongming returned to Chengdu while Ma Liang galloped back to the Wu battlefield.

×　　　　　×　　　　　×

Lu Xun of Wu had already begun to act. The moment had arrived: dividing his various armies, he first moved to encircle Shu's Jiangnan Fourth Army. This position was defended by Shu general Fu Tong. For the night attack against it, Wu's Ling Tong, Zhou Tai, Han Dang, and others all clamored to lead the vanguard, but Lu Xun appeared to have his own considerations,

“I order Chunyu Dan.” Specifically appointing Chunyu Dan, he granted him five thousand cavalry and dispatched Xu Sheng and Ding Feng as rear support.

4 Specially chosen for the honor of leading a surprise attack, Chunyu Dan had assaulted Shu’s Fourth Army that night. However, repelled by unexpected Nanman reinforcements and enemy general Fu Tong’s martial valor, he not only suffered heavy losses but was barely rescued from death’s brink by the rear-support armies of Ding Feng and Xu Sheng, managing to return. “I have brought shame upon myself,” he said. “Please judge my defeat according to military law.” Without even removing the arrows piercing his entire body, he appeared before Lu Xun to offer his apology.

“It is not at all your fault.” Lu Xun did not blame him. Rather, he claimed it was his own fault, “Indeed, last night’s surprise attack was nothing more than using Chunyu Dan to probe Shu’s true capabilities.” “However, because of that, I have discerned how to crush Shu.”

Xu Sheng promptly questioned. “If we repeat what happened last night, we’ll only needlessly lose troops.” “What is this method to destroy them?”

“At present, there is no one in all under heaven who knows this besides Kongming.” “Fortunately, Kongming is not present on this battlefield.” “This is heaven granting me success.” He summoned the conch blowers and had them sound their shells. Officers and soldiers of all ranks from every camp immediately gathered before him at this signal. Thereupon, Lu Xun stood upon the military command platform and issued a grand order to all his generals. “We have not fought for over a hundred days; heaven has not sent rain for over a month.” “The time is now ripe—all advantages of heaven, earth, and man lie with us!” “First, Zhu Ran shall load ships with thatch and similar materials, proceed onto the river, and await the wind—likely around after noon tomorrow, a southeastern gale will begin to churn the waves.” “When the wind rises, close in on the enemy positions north of the river, hurl sulfur and saltpeter, and burn their encampments to ashes with the wind.—Han Dang will lead another force to land on the northern shore simultaneously.” “Zhou Tai, attack the southern bank of the river.” “The remaining forces shall await my directives as circumstances demand.” “Thus, before tomorrow night passes, Liu Bei’s life will fall into Wu’s grasp.” “Now—advance!”

Since his appointment as Grand Commander, this marked the first time such proactive orders had been issued. Zhu Ran, Han Dang, Zhou Tai, and others all eagerly set about preparing. True to expectations, around noon the following day, wind and waves began to churn across the river. At that very moment, the banner that had been flying high above Shu’s central army snapped. “What omen does this signify?”

As Liu Bei furrowed his brows, Cheng Ji respectfully replied.

“This has long been said to portend a night attack.”

Then, a general stationed to watch the riverbank arrived and reported. “Since last night, countless ships have been drifting on the river, yet they have not departed despite the wind and waves.”

Liu Bei nodded, “I am already aware of that. It must be a decoy tactic. Until orders are given, strictly forbid any reckless movement and maintain strict vigilance among the naval forces.”

Next came another report. "A segment of Wu's forces appears to be shifting ever eastward."

“They’re clearly trying to bait us.” “The time to act has not yet come.”

As dusk approached, smoke began to rise from the encampments north of the river. While they watched, thinking it might be an accidental fire, another blaze erupted from an encampment slightly downstream. "This fierce wind makes me uneasy," Liu Bei remarked. "Guan Xing, go and inspect the area." Even when night came, the fires showed no sign of dying down. No—not only the northern bank, but fires had also broken out on the southern bank. Liu Bei immediately sent Zhang Bao rushing to provide emergency relief. "It’s a suspicious fire." The night sky grew increasingly scorched a vivid crimson. Was it the roar of waves or the screams of men? A ferocious gale whipped up spray and hurled sand through the air.

“Ah! Ah! The fire’s reached near the main camp!” “It’s even near the main camp—”

Someone suddenly screamed. The parched leaves had begun to smolder. This came from the forest right beside where Emperor Xuande’s camp stood. “Look out!”

As his headquarters descended into chaos, figures indistinguishable as friend or foe darted frantically through the smoke in all directions. “Enemies! Wu soldiers!” “Wu soldiers!”

Before Liu Bei’s eyes, an intense battle erupted. He was surrounded by his men and hoisted onto his horse. However, as he fled from there to his ally Feng Xi’s position, flames caught on both the sleeves of his battle robe and his horse’s saddle. No—the grass of the earth they raced across, the treetops in the sky—all turned to fire.

Five

However, when they reached Feng Xi’s position, it too was engulfed in pitch-black chaos. There, it was not only fire—Wu’s great general Xu Sheng had launched an assault, wielding the ferocious flames as his ally to press the attack. “What is happening?” Liu Bei began dazedly. When caught within the vortex of an enemy stratagem, one could not accurately discern their own position. Liu Bei’s state of mind mirrored this exactly.

“It’s no use. This place is also dangerous. We must reach Baidi Castle immediately—with all haste!”

Someone among the attendants shouted. The voice trembled; the voice that answered it choked on smoke.

In a frenzy, he spurred his horse. Through the flames. Through the smoke. Seeing this, Feng Xi, “I shall accompany you!” Feng Xi appeared to pursue with a dozen horsemen in tow, but upon encountering Xu Sheng along the way, he was slain together with his subordinates. “Seize Xuande alive!” Xu Sheng—having taken Feng Xi’s head—pressed onward with heightened urgency. Before Xuande, Ding Feng of Wu had positioned an ambush force lying in wait.

Of course, he was caught in a pincer attack and found himself cornered. If Fu Tong and Zhang Bao and others from their side had not rushed there, his fate would have been left in the hands of Wu’s generals. However, just in time, reinforcements from allies who revered him arrived, and gradually shielded by a dense encirclement, they managed to escape toward Ma’anshan.

Having fled to the mountaintop, Xuande finally regained his composure. From that lofty height, when he gazed out over the darkness, he beheld an awe-inspiring sight—a serpentine wheel formation of flames stretching seventy li scorched the earth and seared the heavens. Only when standing there did Xuande finally grasp the full scale of Lu Xun’s grand fire stratagem. “The one to fear is Lu Xun,” he thought. By then, it was too late. As he looked up at the sky and lamented, Lu Xun’s army had already tightly encircled Ma’anshan’s base. As if intending to reduce this entire mountain to ashes, they set fires along every path. Countless great fire dragons gazed heavenward as they surged upward.

Amid the tempest of war drums and tsunami of voices, the group surrounding Xuande could do nothing but stand helpless. However, the hot-blooded Guan Xing, Zhang Bao, and others remained at his side. "Do not trouble yourself with concern." With that, they charged recklessly down a thinning path through the flames toward the foothills leading to the riverbank.

However, on this path where flames were not visible, an ambush from Lu Xun’s forces lay in wait. Although they had broken through and escaped the perilous zone, the ambush forces increased in number and pursued them relentlessly. “Use fire against fire-wielding foes!”

Someone had set fire to the roadside grass in a flash of quick wit. However, as the flames proved insufficient to stem the immediate crisis, the Shu soldiers snapped their arrows, cast aside their armor, and even burned their banner poles to feed the fire. Consequently, the flames climbed up the tree branches and erupted into ferocious intensity all at once, finally halting the pursuing Wu troops. Yet no sooner had they reached the riverbank than they encountered fresh enemy forces—Wu’s great general Zhu Ran lay in wait there.

When they turned back and took refuge in a valley, war cries erupted as Lu Xun’s banners surged up from the valley floor. Just as Xuande cried out in despair—"Now I shall die here!"—unexpected reinforcements appeared before him once again. It was Zhao Yun Zilong of Changshan. As for why Zhao Yun had come there—his post in Jiangzhou was closer to the battlefield than Hanzhong or anywhere else—when Zhuge Liang had parted ways with Ma Liang and returned to Chengdu, (Go at once and rescue the Emperor!)

It was believed he had sent a missive beforehand. In any case, Zhao Yun's reinforcements were like Buddha descending into hell. Yet how drastically things had changed. When Xuande first entered Baidi Castle, a 750,000-strong grand army had been garrisoned there, yet now they said only a few hundred riders remained in his retinue.

However, Zhao Yun Zilong, Guan Xing, Zhang Bao, and their ilk, after ensuring the Emperor had entered the castle, immediately turned back from outside the city walls to their original path in order to rally the scattered allies from the defeated army.

Stone Sentinel Maze

I Once the entire army crumbled into total collapse, Shu’s encampments—which had stretched over seven hundred *li*—became like villages transformed into isolated floating islands by a raging flood, losing all functionality and communication. Each unit could do nothing but struggle helplessly against Wu’s turbulent surge of murky waters overwhelming all in their path. As a result, countless Shu generals met their deaths in battle from just yesterday to today.

First, Fu Tong was surrounded by Wu’s Ding Feng army. “Rather than pointlessly exerting your last strength in a battle you cannot win,” urged an enemy general, “why not surrender to Wu and preserve your martial honor for years to come?” In response, Fu Tong revealed his final stance at the vanguard of his ranks: “I am a general of Han! How could I surrender to Wu’s dogs?!” With that declaration, he charged into the enemy host and met a glorious end. Meanwhile, Cheng Ji—Shu’s Master of Ceremonies—now reduced to a dozen riders at his side, raced toward the riverbank hoping to join allied naval forces. But Wu’s navy had already seized control there too, leaving him trapped with no escape.

Then, a general from the Wu army shouted, "Master Cheng Ji! Master Cheng Ji!" "Not a single Shu banner remains standing on land or water." "Dismount and surrender!" he said.

Cheng Ji stood, hair whipping in the wind, “From the day I began serving my lord until now,” he roared, “I have never known retreat in battle! When meeting enemies, I know only to crush them!” With that, he spurred his horse in all directions and met his glorious end by severing his own head. Shu’s vanguard Zhang Nan had long besieged Yiling Castle, pressing the attack against Wu’s Sun Huan, when his ally Zhao Rong came galloping on horseback,

“The central army has been defeated—the entire front has collapsed! No one knows the Emperor’s whereabouts!” he reported. “At once!” they abruptly lifted the siege and sought Xuande’s location, attempting to regroup with the central army—but— “The time has come!” As Sun Huan sallied forth from the castle to pursue them, linking up with Wu forces from all directions, he blocked Zhang Nan and Zhao Rong at every pass. Soon enough, both men perished ingloriously amidst the chaotic fray. Not only were Shu’s high-ranking officers slain one after another—even Chieftain Shamoke, who had come from distant Nanman as reinforcements—but he too was captured by Wu’s Zhou Tai army and ultimately beheaded. Furthermore, Shu generals Du Lu and Liu Ning led their remaining troops to surrender at Wu’s main camp, entrusting their lives to prolong their survival—a pitiful outcome indeed.

“My plan has succeeded! My plan has come to fruition!” “Now there remains only one task: to capture alive Shu Emperor Xuande!” At this, Lu Xun, Grand Commander of Wu, revealed his true prowess. Seizing this great victory as his moment, he personally led a large army, giving the enemy no time to catch their breath, and pressed forward relentlessly in pursuit of Xuande’s fleeing forces. Already they had advanced to the vicinity of Yufu Pu. Here stood an old castle’s pass. Lu Xun made camp and allowed his troops and horses to rest. That evening, he gazed ahead from the pass, but

“What is this?” “This...” With a deeply shocked expression, he turned to the generals flanking him and declared,

“In the distance—along the mountains and facing the river—a surge of killing intent rises as if to pierce the heavens. It can be discerned that the enemy’s ambush lies in wait, imbued with killing intent. Do not advance! Do not advance—” Suddenly, he retreated his camp over ten *li* and ordered meticulous scouting of the path ahead. Before long, the scouts returned one after another, yet as if coordinated, delivered identical reports. “There are none.” “Not a single enemy soldier is in sight.”

Lu Xun suspected,

“Hmm?” He climbed the mountain again and stared intently at the distant sky. He descended while muttering like a growl. “Thick and swirling spectral aura; awe-inspiring clouds of slaughter. How could there not be an ambush here? The scouts must be inexperienced. Have seasoned covert agents carefully selected and thoroughly investigate the area.”

II

The sun had set and night had fallen, but Lu Xun still seemed troubled. He repeatedly went to the front lines, gazing up at the night sky over Yufu Pu.

“How strange! When night falls, there is an even thicker aura of slaughter than during the day. Just what kind of miraculous soldiers could lie in ambush there?” Even Lu Xun, wavering in doubt, seemed unable to attain peace of mind throughout the night.

Finally, around dawn, a seasoned scout returned and reported, “I have confirmed it. No matter how thoroughly we searched, it is certain there are no enemy soldiers there. However, from the riverside rocks to the mountain passes between peaks, thousands of stones of varying sizes are piled up as if they were stone figures. When I stood there, a desolate wind arose, and I could feel an eerie presence closing in on my skin.”

Lu Xun finally resolved himself and, taking along a dozen horsemen, headed toward Yufu Pu in the dim light of dawn, inspecting the area. Spotting four or five fishermen, Lu Xun halted his steed and demanded: “You there! Locals! You must know—why are stones piled high all along these shores and mountains? Is there some reason for this?” “Locals!” “You would know.” “What explains these stones heaped in mounds from shore to mountain pass?” “Is there purpose behind this?” he pressed.

Among them, an elderly fisherman answered, “Some years ago, a man named Zhuge Kongming stopped his ship here on his way to the land of Shu. He disembarked many soldiers and spent several days conducting battle drills and setting up formations. But after he boarded his ship and departed, without anyone noticing, this entire area became filled with countless stone structures—gates, towers, and arrangements that looked like human figures.” “Since then, the river’s waters have flowed into strange places, and whirlwinds sometimes arise here. No one dares enter that stone array anymore.”

Lu Xun, upon hearing this, “So this is Kongming’s trick,” he muttered, then spurred his horse once more and galloped up the slope to get a better look.

When he climbed to a high vantage point and surveyed the area, even the seemingly chaotic and imposing stone array revealed an orderly arrangement of strategic placements, with gates positioned along the paths in every direction. “Imitation soldiers, a false formation,” Lu Xun declared. “This is nothing more than a deceptive trick to confuse people. How shameful that I’ve harbored such unnecessary confusion over this trifle since yesterday!” He roared with laughter and then, following the watercourse along the mountainside, attempted to take a leisurely tour through the stone array before returning. “Hmm?” he muttered. “Is this another dead end?” “No—this way,” came a voice from his retinue.

“No good, no good! If we go this way, we’ll just end up back on the original path!” The lord and his dozen horsemen wandered aimlessly here and there, as if possessed by foxes. Try as they might, they could no longer escape from the Eightfold Stone Formation of scattered rocks.

Before long, the sun darkened as a raging wind scattered sand and white waves battered the chaotic shores. In an instant, heaven and earth revealed a perilous visage.

“Wh-what?!” “Isn’t that the sound of war drums?” “No—it’s the sound of the waves. It’s the wailing of the clouds.” “We were wrong. We disparaged them as imitation soldiers and have finally fallen into Kongming’s trap. If night falls and the storm intensifies further, we may well end up as corpses drowned here in vain.”

“Before night falls, find some way out!” Their eyes gradually grew bloodshot. Yet they still could not escape from the stone array. Then, a white-haired old man suddenly stood before them and smirked. When they asked who he was, “I am a friend of Huang Chengyan, Zhuge Liang’s father-in-law, and have long dwelled in the mountains beyond here,” he declared.

When Lu Xun courteously inquired about the path, "I thought Your Excellency might be lost," said the old man, "so I descended from the mountain to come here." "Now—this way."

Pulling his cane, the old man took the lead.

Effortlessly, Lu Xun and his subordinates emerged from the Stone Sentinel Maze. “Farewell—please do not tell anyone that I led you out from within the Stone Sentinel Maze. It would be remiss of me to Huang Chengyan, who is Kongming’s father-in-law.”

The white-haired old man, having said that, let his cane sway lightly in the wind and returned to the mountain veiled in evening haze.

"A hunter chasing prey loses sight of the mountain," Lu Xun reflected. "For one bearing my name to have advanced this far was a grave error." "Yes, we must not advance further." Whatever calculations passed through his mind, Lu Xun abruptly ordered his entire army to withdraw, retreating to Wu with the swiftness of flight.

Summoning Kongming

1 Their defeat of Shu had been swift as a whirlwind, yet their retreat unfolded with lightning speed. The Wu generals, intoxicated by victory, turned to Lu Xun and demanded, "What reason could there be for suddenly withdrawing after finally nearing Baidi Castle? You retreated upon seeing mere stone decoys and that disorderly rock formation—it's not as if Kongming himself appeared before us!" They pressed him in a tone laced with mockery. Lu Xun responded with grave sincerity.

“Indeed, it is true that I feared Kongming,” Lu Xun said earnestly. “However, there was another reason for our withdrawal. That will become clear to you all within a day or two when it materializes as fact.” They had dismissed this as a temporary excuse, but a day passed—and on the second day, reports of sudden changes began arriving at headquarters in rapid succession from every corner of Wu. The messages declared: “The massive Wei army has divided into three routes: Cao Xiu’s forces advancing on Dongkou; Cao Zhen pressing against Nanjun’s borders; and Cao Ren already surging toward Ruxu like storm clouds sweeping southward.”

“Just as I foresaw!” Lu Xun clapped his hands, celebrating that his keen insight had not erred and that this turn of events would prove a great fortune for Wu. He immediately assumed a battle-ready stance.

Meanwhile—Emperor Xuande, who had suffered a crushing defeat from which he could never recover at that man’s hands, now hid within Baidi Castle. All traces of his former vigor had vanished without a trace. "I cannot return to Chengdu and face my ministers." And so, the tattered curtains of the deep palace enveloped only this man’s wounded heart. In time, Ma Liang—who had met Kongming in Hanzhong—returned and conveyed Kongming’s words, but the Emperor— "It may sound like complaining now," he lamented bitterly, "but had I heeded the Prime Minister’s counsel, I would never have suffered such misery as this." Though he yearned deeply for that distant advisor, he still did not return to Chengdu, instead renaming Baidi Castle as Yong’an Palace.

Around that time, rumors were heard that Shu's naval commander Huang Quan had entered Wei and surrendered to Cao Pi. Shu's court officials reported to Xuande, "We should execute Huang Quan's wife, children, and clan."

they pressed, but Xuande, “No, no—Huang Quan surrendered to Wei because Wu’s forces had completely severed his retreat, leaving him no path forward or back.” “Huang Quan did not abandon me; it is my crime that I abandoned Huang Quan.” Having said that, he instead ordered that Huang Quan’s family be protected. When Huang Quan surrendered to Wei and met Cao Pi, he was told he would be made General Who Pacifies the South, but he only shed tears and showed no sign of joy. And then, Cao Pi—

“Unwilling?” When he asked, “If a general of a defeated army can but escape death once, he needs no greater mercy.” Thus did Huang Quan implicitly refuse to serve.

At that moment, a Wei official entered and declared in a deliberately loud voice, “According to a report from a spy who has just returned from Shu, Huang Quan’s wife, children, and entire clan have incurred Xuande’s wrath and were all executed,” he announced. Upon hearing this, Huang Quan smiled bitterly,

“That must be some kind of mistake or a fabrication by those with ulterior motives. My Emperor would never be such a person,” he instead seemed to believe in their safety.

Cao Pi dismissed him without another word. And then immediately after, he spread out a map of the Three Kingdoms and secretly summoned Jia Xu. “Jia Xu—to unify the realm under Our rule—should We first conquer Shu or attack Wu?”

Jia Xu fell into prolonged silent contemplation,

“Shu is difficult, Wu is difficult…” “In essence, there is no choice but to exploit the vulnerabilities of both kingdoms.” “However, with Your Majesty’s divine might, there will surely come a day when your wish is achieved.” “Now, our Wei army is exploiting their vulnerabilities and advancing toward Wu through three routes.” “What will come of this?” “There will likely be no advantage gained whatsoever.” “First you tell me to attack Wu, and now you say it’s impossible.” “Is there not a complete lack of consistency in your counsel from beginning to end?” Cao Pi's mind was remarkably sharp. Even Jia Xu, that master strategist, found himself occasionally outwitted by him.

II Yet Jia Xu pressed on, undeterred by imperial displeasure, and spoke.

“That is correct. Had Your Majesty acted when Wu was being pressed by Shu’s forces and suffering successive defeats, that would indeed have been the perfect moment for Wei to invade Wu. However, the situation has now completely reversed: Lu Xun has thoroughly crushed Shu, Wu’s morale has surged a hundredfold daily, and they now boast an invincible advantage. Therefore, to attack Wu now would be difficult, and to engage them would be disadvantageous—that is why I stated as such.” “Enough. The Imperial Forest troops have already advanced to Wu’s border. Our mind is already made up.”

Cao Pi would not listen. He then reinforced the three-pronged armies and personally headed out to oversee the campaign. While attacking Shu on one front and confronting Wei on another, Wu—under Lu Xun’s command, which demonstrated swift flexibility and masterful military tactics throughout this period—faced the three-pronged Wei armies without panic, defending resolutely and fighting valiantly. Among these.

For Wu, the most crucial defensive line was the single fortress of Ruxu near their capital, Jianye.

Wei dispatched Cao Ren to this point of attack. Cao Ren assigned his generals Wang Shuang and Zhuge Qian over fifty thousand cavalry and had them surround Ruxu. “If we capture this place, it will be like driving a dagger straight into the heart of the enemy’s capital, Jianye.” “All forces, press onward!” “Now is the time to achieve great merit!” The headquarters from which Emperor Cao Pi of Wei oversaw the campaign was also located there. Thus, Wei’s morale soared to unprecedented heights. The skies over Jiangbei and Jiangdong darkened under the tumult of war, their battle aura blotting out the crimson sun, while their murderous energy shook the very axis of the earth.

At that time, the Wu general tasked with defending Ruxu was Zhu Huan, who was still only twenty-seven years old. Zhu Huan was young but a man of courage. He had previously diverted five thousand garrison troops to reinforce Xianxi, so the remaining soldiers in the city were few, and all the officers... “With such a small force, we cannot possibly hold off Wei’s overwhelming army.” “If we do not retreat from here now to join the rear forces—or bring the rear forces into this position and request fresh reinforcements from Jianye—we cannot possibly fight them on equal terms.”

Seeing them trembling in panic, Zhu Huan gathered his principal officers and addressed them. “The Wei army appears to fill the very mountains and rivers. However, they are troops that have come from afar and are fatigued by this scorching heat. The time will soon come when they instead suffer from their own numbers. Two things await them: epidemic within their ranks and shortages of provisions. In contrast, though we are few in number, we are entrenched in cool highlands, fortified with ironclad defenses. To the south lies the Great River, and to the north tower steep mountain passes—this is the situation where we use our ease to await their exhaustion. The Art of War states: ‘Even if an invading force doubles in size while the defending force is halved, the defenders will still prevail.’ In battles on flat plains and open fields, it is not the number of soldiers but their strategy that determines the outcome—this has been evident through countless battles since ancient times. An army lacking morale is a doomed army. You all must trust in Zhu Huan’s command and hold invincibility as your creed. I will leave the city tomorrow and make that proof clear for your own eyes to see.”

The next day, he deliberately showed a feigned weakness and lured the enemy forces closer. Wei’s Chang Diao abruptly launched an attack toward the city gate. However, inside the gate lay still and silent; there appeared to be not a single soldier. “The enemy has no fighting spirit.” “Perhaps they’ve already fled and scattered from the rear gate!” The soldiers all carelessly clung to the castle walls, and Chang Diao had ridden his horse to the edge of the moat and was issuing commands.

A thunderous roar erupted. Hundreds of flags fluttered atop turrets, watchtowers, stone walls, and gate towers like myriad blossoms blooming all at once. A rain of crossbow bolts and war arrows poured down upon the Wei soldiers all at once. The city gates swung open in an eight-character formation; Zhu Huan, alone on his steed, plunged into the chaotic enemy ranks and with a single stroke of his blade, felled Wei general Chang Diao. Hearing of the vanguard’s crisis, Cao Ren of the central army immediately advanced with his large force—but when he turned around, the Wu army, surging forth like clouds from Xianxi Valley, had severed his retreat route and now thundered with war drums from behind.

Truly, the defeat of this day marked the beginning of a losing habit for the Wei army. From then on, they suffered defeat after defeat, unable to overcome Zhu Huan’s forces no matter what.

Then came reports of defeat from both Dongkou and Nanjun fronts. When even Emperor Cao Pi's return route grew perilous, he finally abandoned the campaign there. Swallowing his bitter regret, he rolled up his banners of defeat and withdrew to Wei.

Entrusting the Orphaned Child

One

From around April of that year, Emperor Xuande of Shu fell ill at the guest residence of Yong'an Palace, and his condition grew graver with each passing day.

“What hour is it?” The night attendants and court physician who were trimming the candle by the pillow,

“Your Majesty, are you awake? It is now third watch,” they reported.

Staring at the starkly glowing candle on his sickbed, Xuande muttered to himself, “So...it was a dream...” He spent the remaining hours until dawn recounting memories of his deceased brothers Guan Yu and Zhang Fei to his attendant ministers. Whenever opportunity arose, his vassals entreated him, “Your Majesty should return to Chengdu and devote yourself fully to recuperation.” But he—

"Having suffered this defeat, how could I show my face to the officials and people of Chengdu?" He still seemed to feel deeply ashamed of the defeat by Wu, and each time, he would frown. The illness had finally reached a critical state. He too had come to terms with his mortality,

“I wish to see Chancellor Kongming.”

he said.

The urgent messenger bearing news of his critical condition had already reached Chengdu by that time. Upon receiving this news, Kongming immediately prepared for travel. Leaving Crown Prince Liu Shan in the capital and taking only the young princes Liu Yong and Liu Li with him, he pressed onward day and night until he arrived at Yong'an Palace. He prostrated himself at the bedside and wept upon seeing Xuande's wasted form.

“Come closer… Even closer.”

The Emperor ordered his close attendants to place a seat upon the dragon bed, extended his slender hand toward Kongming’s back, and proclaimed thus: “Chancellor, forgive me. “With Our shallow talent, We were able to establish the imperial enterprise solely through having obtained you as Our Chancellor... “In the end, by not heeding your counsel, I brought about this defeat, and now know my illness has reached its critical stage. “...After We are gone, We can only entrust all matters of state—both domestic and foreign—to you once more... With you, Kongming, remaining in this world even beyond Our passing, that alone shall be Our sole reliance as Xuande departs.”

Torrent after torrent, the tears dripping from his ailing face did naught but drench Kongming’s neck.

“Your Majesty. I beseech you to preserve your imperial health—at least until the Crown Prince comes of age.”

As Kongming sobbed and offered comfort, the Emperor lightly shook his head from side to side and dismissed all the nearby attendants from the chamber. Among them was Ma Liang’s younger brother, Ma Su. Ma Su’s figure, his eyelids red from crying, looked pitiful.

Xuande suddenly asked. "Chancellor, how have you assessed Ma Su's talents through your daily observations?" "A most promising young man," came the reply. "I regard him as a future hero." "No—during my illness, I have closely observed him," countered Xuande. "His words overflow with excess while his courage and talent fall short. I deem him one who will prove difficult to rely upon in times to come. Exercise utmost caution when employing him."

he continued speaking of such matters in his usual manner. However, as dusk approached and his condition suddenly took a turn, “Are all the ministers assembled?” he asked. Kongming replied, “All the ministers are present without having slept a wink—”

“Then, open the sickbed curtains.”

Having given this order, he granted a final audience to all present from the dragon bed. And then, (Imperial Edict Bestowed Upon Crown Prince Liu Shan)

Having entrusted the edict to the various ministers and instructed them that there must be no disobedience, he closed his eyes once more. But before long, he turned toward Kongming and— “I was raised in humble soil and did not read much, but by this age, I believe I have come to understand the essence of life. Cease your futile lamentations.”

Having said this, he seemed about to deliver some final words, his lips solemnly steadying with breath.

II The bond between Xuande and Kongming now had only a few breaths remaining between them across the boundary of life and death. Forgetting himself, Kongming clung to the Emperor's dragon bed, drew his face near, and spoke through tears.

“If there are any final edicts you wish to impart, please command me without reserve. Though I, Kongming, am unworthy, as long as breath remains in me, I shall engrave your words upon my heart and ensure that no regrets linger in yours.” “You have spoken well. Xuande will now depart this world. I have done all I can. By trusting in the Chancellor’s unwavering loyalty and entrusting these crucial words, I have no lingering concerns whatsoever.”

“...Are you referring to those crucial words you spoke?” “Chancellor! ‘When a man approaches death, his words hold wisdom.’ You must not show empty modesty toward my words. ...Your talent surpasses Cao Pi’s tenfold. The likes of Sun Quan are not fit to stand beside you... Thus you shall secure Shu and make my foundation unshakable. Yet Crown Prince Liu Shan remains young—his future is unclear. If he truly possesses the innate qualities of an emperor, I would rejoice for you to guide him. But should he prove unfit for the imperial mantle—Chancellor, you yourself must ascend as Shu’s sovereign and govern the people...”

Kongming prostrated himself weeping, not knowing where to place his hands and feet. What resolute judgment—what a tragically solemn final decree! Should the Crown Prince prove incapable, you were to rise and complete the imperial undertaking—such had been his words. Kongming struck his head against the foot of the dragon bed and wept with such intensity that blood might well have flowed from his eyes. Xuande then summoned his two young princes, Liu Yong and Liu Li, to his side. “After I am gone, you brothers must serve Kongming as your father. Should you ever defy your father’s words, you will be unfilial sons! Do you understand…?”

After admonishing them thus and spending a moment as their father with a gaze full of reluctant parting, he turned once more toward Kongming, “Chancellor, sit there. “I shall have my children swear fealty to the man who is their father.”

“I shall have my children swear fealty to the man who is their father,” he said. The two princes lined up before Kongming, swore not to disobey, and performed a deep bow of reverence.

“Ah… Now I can rest assured.” Xuande took a deep breath and looked back at Zhao Yun Zilong beside him,

“You and I have long shared joys and hardships through countless battles and adversities, but today we must finally part,” Liu Bei declared to Zhao Yun Zilong. “End your days with honor. And together with the Chancellor, I entrust the young ones left behind to you.” Having said these words, he repeated the same injunction to Li Yan, then addressed the civil and military officials: “I already feel my life nearing its end. I cannot leave detailed instructions for each of you individually. Let all unite to uphold the state, and may every one of you protect and cherish your duties.”

When he finished speaking, he suddenly collapsed. At that time, he was sixty-three years of age. It was the twenty-fourth day of the fourth month in the third year of Zhangwu of Shu.

Amidst the voices of grief and sorrow within Yong'an Palace, Kongming eventually escorted the funeral bier back to Chengdu. Crown Prince Liu Shan left the castle to meet them and, in his grief, conducted daily and nightly memorial rites.

And then, he opened his father's posthumous edict, read it reverently, and declared: "I shall most assuredly set your heart at ease in the netherworld."

He responded with this intent at the altar and swore it to the court officials.

The officials of Shu also repeatedly read and recited the late Emperor’s posthumous edict from memory, pledging to Kongming that there would certainly be no violation.

"The state cannot endure even a single day without its sovereign," declared Kongming as he consulted with the officials. That same year, he conducted a grand ceremony to enthrone Crown Prince Liu Shan as Emperor and uphold Han's legitimate succession.

At the same time, the era name was changed, making the third year of Zhangwu become the first year of Jianxing. The new emperor, Liu Shan, whose style name was Gongsi. Though he was still seventeen years of age at that time, in accordance with his father’s posthumous edict, he revered Kongming and esteemed his counsel. By the Emperor’s decree, Kongming was enfeoffed as Marquis of Wuqing and took charge of the governorship of Yizhou. Furthermore, in August of that year, once the grand funeral at Huiling had concluded, the state council posthumously honored the late Emperor Liu Xuande with the title Emperor Zhaolie. A general amnesty decree was issued, and throughout the realm, all praised Emperor Zhaolie’s virtuous legacy while praying that the new emperor’s reign might be blessed with its lingering radiance.

Fish Pattern

One

Xuande’s death exerted a profound influence.

When news of the Shu Emperor’s demise reached him, none rejoiced more than Wei Emperor Cao Pi, “If we dispatch a large army now, could we not capture Chengdu in one fell swoop?”

With eyes gleaming like a tiger’s, he consulted his ministers, but Jia Xu— as if declaring, “Kongming remains there”—staunchly opposed this reckless course of action.

Then, from Cao Pi’s attendants, one person sprang to his feet. “To conquer Shu is precisely now! If not now, when else should we expect to accomplish such a great task?”

Then, there was one who bolstered the Wei Emperor’s words.

“Who is this?” When the people looked, it was Sima Yi, style name Zhongda, a man from Wen County in Henei. Cao Pi, with a secretly knowing expression,

“Sima Yi—what of this plan?” he inquired with a sidelong glance.

Zhongda bowed respectfully, “Even if we were to raise an army in the Central Plains alone, matters would not easily turn to our advantage. However, should we deploy a five-pronged grand army to prevent Kongming from coordinating relief between his forces, how could even Shu’s formidable defenses withstand us? This holds especially true now that Xuande is gone and they’ve only just installed the orphaned Liu Shan in their precarious situation—”

“What kind of tactic is this ‘five-pronged’ strategy?” “First, dispatch envoys to Liaodong to present gold and silk to the King of Xianbei, mobilize 100,000 Hu barbarian forces from Liaoxi, and have them advance toward Xiping Pass.” “This is the first route.” “Hmm. “The second route?” “Second: Dispatch a secret missive to the distant Southern Man Kingdom, pledge great future benefits to their King Meng Huo, and hasten 100,000 barbarian troops into action against Yizhou’s Yongchang, Yuexi, and other regions—thereby threatening Shu’s heartland from the south. This is the second route.”

Zhongda’s eloquence flowed like a rushing torrent as he elaborated his plan. "For the third route, we shall establish neighborly relations to mobilize Wu and have them press upon Liangchuan and Xiaokou. For the fourth route, we will command the surrendered Shu general Meng Da to seize Fucheng with one hundred thousand troops centered at Shangyong." "For the fifth route, we shall appoint General Cao Zhen of your clan as Grand Commander of the Central Plains to lead a grand formation in a direct assault against Shu from Yangping Pass. Even should Kongming deploy every stratagem from his arsenal, he could never withstand five routes of attack with five hundred thousand troops."

The grand scale and ingenious strategy. Captivated by the solemn voice that spoke each word with conviction, the entire hall raised no objections—and Cao Pi in particular was filled with immense satisfaction,

“Adopt this strategy immediately.” With that, he issued his decision.

Messengers rushed to the five directions, and the military headquarters of the Wei capital was gripped by an unusual tension. The only hint of melancholy lay in how veteran commanders from Cao Cao’s era—Zhang Liao, Xu Huang, and others—had all been enfeoffed as marquises by this time, with many now passing their twilight years in retirement within their domains. Yet newly risen talents were far from scarce. That Zhongda—who had long been confined to serving as a mere civil official since Cao Cao’s reign—now emerged with such striking prominence spoke unmistakably of a new era dawning.

As for the situation in Chengdu of Shu during this time, all governance had been entrusted to Kongming’s judgment, and the veteran ministers remained united, demonstrating not the slightest disturbance even after Xuande’s passing. During this period, the daughter of the late General of Chariots and Cavalry Zhang Fei had just turned fifteen, so she was installed as Empress in the main palace to serve the young Emperor Liu Shan. However, scarcely a few days had passed since this celebration when a major upheaval was reported: Wei’s large army was advancing toward Shu via five routes. Moreover, Prime Minister Kongming—the linchpin of their defense—had not shown his face at court for several days now.

Two

Couriers bearing urgent reports from all five border fronts passed through Chengdu’s gates in rapid succession, like teeth of a comb.

The gravity of the situation and the unease of the court and populace grew more intense with each occurrence. The appearance of Wei’s massive invasion via the five-route strategy, as reported, was widely rumored among the general populace to be as follows.

The first route: — Fifty thousand soldiers of the Liaodong Xianbei Kingdom (Liaoning Province) would invade Sichuan by attacking Xiping Pass (Gansu Province/Xining).

The second route: —Meng Huo, King of the Southern Man (Guizhou, Yunnan, parts of Burma), leading approximately seventy thousand troops, sought to sweep through the southern regions of Yizhou.

The third route: —Sun Quan of Wu would advance up the Yangtze River and invade Liangchuan from Xiaokou. The fourth route: —Centered on the rebel general Meng Da, a force of forty thousand troops from Shangyong would strike Hanzhong. As for the fifth route: —[It would] use Grand Commander Cao Zhen’s Wei army as its core force to break through Yangping Pass, coordinate with allies across all four borders, and enter Shu in full strength to crush Chengdu—when combined, the total forces of these five routes were estimated to exceed five hundred thousand to six hundred thousand troops.

Needless to say, the Young Emperor Liu Shan was filled with fear. It was as though he had parted from his Emperor Father just yesterday, and had only recently been enthroned as Emperor of Shu. “Why does Kongming not appear?” “Summon Kongming at once!” Relying solely on the Prime Minister alone, he inquired repeatedly. Of course, messengers had been dispatched from the palace gate to Kongming countless times. But Kongming closed the gate and, “Recently, due to illness, I have come to such a state that I cannot even attend court in the morning.” With only that response, no matter how urgently they conveyed the gravity of the situation, he refused to even show his face.

Emperor Liu Shan, increasingly gripped by fear and sorrow, once again dispatched Imperial Secretary Dong Yun and Grandee Remonstrant Du Qiong as imperial envoys.

The two promptly visited the Prime Minister’s residence. However, just as the rumors had said, the gate was shut tight, and the guards staunchly refused entry, no matter what was said. Having no other choice, the two envoys raised their voices loudly from outside the gate: “Cao Pi of Wei has raised five armies, and our national defense now faces peril on all five fronts.” “Yet Your Excellency, the Prime Minister, uses illness as a pretext and does not attend court even in the morning—what could possibly be your reasoning?” “It has not been many days since the Late Emperor entrusted this orphan to Your Excellency the Prime Minister—is this not the very day when the earth of Huiling’s tomb has yet to dry?”

In a fit of anger, they hurled abuse.

Then came the sound of hurried footsteps from someone who had rushed through the inner garden, answering from behind the closed gate. "The Prime Minister has declared he will leave his residence at dawn tomorrow to attend court and confer with all officials." "You must return today." With no alternative, the two envoys withdrew and faithfully reported this to the Emperor. Meanwhile, all officials had gathered in the council hall since morning, certain the Prime Minister would finally appear at court the next day. Yet when afternoon waned and sunset came, Kongming still had not arrived. Voicing tangled resentments and accusations, all officials dispersed at twilight.

The Emperor’s distress was beyond ordinary measure. No sooner had the next day dawned than he summoned Du Qiong,

“The matter is urgent, yet Kongming still does not attend court. What should be done in such a time?” he inquired. “There is no other choice but for Your Majesty to personally make an imperial visit to Kongming’s gate and graciously inquire about his true intentions.”

The Later Sovereign Liu Shan entered the Western Palace to meet his mother, the Empress Dowager,

“I shall go,” he explained the details. The Empress Dowager was also astonished, “How could Kongming now act contrary to the Late Emperor’s posthumous edict?” Though she turned her own carriage toward Kongming and resolved to question him herself, deeming it far too presumptuous for the Empress Dowager to make an imperial visit, the Emperor immediately proceeded to the Prime Minister’s residence. Those who were astonished were the city officials and gatekeepers. Caught off guard by the sudden imperial visit, they were at a loss for where to position themselves, prostrating to welcome the imperial carriage.

“Where is the Prime Minister?”

The Emperor alighted from his carriage and proceeded on foot as far as the third gate. When he questioned the officials, they prostrated themselves and answered fearfully with trepidation. "In the inner garden by the pond, he has been patiently observing the fish swim." "He is likely still there at this moment."

Three

The Emperor proceeded resolutely into the inner garden entirely alone. There stood a figure by the pond, leaning on a bamboo staff and gazing intently at the water's surface. "Prime Minister, what occupies you here?" When the Emperor called out from behind, Kongming cast aside his staff and prostrated himself upon the grass. "How now? When did you arrive?" "...Having failed to greet you properly, I beg Your Majesty's forgiveness for this grave offense." "Let us set aside such trifles. Wei's massive forces advance along five routes to violate our borders." "Does the Prime Minister remain unaware of this?"

"As the Late Emperor approached his demise, he entrusted Your Majesty to this unworthy minister and charged me with state affairs. How could I possibly remain unaware of recent critical matters?" "Then why have you not appeared at court deliberations?" "It is precisely because I serve as Prime Minister that appearing without prepared strategies would only sow confusion among the officials. Thus I maintained solitude to contemplate deeply." "And so each day by this pond, observing the fishes' nature while pondering the illusion of ripples against the reality of their swimming—using them as metaphors for worldly affairs—today I suddenly conceived a plan." "...Your Majesty need trouble yourself no longer."

Thereupon, Kongming invited the Emperor into a hall, firmly dismissed all others, and secretly reported the following countermeasures.

“Ma Chao of Shu was born in Xiliang. Among the Hu and Yi tribes, he is revered as the Divine Might Heavenly General and still commands great prestige.” “Therefore, by stationing him at Xiping Pass and having him skillfully subdue the Hu and Yi forces when circumstances demand, this front’s defense need not trouble Your Majesty.” Regarding the second route’s defense, he continued: “Though Nanman generals and soldiers possess ferocity, they lack initiative, harbor deep suspicions, breed discord, and bear a weakness that leaves them vulnerable to strategic deception.” “Thus I have already issued an official dispatch, entrusted Wei Yan with a decoy strategy, and deployed troops to key positions in southern Yizhou. Your Majesty’s august mind need not dwell on this matter.”

he continued, “Now, regarding Meng Da of Shangyong’s impending invasion of Hanzhong—he was originally a Shu general, well-versed in the classics, and shared a profound bond of righteousness with your ally Li Yan.” “A man who understands righteousness and reads the classics cannot lack a conscience.” “Therefore, I will assign Li Yan—who shares a life-and-death bond with him—to defend that front. I shall draft a document for Li Yan to present as his personal letter and have him send it to Meng Da.” “Thus tormented by his conscience, Meng Da will find himself unable to advance or retreat. Ultimately, he will feign illness and waste days in hesitation... Next, regarding Yangping Pass’s defense against Cao Zhen’s central Wei army: its terrain forms a formidable natural fortress, and with Zhao Yun Zilong stationed there, there is little fear of it being breached.” “With this grand perspective, the aforementioned four fronts pose no concern. Though this simultaneous campaign appears vast in scale, I can confidently declare it mere bluster.” “However, as added precaution, I previously issued secret orders granting Guan Xing and Zhang Bao 20,000 soldiers each as mobile reserves, commanding them to rush to any emergency at the fronts. I implore Your Majesty to set your mind at ease.”

Having thus for the first time presented this matter to Emperor Liu Shan’s attention and disclosed all preparations in full detail, he finally declared: “However, the problem here lies above all in Wu’s maneuvers.” When he reached this point, he intensified his gaze, altered his tone, and with an air that revealed the conviction in his heart—that the main focus of all countermeasures lay solely with Wu—he continued: “Your servant humbly surmises that even if Wei urges Wu to mobilize troops, Wu will never lightly comply with such orders due to longstanding grievances and diplomatic estrangement between them... However, there remains one danger I anticipate: this would occur only if the battle situation at Shu’s four border fronts shifts decisively in Wei’s favor, making Shu’s defeat apparent.” “When it becomes unmistakably clear, Wu too will follow suit and surge through the gorge like a tidal wave.” “But as long as Shu’s defenses appear as an impregnable iron wall, Wu will not move.” “Wu will not place itself beneath Wei.” “...Now, what I am considering is the person who will bear this crucial mission and go as an envoy to Wu.” “Who would be suitable? I am earnestly seeking that person, but... well?”

Four As time passed with the Emperor remaining in a hall deep within the garden alongside Kongming without returning, the attendants and other retainers below the rank of chamberlain—who had been standing wearily outside the gate—whispered among themselves: “What could His Majesty be doing?” They gathered close in suspicion and wonder, debating whether to suggest an early return to the palace. At that moment, Kongming was finally seen approaching from behind the Emperor. The Emperor’s countenance now appeared radiant—utterly transformed from before—his smile even revealing dimples. When all officials beheld their sovereign’s expression,

(This must mean His Majesty had some favorable discussion with Kongming.)

Inferring this, even the retinue accompanying the imperial carriage suddenly became cheerful, and the return procession’s ceremonial display grew exceedingly lively. Then, among the retinue, there was a man who laughed while looking up at the sky, rejoicing alone. Zhuge Liang had briefly taken notice, but as the imperial carriage began to move,

“You alone stay behind.” He stopped the man and, after completing the send-off,

“Come here.”

He guided him inside the gate and gave him a seat on the floor of a pavilion before beginning his questioning. “Where were you born?” “I am from Xinye in Yiyang.” “Your name?” “I am Deng Zhi, styled Bo Miao.” “What is your current official position?” “I serve as Minister of Revenue and am currently investigating the household registries within Shu.” “Household registry affairs are hardly a suitable post for you.” “I have not considered such a thing.” “Why were you laughing alone among the retinue earlier?” “Because I simply couldn’t contain my delight.”

“What is so amusing?” “What do you mean? Your Excellency has demonstrated a decisive grand strategy against Wei’s five-pronged invasion.” “As a subject of Shu, how could I not rejoice at this?” “You are a man who leaves no room for carelessness.” Kongming fixed him with a piercing glare. However, that was rather a gaze that seemed to admire Deng Zhi’s talent.

“If you were to devise such a strategy, what measures would you take at this juncture?” “I am no great statesman, but defending the four fronts would be straightforward. The true challenge lies in having a single countermeasure against Wu.”

“Very well.” “I command you.” Kongming suddenly spoke with solemnity, led him into a hall, and engaged in a secret discussion lasting several hours. Then, after hosting him with wine, he sent him home.

The next day, Kongming attended the morning court session for the first time. And then he presented a memorial to the Later Sovereign Liu Shan, "I have found a man to send as an envoy to Wu. Though it is an exceptional promotion, I humbly request Your Majesty's imperial approval." "Though this is an exceptional promotion, I humbly request Your Majesty's imperial approval."

In other words, he had recommended Deng Zhi. Deng Zhi was deeply moved,

“If I cannot fulfill this mission, I shall not expect to return alive.”

Having declared this, Deng Zhi departed on the same day.

At this time, Wu had changed its era name to Huangwu 1 and grown increasingly powerful when Cao Pi of Wei proposed a military alliance: "Let us attack Shu together and divide it between us. I have a grand strategy of a four-pronged invasion; let your esteemed state of Wu also surge up the river with a large army and simultaneously pour into Shu." In response, the council was split between approval and disapproval, and their deliberations struggled to reach a swift resolution. Sun Quan, too, found it difficult to issue a decisive command,

(In that case, I should summon Lu Xun and inquire about his intentions.)

And so, he dispatched a messenger to urgently summon him to Jianye.

When Lu Xun attended the Jianye council, he expounded his aspirations and provided clear direction to the national policy that had been wavering between two courses. “If we reject Wei’s proposal now, they will surely bear resentment and may even form a temporary truce with Shu to turn their spears against us.” “Yet if we submit to Wei’s command and attack Shu, the expenditure of resources and manpower would be immeasurable. Should we exhaust ourselves thus, calamity would swiftly descend upon Wu next.” “Moreover, while Wei has many capable talents, Shu still has Kongming—so I do not believe they will be easily defeated. Therefore, at this juncture, we must feign advancement without advancing and feign battle without fighting, with delay as our aim while observing Wei’s four-front campaign for a time.” “If Wei’s military situation proves unexpectedly favorable, then there remains no obstacle.” “Our forces would simply invade Shu immediately.”

Shu-Wu Alliance I

In essence, Lu Xun’s strategy was:

First, we do not oppose Wei’s demands; second, we do not form lasting enmity with Shu; third, we strengthen our own forces and adapt to favorable circumstances.

Such was the plan. Guided by this principle, Wu’s forces advanced thereafter but refrained from engaging in battle. They simply dispatched spies in all directions, gathering intelligence while observing the developments of both Shu and Wei’s armies. And indeed, as Cao Pi had calculated, Wei’s four-pronged invasion made no favorable progress. First came reports that the Liaodong force had been repelled by Shu’s Ma Chao at Xiping Pass; that the Nanman troops fell into disarray after encountering Shu’s decoy tactics in southern Yizhou; that Meng Da of Shangyong—whether truthfully or falsely—claimed illness and refused to mobilize; and that Cao Zhen’s central army, its strategic positions seized by Zhao Yun, retreated from both Yangping Pass and Xie Rock—a complete rout across all fronts.

"...Ah, this was truly fortunate," Sun Quan reflected inwardly. "Had Wu marched forward without heeding Lu Xun's counsel, the dire straits we would have faced defy imagination. Truly, Lu Xun's foresight amounted to divine calculation." Now that events had unfolded thus, Sun Quan celebrated this stroke of fortune from his heart and deepened his trust in Lu Xun, who had offered such sage advice. At that very moment, it was announced that a man named Deng Zhi had arrived as an envoy from the state of Shu.

Zhang Zhao said to Sun Quan, “This man undoubtedly carries Kongming’s intentions.” “How should we receive him?”

“First, test that envoy to see what kind of man he is. How we should respond to his proposal can be decided afterward.”

Sun Quan commanded warriors to set up a large cauldron in the courtyard before the hall. They filled it with hundreds of pounds of oil, piled firewood beneath, and brought it to a bubbling boil.

"Admit the Shu envoy."

Sun Quan waited arrogantly with his ministers across the steps, poised and ready. Over a thousand warriors stood arrayed in gleaming rows from the base of the stairs to the palace gates, their halberds, dagger-axes, spears, and axes aligned in formation. That day, Deng Zhi—who had left the guesthouse and was being led to the palace gates for the first time—wore threadbare ceremonial robes. Being a man of naturally unimpressive bearing, he followed his guide without any pretense of dignity, so simply that one might mistake him for an attendant. Yet this man showed not a flicker of fear at the forest of blades filling Wu's palace grounds, nor did he betray any reaction to the flames licking the great cauldron of boiling oil. Upon reaching the foot of the stairs, he merely grinned up at Sun Quan's elevated dais. Sun Quan ordered the curtain rolled up. The instant their eyes met, he thundered,

“What manner of wretch dares stand before me without bowing? Declare your origin and name!”

Declare your origin and name!” he barked.

Deng Zhi remained resolute, still standing rigidly,

“It is customary for envoys from superior nations not to bow to the rulers of lesser states.” Sun Quan’s face turned as red as the boiling oil in the cauldron. “Insolent wretch! Do you think that with your three-inch tongue, you can emulate Li Yiji’s example of persuading the King of Qi? Pitiable fool. Even if you possessed the eloquence of ancient rhetoricians like Sui He and Lu Jia, could you possibly sway the heart of this Sun Quan? Leave! Begone!” “Ha ha ha! Ah ha ha!” “Knave! What are you laughing at?” “I had heard that Wu boasted many heroes and sages as numerous as the stars—but who could have imagined they would fear a lone scholar so?”

“Silence! Who would fear the likes of you?” “Then why does Your Majesty dread this humble one’s tongue?” “The one who employs you is Kongming. No doubt he seeks to use his envoy to sunder Wu from Wei and rekindle Shu’s stale alliance with us.” “I am—however unworthy—an envoy of the Shu Empire, moreover the foremost diplomat and scholar selected from within Shu. What manner of hospitality is this—to receive a delegate with a thorny path of blades and entertain him with a seething cauldron? From the King of Wu down to every vassal in Jianye—does none possess the stature to properly receive a single envoy? Truly... this defies all expectation.”

When he spoke with such disillusioned dignity, even the ministers felt ashamed. Sun Quan—perhaps reflecting slightly on his own narrow-mindedness—suddenly dismissed all the imposing warriors and at last welcomed him to a seat in the hall’s upper chamber.

II "I ask again: As Shu's persuader, what have you come to say to this Sun Quan?" "As Your Majesty previously stated, I have come seeking reconciliation between Shu and Wu." "If that be so, then I harbor grave doubts," Sun Quan countered. "With Shu's ruler Xuande gone and the Later Ruler being young, can your state truly maintain its dignity henceforth?" When Sun Quan voiced these concerns, Deng Zhi felt conviction solidify within his breast. "Your Majesty stands as a hero of this age, while Kongming represents our generation's foremost talent," he began. "Shu possesses impregnable mountains and rivers; Wu commands the Three Rivers' natural defenses. What deficiency could exist in forming a lips-and-teeth alliance between us? Though Your Majesty wields this mighty realm's strength, you style yourself Wei's vassal—but observe what follows. Wei will inevitably find pretexts to demand your prince as hostage. Should you refuse their demands, they'll thunder against Wu with ten thousand drums of war while tempting Shu with favorable terms for military cooperation." Deng Zhi leaned forward, his voice dropping like the Yangtze's current. "If Shu's armies were to heed Wei's entreaties as those swift waters flow eastward—could Wu possibly remain secure?"

“……” “What does Your Majesty think of this?” “……”

“Ah! Alas! Your Majesty has regarded this envoy as a mere persuader from the very beginning. Your determination not to be deceived by sophistry has taken precedence. I do not utter these words for personal gain. With single-minded devotion to peace between our nations, I have desperately urged this for Shu and Wu’s sake. Kindly send your reply to Shu through an envoy. Having spoken all an envoy should convey, I shall now end my life to prove their truth before your eyes.”

No sooner had Deng Zhi declared this than he dashed from his seat and tried to leap from the balustrade into the great cauldron of boiling oil. “Wait, sir!” At Sun Quan’s bellow, court officials rushed over and seized Deng Zhi from behind just as he was about to jump. “I fully grasp your sincerity, sir,” Sun Quan said. “There are ministers who serve as envoys to foreign lands without disgracing their sovereign’s command, and there are prime ministers who recognize such men and employ them wisely. Shu’s future can be divined from this single matter alone.” He gestured respectfully. “Sir, first take your seat as an honored guest. We will give full consideration to your country’s wishes.”

Abruptly, Sun Quan shifted his demeanor. Immediately ordering his attendants, he had a grand banquet prepared in the rear hall, extended the courtesies due to an honored guest, and welcomed Deng Zhi anew. Deng Zhi’s mission was a great success.

Was it his fervor that caused Sun Quan to undergo a sudden change of heart, or was it because the groundwork to abandon Wei had already been laid within Sun Quan’s mind? In any case, the possibility of restoring diplomatic relations between Wu and Shu was now secured there, and Deng Zhi was treated with utmost hospitality, remaining in Jianye for ten days. In preparation for his return, Wu official Zhang Yun was newly appointed as a return envoy and was to go to Shu together with Deng Zhi. However, compared to Deng Zhi, this Zhang Yun was of much inferior character,

("We won't sign any treaty so easily," he thought. "Only after I've seen Shu's actual state with my own eyes." With an attitude declaring "The treaty's fate rests solely on my report," Zhang Yun approached Shu. In Shu—having acknowledged this initial success in their Wu policy—the entire nation from Later Ruler Liu Shan downward expressed jubilation. The day Zhang Yun entered the capital gates saw extraordinary welcomes. This made Zhang Yun grow even more arrogant. He looked down contemptuously at Shu's officials, and when entering the palace hall, sat to Emperor Liu Shan's left, carrying himself with the haughty demeanor of a tiger.)

On the third day, a welcome banquet was held in the Xingyun Hall of Chengdu Palace for him. That evening as well, Zhang Yun acted with utter insolence, but Kongming treated him with even greater respect and allowed him to have his way.

III

When the wine had reached its peak, Kongming turned to Zhang Yun and said—repeating his words with utmost humility and deference—“Lord Liu Shan, the late Emperor’s orphaned son who has recently ascended to the precious throne also deeply admires King Wu’s virtue in private. Upon your return homeward journey’s completion may Your Excellency petition His Majesty King Wu that Shu and Wu forge an enduring friendship through which we might jointly strike at Wei and soon share mutual prosperity’s joy? With utmost sincerity do I entreat you to lend your efforts toward this end.” His speech remained measured throughout while maintaining profound courtesy.

“Hmm… Well, we’ll see how things play out.” Zhang Yun narrowed his eyes sidelong at Kongming while speaking, deliberately steering the conversation elsewhere as he affected the airs of a dignified adult and laughed contemptuously. When his departure day finally arrived, the imperial court bestowed lavish gifts of gold and silks, while Kongming and all civil-military officials presented parting tokens of brocade and precious metals. Zhang Yun’s face brimmed with smug delight. Then, as he attended the final banquet at Kongming’s estate, a brawny man came stomping into the midst of the revelry,

“Ah, Master Yun, I hear you’ll be departing tomorrow.” “How was it?” “What are your observations of Shu?” “Hahaha.” “Well then, let me have a cup,” he said, suddenly reaching forward from his seat near the guest of honor.

Zhang Yun, as if his dignity had been wounded, made an unpleasant expression and turned to his host Kongming,

“Who is this person? He—” he asked.

Kongming answered and introduced him as Qin Mi, a scholar of Yizhou with the style name Zichuo. Zhang Yun sneered,

“A scholar?” “No—these young scholars nowadays…”

Then Qin Mi composed his expression and turned his gaze sharply toward him. “Though you speak of youth, in our land of Shu, even three-year-old children are all accustomed to learning.” “Therefore, once they surpass twenty years of age, everyone possesses a fully capable level of scholarship.” “Then, what have *you* studied?” “From astronomy above to geography below—the Three Teachings and Nine Schools, the Hundred Philosophers, the rise and fall of past and present, and the texts of sages and worthies—there is no work I have not studied,” Qin Mi boldly declared, and then—

“In the state of Wu, at what age does one finally become recognized as a scholar in society? Even if they finally acquire what passes for scholarship at sixty or seventy, how many years would remain for them to contribute to the world—isn’t that so?”

Zhang Yun, who had been in such high spirits, made a face as if his cheeks had been rubbed against the grain. And then—whether he thought [Qin Mi] was a detestable young upstart, or whether he sought to boast of his own scholarship—

“Then allow me to test you with a question.” With that, he posed difficult questions one after another across astronomy, geography, the classics, histories, and military strategy. However, Scholar Qin Mi cited examples from antiquity to the present, recited phrases and passages from texts verbatim, and answered each question one by one—his responses flowing like a turbulent river without the slightest hesitation, leaving all listeners utterly captivated. Zhang Yun wore a completely sobered expression. “Does Shu have many such talented individuals?”

At last, he fell silent and, as if ashamed of himself, slipped away from the banquet hall before anyone noticed.

Kongming, greatly worried that he might make him leave Shu in shame, invited him to a separate room. “Your Excellency has already attained the practical scholarship to pacify the realm and govern the state, but one such as Qin Mi remains a youth who wields scholarship merely as scholarship—it is, so to speak, the difference between an adult and a child. I beg you to forgive this.” “No one took the banter during the drinking as anything more than momentary jest.” and deeply apologized to console him.

And Zhang Yun too said, "Oh, the young ones—I don't think anything of it either," regaining his composure. The following day, he returned to his country, accompanied once more by Deng Zhi serving as Shu's reciprocal envoy. Before long, the Shu-Wu alliance was formally established, with official documents exchanged between both nations.

Full-Scale Warship Construction

1

In Wei, they had recently lost two key ministers in succession. Grand Marshal Cao Ren and strategist Jia Xu had died of illness. Both were great losses to the state. "Wu has formed an alliance with Shu." At this very moment, when Emperor Cao Pi was told this by Imperial Attendant Xin Pi, "It must be a mistake," he dismissed outright. However, successive reports pounded irrefutable facts into his ears. Cao Pi was enraged. "Good! If it’s come to light so plainly, all the better to settle this. Was our dawdling at advancing through the gorge entrance also because of this? I will not rest until they have felt the full force of this retribution!"

With a single order, he immediately advanced southward, creating a posture as if the large army would crush Wu in unison.

Xin Pi remonstrated to stop him. “Today, when even the five-pronged operation against Shu’s borders has ended in failure, launching another campaign against Wu once more would hardly be favorable domestically.” “You rotten scholar—keep your mouth out of military affairs! For what purpose have Shu and Wu formed this alliance? That is to say—isn’t it to attack our Wei capital? Do you expect us to sit complacently and wait for that?”

The wrath of the dragon was fearsome to behold. At that time, Sima Zhongda offered counsel: “Wu’s defenses take the Yangtze as their lifeblood. If we do not make naval forces our mainstay and possess powerful warships, we cannot expect certain victory.” This preparation aligned perfectly with Cao Pi’s own thinking. Wei’s naval forces already possessed approximately two thousand boats and over a hundred warships, but they now had dozens of shipyards working around the clock to build even more vessels. Moreover, in this shipbuilding plan, they constructed groundbreaking large warships unlike any before. The keel measured over twenty zhang in length and could carry over two thousand soldiers. They called these Dragon Ships, and after launching over a dozen of them, in the autumn month of August in the fifth year of Huangchu of Wei, they added over three thousand other vessels and descended upon Wu like “a floating Great Wall.”

They selected an operational route that bypassed the Yangtze River, advancing from Cai and Ying into the Huai River in Hubei Province, proceeding through Shouchun and Guangling. There, spanning the Yangtze, they would engage Wu's naval forces in a decisive river battle before immediately conducting an amphibious landing on the southern bank at Nanxu and pressing toward Jianye. Once again, Cao Zhen of the imperial clan led the vanguard, supported by veteran commanders Zhang Liao, Zhang He, Wen Ping, and Xu Huang. Xu Chu and Lü Qian guarded the central army, assembling the massive force around the imperial banners at the heart of the emperor's personal campaign.

The impact Wu suffered was immense.

“To think he would launch such a sudden attack—” Sun Quan too was thrown into panic, and his ministers paled. At this moment, Gu Yong spoke up: “Since this army was born of the Shu-Wu alliance, Shu is naturally obligated to mobilize its entire nation to support us. We must inform Kongming and have the Shu army strike at Chang’an while Wu fortifies Nanxu’s strategic points,” he argued—yet even such measures seemed woefully inadequate against the looming threat.

“Let us summon Lu Xun—Lu Xun! —Without him, no sound strategy could be devised.”

Sun Quan abruptly attempted to recall him from Jingzhou, but Xu Sheng, who was present at that day’s council, declared reproachfully: “Your Majesty, all your subjects consider themselves your limbs. Why then does Your Majesty so lightly regard your own limbs?” Xu Sheng, whose style name was Wenxiang, was a man from Langya Ju County and had long been renowned for his military acumen. Sun Quan gazed in his direction and said: “Ah! There you are, Xu Sheng! If you personally take charge of Jiangnan’s defense, what would there be to worry about? I will entrust you with the military forces of Jianye and Nanxu. How about appointing you as Grand Commander?”

He stared intently at him, as if trying to gauge the depth of his conviction.

Xu Sheng gave a clear answer. “If Your Majesty would entrust this unworthy Xu Sheng with such a great responsibility, I will stake my very life to crush Wei’s large army and present the victory before you. Should I fail, even were Your Majesty to execute my nine clans and investigate my crimes, I would certainly harbor no resentment.”

Part Two

It was reported that Wei’s grand expeditionary fleet, mobilizing all its strength, had already descended from Cai and Ying (Henan and Anhui Provinces) to the Huai River, with its vanguard swiftly approaching Shouchun (Nanyang, Henan Province). With each arrival of these urgent reports, all of Wu’s officers and soldiers staked their lives on the front line of national defense, “If we do not win here, there will be no country; without this country, there is no us,” they mustered their total strength.

However, a single troublemaker emerged who opposed every order from the newly appointed National Defense Commander-in-Chief Xu Sheng. He was a young general who was Sun Quan’s nephew—a youth named Sun Shao, style name Gongli. This Sun Shao held as his firm belief: “We must gather our forces without delay, cross to the north of the river, and crush Wei’s naval fleet in Huainan—the southern bank of the Huai River in Henan.” He had consistently argued: “If we keep clamoring about national defense and idly wait for the enemy, once Wei’s large army lands here, the people throughout the country will panic, leading to unmanageable consequences.”

Xu Sheng was vehemently opposed, “Crossing the great river to fight already puts us at grave disadvantage.” “Wei’s vanguard has gathered nothing but seasoned veteran commanders.” “They would never be defeated by some rash surprise attack—it is only when they ride their momentum, cross the river, and gather here that we will annihilate Wei.” Having advocated this, he proceeded with all necessary preparations under that policy. It was heard that Wei’s warships had already surged into the Huai River, and nearby strategic points were left to the ravages of their land forces. Sun Shao gnashed his teeth,

“Can you just sit idly by and watch this?” he pressed Xu Sheng repeatedly. “Your passive tactics are flawed! If you lend me an army I’ll cross north and bring back Cao Pi’s head!” He pleaded for permission while threatening desertion—throwing such a tantrum that Xu Sheng finally snapped. “Disruptor of military discipline!” Scowling at Sun Shao’s defiance, he ordered guards:

“Behead Sun Shao!” “Leaving such a willful man unpunished, I cannot enforce my commands upon the generals!” he declared, taking decisive action. The warriors dragged Sun Shao out and pushed him beyond the camp gates. They prepared to carry out the execution, but since he was King Sun Quan’s cherished nephew, “You do it!” “No—you do it!” they bickered noisily over who should wield the blade, wasting time in their dispute. Meanwhile—for someone must have rushed word to the Wu palace—the King himself came galloping in alarm to save him, spurring his horse in desperate haste.

Sun Shao, having been saved by his uncle, seized the moment to press his appeal further. “Since I was previously stationed in Guangling, I have memorized the geography of that area as if holding it in my hand. So I proposed my ideas to Xu Sheng and requested that he lend me an army, but he took it as an affront to his dignity and instead tried to sentence me to execution.” Because Sun Quan was fond of this nephew, he greatly valued his admirable resolve. “Hmm, hmm… So, what you’re advocating is that before the enemy Cao Pi can cross the Yangtze with his great fleet, we should charge forth and strike him down?”

“Exactly.” “Because if we idly wait for Wei’s large army, I believe Wu will perish.” “Very well, very well.” “Let us go together to his camp and ask Xu Sheng what his reasoning is.” “Follow me.”

With that, he set out, accompanied by the executioners and warriors as well.

Xu Sheng welcomed the king and was surprised by his visit, but composing himself, he admonished His Majesty. “Was it not Your Majesty who appointed this humble servant as Grand Commander? Now that I am rigorously enforcing military discipline, how could Your Majesty personally violate martial law?” Before this irrefutable logic, even the King of Wu found no words to reply, only citing Sun Shao’s youth and fiery valor as justification: “Forgive him.” “Now, now—just this once, spare him.”

He could only repeat his pleas.

The Naval Battle of the Huai River

1.

For Sun Quan, his nephew Sun Shao was both the son of his sworn elder brother and heir to that brother's household—the Yu Clan. Should he be executed, his brother's lineage would meet its end. Though positioned as King of Wu, even he could not override military law's severity. Thus did Sun Quan lay bare these circumstances to Xu Sheng while pleading for his nephew's life. "In deference to Your Majesty's imperial visage, I shall pardon the capital punishment." "Yet after this war concludes, I may still impose penalties." "Let this be clearly understood."

In response to the king’s words, Xu Sheng also had no choice but to concede. Sun Quan said to his nephew who was by his side.

“Express your gratitude to the Grand Commander. Bow your head in gratitude.” Then, Sun Shao said defiantly, “No!”

he shook his head. And then, on the contrary, he raised his voice even louder, “I will never submit to the utterly cowardly strategies of the Grand Commander! Though my disobedience may violate military discipline, I believe it is the greatest strategy for Wu. How could this loyal soul ever fear death? And bending my initial resolve is utterly detestable!” he spat out. In the face of this obstinacy, it seemed even the King of Wu was at a complete loss,

“You selfish brat! Xu Sheng, never again employ such a willful creature in your camp!”

With that, as if he could no longer bear to stay, he suddenly mounted his horse and returned to the palace gate.

Then, that night,

“Sun Shao took three thousand subordinates, launched warships without authorization, and crossed the Yangtze River.”

The news that Sun Shao had taken three thousand subordinates, arbitrarily launched warships, and crossed the river startled Xu Sheng from his sleep.

“Tch.” “So he finally slipped away.” Xu Sheng was furious, but he couldn’t simply abandon him to die. Without delay, he ordered Ding Feng’s four thousand troops to pursue them as reinforcements.

That day, Wei’s large fleet had advanced as far as Guangling. The vanguard’s scout ships ventured out from the river into the Yangtze River but found only overflowing waters, with no usual traffic and not a shadow of a single small boat to be seen. Cao Pi, upon hearing this, “Perhaps there is some scheme the Wu forces on the southern bank are plotting.” “We shall personally conduct a grand inspection.”

Having said this, he had his flagship Longjian sail out from the river mouth into the Yangtze River, then ascended to the ship’s deck to survey the southern bank. Upon the flagship fluttered flags of five colors depicting dragons, phoenixes, suns, and moons, while white yak-tail banners and golden axes were arrayed with such dazzling brilliance that it nearly blinded the eyes; from Guangling’s riverbanks to its lakes great and small, countless warships burned lanterns whose flames obscured even the stars that filled the sky—yet when one gazed upon Wu’s southern coastline anywhere, it remained uniformly dark as lacquer. Jiang Ji, who stood at his side, advised.

“Your Majesty. “Given the current situation, even if we launch a full-scale attack on the opposite shore, there may not be much of a counterattack.” “No, no!”

It was Liu Ye who hurriedly interjected. He cautioned: “In warfare, the real and feigned are indistinguishable; even gods and spirits cannot fathom them. That is the essence of military strategy. We must not be hasty in seeking victory—first, we should spend several days thoroughly observing the enemy’s intentions.” “That’s right,” Cao Pi agreed. “There’s no need to rush.”

Cao Pi also agreed. He had already mentally conquered Wu. Before long, moonlight shone. Several fast boats came rowing like arrows. They were scout ships that had ventured deep into enemy territory. According to their report, “Throughout Wu’s territory, no matter which shore we observed, it was desolate and devoid of people.” “There are no lights in the towns—the villages resemble graveyards.” “Having learned of our forces’ impending attack, they may have already evacuated.”

Cao Pi also laughed heartily. "That must be the case," he nodded.

As the fifth watch approached, a thick fog rolled in across the entire river region. For a time, only the swirling misty winds and black waves—impenetrable even at arm’s length—churned the air. However, as night ended and the sun rose high, the fog was blown away, revealing a clear sky so bright that even the opposite shore ten ri away could be seen as if held in one’s hand.

“Ah!” “What is that?”

The officers and soldiers on the deck were all shocked, pointing in alarm. A general ran up to the ship’s deck and was loudly announcing the shocking news to Cao Pi’s cabin.

Two Wu’s Grand Commander Xu Sheng was by no means idle or without a strategy. It was later realized that his much-praised staunch defense had been precisely the prelude to transitioning soon to an aggressive offensive. Now at dawn, as officers and soldiers aboard ship were exclaiming in shock, Cao Pi too emerged from his cabin. When he shaded his eyes to look, he saw it was indeed no wonder his subordinates had been terrified. Wu’s coastline for hundreds of li had transformed its appearance overnight.

Just last night, the scout ships’ crews had reported that not a single light could be seen, not a single flag was visible, and no human figures were present in either the ports or villages—yet now, surveying the scene, the ports were lined with land fortresses and water strongholds, mountains teemed with fluttering banners, hills bore crossbow platforms and stone catapult towers, and along every strategic point of the riverbanks, countless warships gathered their mastheads like a forest, declaring with martial fervor that there in those waters lay Wu’s impregnable defense. “Ah, what manner of strategy is this? It appears Wu possesses a commander of caliber even Wei lacks.”

Cao Pi involuntarily let out a long sigh and, though they were enemies, praised them as splendid. In essence, this was Xu Sheng of Wu covering all defensive facilities visible from the river with vegetation and cloth, moving residents elsewhere, applying camouflage to castle walls, and completely blinding the enemy’s eyes. And when Xu Sheng observed that Cao Pi’s flagship and Wei’s entire fleet now showed signs of emerging from the Huai River’s narrows into the Yangtze, he cast off all coastal camouflage overnight and resolutely displayed a posture for decisive battle.

“Given his conviction and preparedness, it is difficult to predict what schemes he might have,” Cao Pi abruptly issued a command and attempted to turn back toward the Huai River port. However, misfortune struck as his flagship ran aground on a sandbar at the narrow river mouth, resulting in chaotic efforts to tow it off until sunset.

Just as the hull finally left the sandbar, a gale fiercer than the previous night’s erupted. All ships were tossed wildly through the air; waves shattered decks and threw men down—it became a night of pure terror. “Look out! Look out! We’ll run aground again!” In the darkness, they shouted warnings while being battered by the tempest. Soon ships collided with ships, rudders were smashed, masts snapped, and amid the roaring fury of heaven and earth gone mad, the entire fleet lost all power to move.

Cao Pi, seasick from the ship, lay in his cabin like a gravely ill patient. Wen Ping carried him on his back, leapt into a small boat, and with great difficulty landed at a trading port nestled within the Huai River's embrace. His seasickness healed as soon as his feet touched solid ground, as though forgotten. Wei’s land headquarters stood here, and when he entered it, he had already regained his usual vigor—the vigor characteristic of Cao Pi.

“Ugh! What a terrible ordeal I’ve endured—though this storm should subside by dawn,” Cao Pi had been saying while conferring with his generals. But even that proved fleeting.

When midnight arrived, two couriers arrived amidst this storm,

“Shu’s great general Zhao Yun has emerged from Yangping Pass and launched a long-distance assault on our Chang’an!” Upon receiving this grave report, Cao Pi turned pale once more. “Chang’an is a vital stronghold situated at Wei’s very heart. Having discerned that our expedition would be prolonged, Kongming has surely seized this opening to strike at our weakness. We cannot leave this unattended for even a moment!” Suddenly, that very night, an order for full withdrawal was issued to both land and naval forces. Emperor Cao Pi waited for the winds to subside slightly before attempting to return to his Dragon Ship.

Then, from somewhere across the river, approximately three thousand soldiers set fire to Wei's main camp, annihilating it in a single strike, and pursued the Wei Emperor.

“Allies?” “Is it an accidental fire?”

What they had assumed to be allies or accidental fire turned out to be Wu forces. Emperor Cao Pi and his generals were thrown into utter panic. Abandoning their allies—now forming mountains of corpses as they were swiftly cut down—they barely managed to flee back to the Dragon Ship. After rowing upstream along the Huai River for about ten li, suddenly the left bank, right bank, and the lake ahead all transformed into a sea of flames in an instant. This area had reeds so thick that even large ships' shadows could be hidden, but the Wu army had doused them with copious amounts of fish oil beforehand and set everything ablaze all at once that night.

Thousands of Wei's large and small ships—consumed by fierce flames on either side, engulfed by oil-fueled fiery dragons raging across the waves—burned and sank in the distance or exploded nearby, leaving hundreds of li along the Huai River shrouded in dense black smoke even by the next day, rendering this outcome impossible to behold.

The Nanman Campaign

One A few days after Cao Pi’s grand ambitions ended in vain and he withdrew, gazing out across the Huai River region revealed nothing but a desolate haze stretching as far as the eye could see—scorched reeds lining both banks, the wreckage of massive warships and smaller vessels burned and sunk, and the endlessly drifting corpses of Wei soldiers upon oil-slicked waters. Truly, Wei’s losses at this time were no less than the great defeat at Red Cliffs suffered during Cao Cao’s era. It was said that human casualties alone had likely exceeded one-third of their forces, while the ships rendered inoperable and abandoned—along with provisions and weapons—amounted to an immense tally for Wu’s captures. But what truly compelled them to proclaim the triumph’s glory was—

“Wei’s renowned general Zhang Liao was also among those who met their deaths in battle.” Thus was it reported. From this, Wu’s defense capabilities gained unshakable confidence in their impregnability. When conferring honors for military merits, the one recommended as having achieved the foremost accomplishments was Sun Shao—Sun Quan’s nephew. “Boldly penetrating enemy territory, he skillfully seized tactical opportunities, struck Wei’s main camp, threw Cao Pi’s retinue into disarray, and cut down countless famed enemy generals—”

It was a memorial from Grand Commander Xu Sheng that stated [the above], but Sun Quan— “No, no. “They cannot compare to the grand strategy of the Grand Commander, who meticulously prepared a far-reaching plan to achieve this great victory by making the Wei army grow arrogant and luring them into the Huai River’s narrows. “The foremost military achievement must be none other than Xu Sheng.” Thus did he praise [Xu Sheng], placing him in first place, Sun Shao in second, and sequentially awarding merits from third place down to Ding Feng and the others.

The following year, Shu welcomed the spring of the third year of Jianxing in peace. Shu's prosperity was evident. Kongming had ably supported the young emperor and devoted himself to internal governance and strengthening national power. The people of Liangchuan also became deeply devoted to his virtue, and the city of Chengdu no longer barred its gates even at night. Moreover, for the past two or three years, there had been consecutive bountiful harvests. The people all willingly worked on public works projects, and heartwarming scenes of young and old filling their bellies with joy could be seen everywhere in the countryside.

However, even such a peaceful and prosperous state could not escape being swiftly thrust back into the tumult of military affairs, depending on the situation in its neighboring regions. At that time, frequent couriers on swift horses from the south entered Chengdu,

“Meng Huo, King of the Nanman Kingdom, has invaded the border regions. The commanderies of Jianning, Ke, and Yuexi have all aligned themselves with him. Only Wang Kang, Prefectural Governor of Yongchang Commandery, remains loyal and struggles on with his isolated army, but the situation is such that it could fall at any moment.” At this time, Kongming was truly decisive and swift in his decisions. That very morning, he attended court and had an audience with the Later Sovereign Liu Shan, “The Nanman must be subjugated once and for all. If Your Majesty does not demonstrate imperial authority over them, they will become a perpetual threat to the state. “I have long considered the timing for this, but Your Majesty can no longer delay. “Since Your Majesty is still young, I humbly request that you devote yourself to governance in Chengdu during my absence.”

With that, he bade farewell. The Later Sovereign looked exceedingly uneasy,

“I hear Nanman’s climate is one of extraordinary, unbearable heat,” said the Later Sovereign with an expression that seemed to dread their parting. “Why not dispatch another great general instead?” But Kongming shook his head in refusal.

“Even without my presence, the defenses at our four borders will remain secure. I specifically stationed Li Yan at Baidi Castle—he should be fully capable of thwarting Wu’s Lu Xun’s stratagems. Moreover, since Wei suffered heavy losses in both troops and warships during their campaign against Wu last year, we can safely assume they lack the vigor to suddenly redirect their ambitions elsewhere.”

After offering various words of comfort and requesting a brief leave of absence—to which the Later Sovereign finally nodded in assent—Imperial Counselor Wang Lian, who stood beside him, once again urged: “Though the Prime Minister is a pillar of the state upon whom we rely, for you to be sent on an expedition to those southern barbarian lands with their harsh climate and terrain—this unsettles us deeply. The Nanman disturbances are like, say, a festering boil—a mere skin rash. If you fuss over it, it becomes an irritating ailment, but left alone, it will heal on its own in time—is there truly no way Your Excellency might reconsider?”

Two In response to Wang Lian's loyal counsel, Kongming expressed gratitude for his goodwill yet remained steadfast, declaring thus without altering his original resolve.

“Your words are most reasonable, but the Nanman lands are barren and plagued by miasma, far removed from civilization. Moreover, their indigenous people remain unaccustomed to royal governance. To rule them, mere force alone proves insufficient, yet neither can we indulge them solely with material benefits. “To balance rigidity with flexibility, martial force with benevolent virtue, and adapt to the times to ensure complete preparedness—I myself must lead this expedition. “By no means does Kongming desire this for the sake of boasting about minor achievements.” Though Wang Lian continued to remonstrate repeatedly, Kongming refused to yield. That very day, he selected dozens of generals, divided them into various units, and led a total force of over five hundred thousand troops southward toward Yizhou.

On the way, Guan Yu’s third son and Guan Xing’s younger brother—Guan Suo—joined alone on a single horse. “Where have you been all this time?”

With that, Kongming regarded him with suspicion yet spoke through tears. This was because Guan Suo had been confirmed as killed in action at Jingzhou’s fall while fighting alongside his father Guan Yu—until this very day. “When Jingzhou fell,” Guan Suo explained, “I sustained grave injuries and was sheltered by the Bao family.” “Upon hearing rumors of Your Excellency’s southern campaign against the Nanman, I raced here day and night without pause.” “Then join the vanguard,” Kongming declared, “and achieve merits worthy of your father’s name.” “Your arrival here must surely be guided by Lord Guan Yu’s spirit.” “In any case, that you—whom we thought dead—now stand once more beneath Shu’s banners bodes well for this campaign.”

Kongming’s joy was immense, and the resurrected Guan Suo eagerly joined the vanguard forces.

They had already entered the southern regions of Yizhou. The mountains stood precipitous and the climate blazed with heat; the hardships of military campaigning proved utterly incomparable to Central Plains warfare. The Prefectural Governor of Jianning (Kunming, Yunnan Province) had formed a united front with Zhu Bao of Yongkai Commandery, "Kongming himself coming is exactly what we hoped for." With this declaration, they first deployed sixty thousand troops to the mountain pass, lying in wait to crush the advancing forces. The general commanding these sixty thousand was named E Huan. His face resembled indigo ink freshly painted, fang-like teeth perpetually bared beyond his lips. When enraged, he appeared akin to a wrathful demonic spirit. Wielding a Fangtianji halberd, he bore renown throughout Yunnan as a warrior without peer—a fierce general said to surpass ten thousand men.

On the first day of the initial battle, it was Shu’s Wei Yan who faced them. Wei Yan, having been entrusted with a strategy by Kongming, refrained from reckless valor and relied solely on cunning to wear him down. On the seventh day of battle, he joined forces with the allied commanders Zhang Yi and Wang Ping’s two divisions, adroitly drove the fierce general E Huan into a tightly encircled trap, and captured him alive. However, Kongming untied the ropes, released him, and just before his departure, admonished him thus: “Your lord must be Gao Ding of Yuexi.” “Gao Ding is by nature a loyal and righteous man; he must have been deceived by the ambitious Yong Kai into joining the rebellion.” “When you return, you should also earnestly offer loyal counsel to Gao Ding.”

E Huan, whose life had been spared, returned to his own army’s encampment and immediately met with his lord Gao Ding to speak of the Shu army’s might and Kongming’s virtue. Unfortunately, Yong Kai arrived there at that very moment. Yong Kai widened his eyes and looked at E Huan. “I heard you were captured by the enemy in today’s battle, but why have you returned here?” Gao Ding responded to that, “Kongming is truly a benevolent man; combining reason and compassion, he admonished E Huan and spared his life, allowing him to return.”

Then Yong Kai burst out laughing derisively. "That's just that guy's deception at work." "The so-called benevolence of Shu is inherently hostile to us, isn't it?" While he was saying this, a night attack occurred, and with the discussion left unfinished, Yong Kai fled back to his own castle. The next day, Yong Kai emerged from his castle and forged a firm alliance with his ally Gao Ding. They incessantly beat barbarian drums and shell gongs to challenge them to battle, but Kongming merely watched with a smile.

“Stand by and observe for a while.”

For three days they did not fight; for four days they did not sally forth. For approximately seven days in total, they remained tranquil within their stockade.

Three “The Shu army is weak,” they seemed to conclude naively. Around the eighth day, the Nanman forces advanced en masse. As if he had mapped out the terrain beforehand with meticulous planning, Kongming had been awaiting this moment. And they took a great number of prisoners.

The prisoners were divided into two groups and placed into two separate detention camps. In one group, they placed only Yong Kai’s soldiers, and in the other, they confined solely Gao Ding’s troops.

And deliberately, Kongming had rumors spread throughout the area.

“Since Gao Ding was originally loyal to Shu, it seems his subordinates will be released, but Yong Kai’s men will all be executed.”

One detention camp rejoiced. In one detention camp, they wept in sorrow.

After a few days, Zhuge Liang first brought out Yong Kai’s soldiers and interrogated them group by group. “Whose subordinates are you?”

“We are Gao Ding’s soldiers.” “Is that so?” “We are indeed Gao Ding’s soldiers.” Not a single one answered that they were Yong Kai’s subordinates. “Very well. Since you are Gao Ding’s soldiers, I shall grant you special clemency.” “No one knows Gao Ding’s loyalty better than I, Kongming.” They untied their bonds and set them all free.

The next day. This time, they brought out Gao Ding’s actual soldiers, untied their bonds as well, and even served them wine. And then Kongming stood among them,

“Your lord Gao Ding is a truly admirable and honest man. A man of such integrity would never rebel against Shu—he has been utterly deceived by Yong Kai and Zhu Bao. As proof, today a secret envoy came from Yong Kai who pleaded with the Shu Emperor that if he would guarantee the safety of their territories and promise rewards, he would deliver the heads of Gao Ding and Zhu Bao at any time—and then departed. I sent him back because I believe in Gao Ding’s integrity and loyalty, but does this not alone show that your master is being used as Yong Kai’s pawn?”

He recounted this to them as if sharing casual gossip. The simple-minded Nanman soldiers, released back to their own camp, all effusively praised Kongming’s magnanimity and even cautioned their lord Gao Ding: “You mustn’t lower your guard against Yong Kai.” Gao Ding too grew suspicious and secretly dispatched a spy to Yong Kai’s camp. The man returned reporting that even there, Yong Kai’s subordinates clustered together praising Kongming at every turn—leaving it utterly unclear whether Kongming was an enemy or an ally.

“……So after all, are Yong Kai and Kongming colluding?”

He sent a trusted subordinate to investigate Kongming’s camp as an added precaution.

However, that man was discovered en route by Shu’s ambush party, “This one’s suspicious!” and was dragged before Kongming. When Kongming saw him at a glance, “Ah! Are you not the man who came before as Yong Kai’s envoy?” “We have been waiting eagerly since then—why has there been no word? What have you been up to?” “Make haste! Return and inform your master Yong Kai that we await his favorable response.”

Then he prepared a letter, entrusted it to a subordinate, and had them send it to a safe location. The man, having narrowly escaped death, returned to Gao Ding’s camp, leaping for joy. Gao Ding, who had been waiting impatiently, asked, “How did it go?”

When he asked, the man doubled over with laughter and said, "When I was captured along the way and thought I was done for, that Kongming fellow seemed to mistake me for Yong Kai’s envoy. He wrote this letter and told me to deliver it to Yong Kai." "First, please take a look at this."

and presented it before his master.

Gao Ding was astonished when he saw it. It stated that if Gao Ding took Zhu Bao’s head and pledged surrender, he would petition the Emperor of Shu to bestow great rewards upon him—and furthermore, it was an urgent missive pressing for this to be done without delay. Gao Ding groaned deeply and was lost in thought, but eventually called his general E Huan and showed him the letter, “What do you make of this?” “And how do you perceive Yong Kai’s true intentions?” Gao Ding consulted him in a breathless rush.

Four

As for E Huan, he was even more thick-skinned than his lord. He instantly bared his teeth in rage. "With such evidence before us, there's no reason for hesitation." "If you still harbor any doubts, host a banquet in camp and invite Yong Kai to test his loyalty." "If he comes openly, he acts in good faith. If he hesitates, his treachery is certain."

Moreover, as a second plan, he also advised the following. “If he does not come, that bastard’s duplicity will be clear as day, so you yourself should launch a surprise attack tonight at midnight.” “This one will lead a separate force and attack the rear of the camp.” Gao Ding finally resolved to carry it out as planned. Sure enough, Yong Kai did not come, using a military council as his excuse.

Gao Ding carried out the night attack. This was a bolt from the blue for Yong Kai. Moreover, Yong Kai’s subordinates had been in a somewhat demoralized mood for some time, and among them were even those who joined forces with Gao Ding’s soldiers and aided the collapse from within. As a result, Yong Kai could not withstand a single battle and attempted to flee alone on horseback. E Huan, who had reached the rear gate, immediately brandished his trusted halberd and, with a single strike, took his head. At dawn, Gao Ding, carrying the head, surrendered to Kongming’s camp. After verifying the head, Kongming suddenly turned to the warriors on either side and,

“Cut down this traitor.”

Gao Ding was astonished. He both wailed and spoke resentfully. "Your Excellency, throughout this campaign, you have repeatedly shown mercy to this unworthy Gao Ding, for which I have been deeply grateful. Now that I have come pledging surrender, why must I be executed at once? What reason could there be for this? Are you a demon wearing the mask of a benevolent man?" "No matter what you may claim, your surrender is undoubtedly a deception. I have long commanded armies—how could I be taken in by the schemes of one such as you?"

Kongming produced a letter from the box and thrust it forward. "Behold this!" he declared, flinging it before Gao Ding. The document bore Zhu Bao's unmistakable handwriting. Gao Ding's face flushed crimson as his trembling hands clutched the paper. "Observe carefully," Kongming commanded. "Zhu Bao's letter clearly advises that since you and Yong Kai share a bond stronger than death, one must not let down their guard against you." He leaned forward, voice sharpening like a whetstone. "From this alone, we discern two truths—this head is counterfeit, and your surrender coordinates with his scheme. You may protest—'Why trust Zhu Bao's fragmented words?'—but remember this: Zhu Bao had already pleaded for surrender not once or twice." A cold smile played on his lips. "His haste stems solely from lacking sufficient merit to prove himself."

Upon hearing this, Gao Ding clenched his teeth, leapt up, and shouted. “Your Excellency! Your Excellency! Please grant Gao Ding a few days of life. The one I can never hate enough is Zhu Bao! It was that bastard who first drew me into Yong Kai’s rebellion! And now, he seeks to accomplish his treacherous scheme by betraying this Gao Ding—even if I were to devour his flesh and crush his bones, it would not sate my hatred for such a beast! If I fall for that bastard’s trickery and am executed here like this, Gao Ding will die with unresolved regrets!”

“What would you do if I granted you a few days of life?” “Of course—if I carry Zhu Bao’s head to prove my loyalty and then receive proper punishment, I would die content.”

“Very well,” said Kongming. “Go forth.” He encouraged him thus. After three days had passed, Gao Ding returned to the military gate leading a force greater than before. Placing Zhu Bao’s head before Kongming, he declared: “This is no counterfeit head! Open your eyes wide and behold it clearly!”

he said.

Kongming saw it at a glance and immediately declared, “Indeed, indeed.”

He slapped his knee and then said, "The previous head—that was indeed Yong Kai." "I merely made such a momentary outburst because I wanted to let you achieve great merit." "Do not take it amiss." With a laugh, he commended his efforts. This Gao Ding was soon after appointed Prefectural Governor of the Three Commanderies of Yizhou.

Southern Campaign Atlas

I With the pacification of Yizhou, the corrupt prefectural governors who had been disrupting the Shu-Man border now completely ceased their activities. Consequently, even the siege of Yongchang Commandery—which had been isolated among rebels until Kongming’s arrival—lifted on its own. Prefectural Governor Wang Kang, “With General Winter gone, it feels as though I am finally able to bask in the spring sun after so long.” said through tears of emotion as he opened the city gates and welcomed Kongming’s army. When Kongming entered the city, he praised Wang Kang’s unwavering loyalty and simultaneously inquired,

“It appears your domain has excellent retainers,” said Zhuge Liang. “Now then—who was primarily responsible for ensuring this small city remained well defended for you?” “That would be a man called Lü Kai,” replied Wang Kang. “With your permission, I shall summon him at once.” “Do so.”

Lü Kai, courtesy name Jiping. Before long, Lü Kai prostrated himself before Kongming.

Kongming, as an eminent scholar, welcomed him and later solicited his opinion on the subjugation of the barbarian country. Lü Kai unrolled a scroll he had brought and spoke. “Rather than offering my humble opinion, if you would deign to keep this at hand, I believe it would surpass ten thousand words from this unworthy one.” “What map is this?” “It is named both the *Pacification of the Southern Barbarians Map* and the *Southern Regions Atlas*.” “The savages of the southern barbarian realm know nothing of royal governance and are unaccustomed to civilization. Moreover, they take great pride in their brute courage, wildness, and customs. Subduing them cannot be accomplished in a single morning.” “Therefore, over many years, this unworthy one secretly dispatched agents to the barbarian lands to investigate their customs, habits, weapons, and tactics, while also thoroughly studying the geography of the Southern Barbarian Kingdom—ultimately completing this single map.” “The annotations written in detail throughout the map pertain to the circumstances of the barbarian lands and their climate and terrain that I have just mentioned.”

Kongming was impressed. “The achievements of those who have silently made such preparations in peacetime must not be forgotten even in wartime.”

He sighed three times in admiration and promoted him anew to the crucial post of Expeditionary Military Instructor.

Thus, while remaining in Yongchang Castle, after sufficient preparation and research on the barbarian lands, Kongming eventually advanced his great army further south. Day after day, covering a hundred li, sometimes several hundred li, the army's supply carts and laboring oxen wound their way onward under the blazing sun. Kongming assigned military physicians to each unit and paid meticulous attention to every detail for the entire army’s soldiers—from provisions and drinking water to nocturnal pests and endemic diseases during night encampments. "An envoy from the Son of Heaven has arrived."

At the subordinate general’s words, Kongming,

“What? An imperial envoy?”

He personally went out to meet the envoy and invited him into the central camp.

When he looked, the envoy who had come was Ma Su. Kongming seemed to startle the moment he saw his figure. For Ma Su was wearing a plain, uncolored robe and a white leather breastplate—in other words, he was in mourning attire.

The quick-witted Ma Su did not overlook even the faintest flicker that had crossed Kongming’s countenance. —And so, hastening his words, “I beg forgiveness for this impropriety—appearing before your camp in mourning attire.” “To speak truthfully, before my departure, my elder brother Ma Liang had passed away—” he began with this personal disclosure, though out of sequence, first soothing Kongming’s mind before continuing: “His Majesty deigned to send this unworthy one to your camp not due to any disturbance in the capital, but rather because he could not bear the hardships endured by officers and soldiers campaigning through these barbarian hotlands. Thus has he graciously bestowed one hundred loads of fine wine from Chengdu upon the army.” “—The supply carts will arrive from the rear ere long.” “This concludes my report.”

Having stated the essentials of his message,

That evening, the bestowed wine arrived. Kongming distributed this to all armies and, amidst their starry night encampment while enjoying the southern land's coolness together, he also poured a cup of wine for Ma Su as they faced each other. After discussing various matters, he turned to Ma Su and tentatively posed a question. “Now that we are engaged in subjugating the barbarian country, I wish to hear your esteemed opinion.” “Speak without reserve.”

Ma Su remained silent for a time, but then spoke: "That is indeed a difficult matter. Establishing merit may be easy, but reaping true success is the most difficult of tasks."

he said in a youthfully candid manner.

II "When you say 'difficult,' in what way do you mean it is difficult?"

When Kongming repeated the question like a parrot, Ma Su— "Since ancient times," he began, "there has never been a successful example of subjugating the southern barbarians." "However, given that it is you, Prime Minister—now leading a great army against them—you will undoubtedly achieve great success and complete the subjugation. But again—once we return to the capital, they will immediately revert to their former state. The barbarians will harbor thoughts of rebellion, watch for weakness, and never submit fully to royal governance."

Ma Su declared without hesitation. Kongming nodded in acknowledgment while asking, “Moreover, what must be done to make such uncivilized barbarian tribes understand imperial virtue and submit wholeheartedly?” “The very reason it is supremely difficult lies there,” Ma Su replied. “The art of warfare teaches that conquering hearts is paramount, while relying on force alone is inferior—so I have been instructed. It is this unworthy one’s wish that the Prime Minister’s army might fully subjugate them through gratitude and virtue, so that even after Shu’s withdrawal, imperial influence endures eternally and rebellion never recurs.”

Kongming let out a long sigh and stated that Ma Su's esteemed opinion aligned perfectly with his own thoughts, greatly admiring his talent and resolve. Then, he dispatched an envoy to the imperial court, retained Ma Su within the camp, and kept him constantly by his side as a military advisor. While he had long recognized Ma Su’s talent, the fact that he was consulting even a junior like him on the essentials of southern governance revealed just how deeply Prime Minister Kongming was agonizing over this southern campaign, which he himself was leading.

The heavy responsibility of bearing the fate of a five-hundred-thousand-strong army under his command was self-evident. Moreover, unlike previous battlefields, the climate and terrain were harsh; transportation proved exceedingly difficult; and there were numerous rugged mountains, dense forests, and lands scarcely touched by human footprints. Should they suffer defeat even once, Wei and Wu would join hands and come flooding into Shu like a river breaching its banks. The Emperor remained too young to muster adequate strength for defending Shu's capital. Though no small number of direct vassals and loyal retainers from the late Emperor Xuande still served, should half a million soldiers turn to corpses in these remote barbarian lands while word spread of Kongming's demise, Chengdu's peril would rival eggs stacked high. With traitors emerging within and Wei-Wu forces assaulting from without, how could the state avoid destruction? The road ahead bristled with dangers while troubles lingered behind. Even during nights on campaign, not a single evening brought peace to Kongming's dreams.

Moreover, unless they absolutely accomplished the conquest of the southern barbarians, the land of Shu could never rid itself of persistent anxiety toward Wei and Wu. There was no time but now to eradicate that national calamity. Kongming rode in his customary four-wheeled carriage, holding his white-feathered fan, and day after day, mile after mile, he marched endlessly alongside five hundred thousand soldiers along the winding paths of the unfamiliar southern territory.

The fierce beasts of the dense forests and the birds of the precipitous valleys all fled southward and ever southward in disarray. Thus, in the southern barbarian tribes of Nanman,

"Kongming has come to attack."

This news spread from voice to voice like a celestial portent, and Meng Huo, King of the Nanman, had already assembled a great army. "I'll teach those Chinese bastards a lesson they won't forget!" Having declared this, he instead launched an attack far from his barbarian capital. According to intelligence swiftly gathered by Shu's scouts, the total strength of the barbarian army was learned to number approximately sixty thousand. Furthermore, they had divided their forces into three divisions of twenty thousand each and were lying in wait with those called the Three Cave Marshals—Jin Huanjie as the first, Dong Tu Nu as the second, and A Hui Nan as the third—prepared for battle.

In response to this, Kongming— “Wang Ping shall take command of the left army; Ma Zhong shall take command of the right army.” “I will lead Zhao Yun and Wei Yan and advance through the center.”

With that, he commanded. At this command, Zhao Yun and Wei Yan showed slight displeasure. The left and right armies were the vanguard, while they had been left in the rear.

However, Kongming said, “Wang Ping and Ma Zhong understand the terrain better than you.” “Moreover, being older men, they’ll make fewer mistakes even when taking unorthodox paths.” Having thus restrained the two hot-blooded generals’ impatience, he waited until both flanks had advanced deep into enemy territory before deploying the central army. Seated atop his four-wheeled carriage amidst generals within the command tent’s curtains, Kongming leisurely waved his feather fan while observing the ecology of exotic birds and plants.

Three The barbarian army built a fortress atop Wuxi Peak, deployed the Three Caves’ soldiers along the ridgeline, and secretly boasted: "The Chinese weaklings couldn’t even climb this steep terrain." Taking advantage of the moonlight, Wang Ping and Ma Zhong’s vanguard—having approached the valley path below—used a captured barbarian scout as their guide, traversed hidden trails, climbed pathless paths, and at midnight launched a sudden assault on the enemy encampment from east and west.

With battle cries, flames resembling fireworks erupted from all directions. Torches flew like meteors. Utter chaos erupted within the barbarian ranks. The barbarian commander Jin Huanjie barked orders at his men as he charged out from the flames. Spotting his silhouette, a Shu general emerged and, after a fierce struggle, severed his head and impaled it on a spear tip. "This is what awaits all who resist!" He brandished the trophy before the barbarian troops. The horde scattered like autumn leaves in a whirlwind, fleeing to take refuge in Dong Tu Nu and A Hui Nan's camps.

Wei Yan, Zhao Yun, and the rest of Shu’s central army were fiercely attacking there at that time. The Nanman forces, seeing Shu troops both before and behind them, grew utterly disoriented; some leaped into ravines and dashed their heads, others climbed trees only to burn to death, while still others were cut down or surrendered—their numbers were beyond counting.

Dawn broke.

Above the strange peaks and grotesque mountains of the barbarian lands, the remnant embers of battle still smoldered. Kongming cheerfully ate his morning provisions, then inquired of his generals about their military achievements from the previous night. "The Three Cave barbarians have been routed, with not a single trace remaining this morning. Truly this demonstrates your great valor—but have you captured their commander?" "The head this one took is believed to belong to Jin Huanjie, one of their generals. I beg you examine it." "Ah, Zhao Yun. Your deeds remain ever commendable. And what of the other commanders?"

“Unfortunately, it appears they have all fled.” “Ah, but I have them captured alive here.” With that, he turned toward the tent behind him and commanded, “Bring them forth.” The crowd could not believe it, but soon several warriors pushed through the tent flaps and appeared, gripping the ropes that bound A Hui Nan and Dong Tu Nu.

“Barbarians. Stay down,” they forced them down. “Ah! How?!” “How did this happen?!” None remained unshocked, but through Kongming’s explanation, the details at last became clear. Kongming had long been studying the local terrain in detail with Lü Kai, whom he kept within his command tent. Moreover, three days before the central army’s wings began advancing through conventional tactics, he had already assigned Zhang Ni and Zhang Yi a covert infiltration unit, sending them far behind the enemy fortress to lie in ambush along the roads.

“The subtlety of military strategy—even spirits and demons would struggle to fathom it—is precisely this!” “Now then—these absurdly ignorant barbarian generals. Shall we line them up and behead them at once?”

When the generals praised him and spoke, Kongming restrained their decision and instead ordered that their bonds be removed. Then,

“Give them wine,” he ordered, presenting them with food and drink to console them, then continued— “This is a battle robe of Shu brocade from our Chengdu.” “It should suit you well.” “Wear this mantle of grace and never forget the virtue of royal benevolence.”

Having admonished them thus, when night fell, he quietly had the two expelled via a small path. Dong Tu Nu and A Hui Nan,

"We will never forget your kindness," they said through streaming tears as they departed. After that, Kongming announced to everyone: "Behold—tomorrow, King Meng Huo himself will surely come to attack us here. Gird yourselves and capture him alive!" At that time, Kongming had thus devised his strategies. Where were they heading? Zhao Yun and Wei Yan each commanded five thousand cavalry, while Wang Ping, Guan Suo, and others led their own contingents of troops. At dawn the next morning, they departed from the main camp.

Meng Huo

1

In the Nanman Kingdom, "cave" signified a fortress, and "Cave Marshal" referred to its chieftain.

Now, when King Meng Huo heard that all his Three Cave generals had been captured alive by Kongming and that the majority of his army had been destroyed, his countenance abruptly changed. “Good—I’ll take vengeance.” This Meng Huo’s power and status appeared to be the greatest among all the nations of the southern barbarian realms. The personal army he commanded consisted of what were called the black warriors of barbarian society—men who brandished bows, horses, swords, and spears; wore grotesque armor; and flew crimson banners and scarlet flags—equipment that was in no way inferior to that of the Chinese armies.

This force now quite unexpectedly encountered Shu’s Wang Ping’s vanguard under the blazing sun. Wang Ping rode out on his horse,

"Barbarian King Meng Huo! Are you present?"

he shouted. The one who came charging forth like a lion in response to the call appeared to be none other than Meng Huo. The original text describes his attire at that time as follows: Meng Huo sat astride his curly-maned Red Hare steed beneath the banners, wearing a feathered crown studded with gemstones upon his head. His body was clad in a red brocade robe adorned with jeweled necklaces, his waist girded with a lion-patterned belt of polished jade, and his feet shod in hawk-beak boots dyed deep green. Proudly surveying his surroundings, he grasped his pine-patterned sword inlaid with jewels and declared: "The Chinese may all tremble at the name of Kongming, but in Meng Huo's eyes, he's not even equal to a single elephant or a female leopard. Let alone those beneath him—wild foxes and city rats! Hey, Mang Ya Chang! Crush him!"

He turned and motioned with his chin to one of his subordinate generals. Mang Ya Chang roared with a guttural "Ough!" and struck the rump of the beast he was astride sharply with a leather whip. It was not a horse but a water buffalo charging with its large horns raised. Mang Ya Chang clashed with Wang Ping through five or six exchanges, but such combat bore no resemblance to ordinary swordsmanship. Mang Ya Chang was swiftly driven off. When Meng Huo saw his subordinates' blood, he revealed his inherent barbaric nature and, with a roar, leapt at Wang Ping. Wang Ping feigned a retreat and fled.

“Look at your plight, you cur of an old shrine guardian! Turn back!” Meng Huo roared—referring to the wooden war god statue—as he gave chase astride his curly-maned red horse, kicking up a whirlwind in his wake. Guan Suo’s forces judged the moment ripe. They suddenly severed Meng Huo’s rear guard and threatened his back. In that same instant, Zhang Yi struck from the right and Zhang Ni from the left, enveloping the barbarian army. The disparity between an ignorant horde and an army versed in military strategy manifested with brutal clarity. The fragmented barbarian ranks descended into chaos like a hornet’s nest struck by stones, their fleeing masses lacking even a unified direction.

Meng Huo panicked as though he had carelessly thrust his hand into boiling water. Suddenly breaking through one section of the encirclement, he fled toward Jin Dai Mountain. But when he reached the valley there, the thunderous clamor of drums and gongs resounded from within the gorge. Changing course to ascend a peak, from behind rocks and trees emerged Shu’s brave soldiers, fiercely beating war drums as they attacked. In their midst was Shu general Zhao Yun. Meng Huo, his courage shattered, leapt across mountain streams and dashed through marshes, fleeing about like a magnificent beast aware of its impending doom—but already, the four mountains had transformed into an iron barrel of Shu soldiers, leaving him no path to escape.

With evident frustration, groaning to himself, he abandoned his horse and approached the mountain stream. And as he bent down to drink the water, war cries and the clamor of drums and gongs once again echoed and resounded from all directions.

“……?” His terrified-resolute expression was truly fearsome to behold. He abandoned his horse there and, clinging to tree roots and rocky outcrops, began traversing the trackless terrain. When he emerged onto the ridge and paused to catch his breath, Zhao Yun effortlessly captured him. Ordinary rope bindings snapped one after another as he thrashed and roared, becoming nearly unmanageable. They bound him tightly with leather straps while burly warriors formed multiple concentric ranks around him, dragging him toward Kongming’s main camp—yet even during this forced entry, his violent struggles kicked three soldiers to death.

However, when they dragged him into the heart of the camp, the Imperial Guard’s flags stood in perfect formation, halberds and spears—cold as ice and snow—glistened formidably in the bonfire’s glow, and an aura of overwhelming authority filled the air. Even the Barbarian King could not help but cower, his bloodshot eyes darting restlessly about.

2 At the rear of the camp, a large number of previously captured barbarian soldiers were gathered in a pitch-black mass. Kongming now came out to them and delivered an admonition. “Though you may be called barbarians, you are not mere insects or beasts.” “You have parents; you have wives and children.” “If they were to hear you had been captured, your families would weep tears of blood—why then do you throw your lives away so pointlessly?” “Do not cast aside your precious lives by aiding a villain like Meng Huo again!”

Of course, Kongming intended to release every last one of them. Not only that—he made them drink wine, gave them provisions, administered medical treatment to the wounded, and drove them away. Though they were ignorant barbarians, they all felt gratitude for this kindness. Indeed, they were more sincerely moved than even Chinese soldiers would have been, glancing back again and again as they departed.

When he returned to a chamber within the camp, warriors were hauling Meng Huo in at that very moment. Upon seeing Kongming’s figure, Meng Huo bared his fangs and snarled as if ready to pounce. “What troubles you, Meng Huo?” “Meng Huo?” Kongming inquired with gentle mockery, his demeanor composed yet tinged with derision.

Kongming interrogated him gently and kindly, with a touch of mockery in his tone. “The Late Emperor of Shu often praised you as ‘the Barbarian King’ and looked upon you with extraordinary favor—yet you forgot such kindness, colluded with Wei, and when Wei held its breath, you again started this reckless rebellion! What do you think you’re doing?”

Meng Huo sneered. He mumbled to himself, chewing on something as foam formed at the corners of his mouth; then, arching his chest like a gorilla scratching its belly, he glared fiercely at Kongming and— “What nonsense! You’re spouting nonsense! Originally, the land of Liangchuan belonged to former Shu—it doesn’t belong to the current Shu. The same goes for the south of Yizhou. This is mine! It was neither Xuande’s domain nor Liu Shan’s land. So whatever I do is my own business, isn’t it? Even if you prattle on about invading borders or rebelling—words that hold no weight with me—to this Meng Huo, it’s all utterly absurd! Bwahaha!”

“I’m afraid, Meng Huo, I cannot bring myself to seriously debate theories with you. —And so I resorted to force. No matter how you gnash your teeth, you are already one captured by Kongming. A prisoner has no authority to speak.” “Why were you captured alive by our army?” “Because Jin Dai Mountain’s narrow roads prevented me from unleashing my full strength!” “I see. So you failed to secure favorable terrain?” “Though carelessly captured alive, even if you bind my body, you’ll never shackle my heart!”

“You do have a way with words at times.” “There is no alternative for one who does not submit from the heart.” “I will have your bonds untied and set you free.”

When he said that, one might have expected them to be moved by emotion, their expressions softening as they suddenly clung to life—but observing Meng Huo’s reaction, it proved entirely the opposite.

“Very well! If you untie these ropes and let me go, I’ll surely rebuild my forces and settle this contest between us once more! If we fight fair and square, Meng Huo isn’t one to lose to the likes of you!” “Amusing. Come again and fight without fail. Kongming too will battle until you submit from the heart.” He instructed the warriors to release Meng Huo. When the generals in camp learned this, they grew agitated. Some lamented—“After all that effort to capture him”—while others fretted—“Is this wise?” Though these varied emotions swirled about him, Kongming paid them no mind whatsoever and instead called for wine.

“Drink before you return,” he urged Meng Huo. At first, he wore an extremely suspicious expression, but since Kongming also drank from the same wine jug and spoke to him without ulterior motives, Meng Huo ultimately gulped down the wine from a large cup. As soon as he was sent out from behind the camp gate, like a ferocious tiger escaping a trap rushing back to its den, he vanished somewhere without even looking back. Clenching fists, the generals who had been seeing him off spoke in unison, “We don’t understand. We cannot fathom the Prime Minister’s intentions at all.”

They exchanged words, half in dissatisfaction and half in mockery.

Kongming laughed. "What of it? Capturing someone like him alive is no different from taking something from a bag."

Revitalization

1

“The Great King has returned!” “The Great King is alive!” As they spread the news to one another, the defeated barbarian generals and soldiers who had been hiding in various places immediately swarmed around him. In unison, “How did you return safely from Shu’s camp?” they inquired with puzzled expressions. “It was nothing.” Meng Huo laughed casually as he addressed his subordinates.

“Through ill fortune, I reached an impasse in treacherous terrain and was briefly captured alive by the Shu army. But when night fell, I broke free from the cage, slaughtered over ten guards, and fled. Then another military unit came to block my path—but those measly Shu soldiers? I kicked them aside in all directions, seized a horse, and made my return!” “Hahaha! Thanks to that, I got a good look inside their camp—but honestly, they’re nothing special.” Of course, his Nanman soldiers believed every word. However, A Hui Nan and Dong Tu Nu—who had earlier been released by Kongming and retreated to their own caverns—were the only ones who, when summoned by Meng Huo,

“It can’t be helped…” With expressions that seemed to say as much, they reluctantly came.

Meng Huo circulated a new notice to the various cave-dwelling barbarian generals and swiftly added over one hundred thousand fresh troops. The vastness of the barbarian realm and his might within that realm were unfathomable. The assembled generals from various caves—their customs and attire, weapons and horse gear—each were wildly diverse, reaching the pinnacle of bizarre resplendence. Meng Huo stood among them and outlined their future strategy. “To fight Kongming, the only way is not to fight him at all.” “That guy’s a sorcerer!” “If we fight, we’ll surely fall for that sorcerer’s tricks.” So I thought. Shu’s army had crossed hundreds of miles and appeared quite exhausted from the unfamiliar heat and rugged terrain. We would now move to the opposite bank of the Lu River and, facing that great river, build an extremely sturdy defensive stronghold. Along sheer mountains and cliffs—constructing a long wall and connecting it with watchtowers—no matter how capable Kongming was, he wouldn’t be able to do anything. And once they were completely worn out, slaughtering them all would be no trouble at all.

In a single night, the barbarian army withdrew like the wind to some unknown location. The various generals of the Shu army "Huh?" they wondered suspiciously, or whispered among themselves that perhaps the enemy had submitted to Kongming's great benevolence and abandoned the battlefield to return to their caves—but Kongming,

“Press onward—that is all,” he commanded, ordering an immediate advance that same day. The march through the barbarian lands, because of its endlessness, once again wearied the people. The hardship of the supply train was beyond description.

By the end of the fifth month, the vanguard caught sight of the Lu River’s currents ahead. The river was wide, its currents swift, and with each heavy rain, white-crested waves swelled to the heavens. Speaking of heavy rain—in this region, several times a day, torrential downpours that seemed to upend basins would strike. When they gasped under the blistering heat, it provided a moment’s respite for men and horses—yet at the same time, armor became soaked beneath, provisions were drenched in water, paths were lost, and they often found themselves stranded in swelling floodwaters.

“Huh? “…There are enemies on the opposite bank.”

“What a formidable sight! Those winding defensive strongholds—” The vanguard soldiers were daunted—this occurring the instant they saw the rugged cliffs of the opposite bank and the barbarians’ signature defensive stronghold crafted by harnessing the natural terrain. Though vastly different in style from the methodical constructions of central China, its sturdiness seemed almost excessive in its robustness. Naturally, the expeditionary force’s advance came to an abrupt halt before the Lu River.

Day after day of torrential rains, scorching heat that lasted from dawn till dusk, and nights plagued by venomous insects, poisonous snakes, and wild beasts—all while enduring these hardships, they had now approached over half a month encamped there.

Kongming issued an order. “Withdraw approximately fifty kilometers from the banks of the Lu River.” “Each unit shall select elevated areas or places within the woods—locations conducive to rest and cool in climate—and set up camp there.” “Do not rush impatiently into battle.” “Rest your men and horses for a time, avoid falling ill, and focus on maintaining your health and strength.”

II At times like these, Lü Kai, the military advisor, proved immensely useful. Based on the "Southern Atlas" that had previously been presented to Kongming, he analyzed the geography and selected encampment sites for each unit. The generals constructed huts at their respective positions—thatching roofs with palm leaves, laying plantain leaves as bedding—and endured the scorching heat each day.

One day, Supervisor Jiang Wan said to Kongming: “This encampment—relying on mountains and forests while winding over a dozen *li*—bears striking resemblance to the formation His Late Majesty used when defeated by Wu’s Lu Xun. Should the enemy cross the Lu River to launch fire attacks, we could never withstand them.”

"Indeed, indeed," replied Kongming without denial, merely laughing—"I don't necessarily think this dispersed formation is ideal—but neither does it mean we're without any strategy at all. Just watch how things unfold."

At that moment, from Shu’s capital, many medicinal materials and provisions for the wounded and sick soldiers were transported.

When he asked who had accompanied the commander,

When informed that "Ma Dai and his three thousand men have arrived to take charge of their duties," Kongming immediately summoned him, commended him for the hardship of his long journey, and said: "I wish to deploy the fresh troops you brought to the front lines—but will you take command of them?"

“None of the soldiers under my command are my own,” Ma Dai declared. “Since all these belong to the imperial court’s military forces, if I may repay the Late Emperor’s benevolence, I would gladly march even into death’s domain.” “Approximately one hundred fifty li from here along the Lu River’s banks lies a place called Liusha Kou,” Kongming explained. “Only at that crossing point does the current grow gentle enough for passage. When you reach the opposite shore, you’ll find a mountain path—the sole supply route sustaining the barbarian army’s provisions. Should you sever this lifeline, A Hui Nan and Dong Tu Nu’s faction will inevitably rise in rebellion. This is the mission I entrust to you.”

“I will surely accomplish it!”

Gladly, Ma Dai headed downstream.

When they arrived at Liusha Kou and surveyed it, they found—unexpectedly—that the riverbed was shallow enough to ford without needing boats or rafts. However, when they had gone halfway across the river, both horses and men were suddenly swept away. Startled, Ma Dai hastily withdrew his troops. When he inquired with the locals, they told him this was called the Poison River—for during scorching daylight hours, poison floated upon the water’s surface—and drinking it would surely prove fatal. However, they said that if one crossed during midnight’s coolness, there would be absolutely no risk of poisoning.

While waiting for midnight, they cut down trees, wove bamboo, and built countless rafts. Approximately two thousand cavalry managed to cross without mishap. The opposite bank was a mountainous area that grew increasingly rugged as they advanced. When they inquired with the locals, they learned this place was called the "Sheep’s Intestine of the Clasped Mountains"—a narrow, winding path. Ma Dai’s army set up camp between the valleys of the great mountains and captured over a hundred carts and four hundred water buffaloes from barbarian transport units passing through there that very day. There were spoils again the next day. Immediately, this disrupted the food supplies of the over one hundred thousand barbarian troops gathered in the rugged terrain.

One of the barbarian generals guarding the supply route went to Meng Huo's main camp to report the emergency.

“General Ma Dai of the Northern Pacification has crossed Liusha Kou with fresh troops.” Meng Huo had been drinking wine when he heard this report. He laughed dismissively—

“More than half must’ve died mid-river—those fools.” “Actually, it seems they crossed during the night.” “Who revealed such secrets to the enemy? If it’s the locals, execute them at once!” “It’s already too late. The enemy has camped in the valley of Clasped Mountains, attacking our supply convoys and seizing all our daily provisions.”

“What?! They’ve cut off the supply route?!” “What’s the point of you standing guard there?” "You blockhead!—Call Mang Ya Chang! Get Mang Ya Chang here!" This man was a peerlessly mighty warrior among the barbarian generals, wielding a bizarre spear. Upon being summoned, he grasped his long spear and— “Great King, what is it?” he said, thrusting out his mask-like face. “Take about three thousand men and bring me Ma Dai’s head from Clasped Mountains.” “I’m off.” Mang Ya Chang gallantly led his army at the forefront as they marched forth, but before long, only his subordinates returned in disarray, fleeing back in broken ranks. And they all reported in unison, saying—

“Mang Ya Chang crossed blades with Ma Dai of the enemy and was cut down with a single stroke.” “We simply cannot comprehend how that commander could have been slain so easily.”

Heartbound

Chapter One

“—That can’t be...”

Meng Huo doubted this, but when night fell, the locals retrieved Mang Ya Chang’s head and delivered it. He hurled away the cup which he had never parted with day or night. “Hey! Someone go and avenge this! Is there no one who will take Mang Ya Chang’s place and bring back Ma Dai’s head?” “I will go—this unworthy one.” “Dong Tu Nu?” “Very well.” “Go and wipe away that previous disgrace!” He encouraged him and further added two thousand fierce soldiers, sending them toward Clasped Mountains with a force of five thousand.

Meanwhile, to A Hui Nan, “If Zhuge Liang’s main army crosses the river, it would spell disaster. You—guard the entire river area.”

And separately entrusted him with a large army. Meng Huo, who had maintained a defensive stance without engaging in battle until the Shu army grew weary, could no longer remain passive when the vital point of his supply route was struck. When Ma Dai at Clasped Mountains heard that Dong Tu Nu was bringing fresh troops to recapture the position, he personally went before the barbarian forces and—

“Dong Tu Nu! Dong Tu Nu! Though you are barbarians ignorant of imperial virtue, surely you are not mere beasts! If you have ears, listen! Were you not captured by our Prime Minister and spared when you deserved death? Even savages of these lands know gratitude—can their general remain ignorant? Or if you still crave battle, come forth! I’ll return you headless like Mang Ya Chang!”

Ma Dai admonished him in a loud voice. Dong Tu Nu, who had already lost his will to fight ever since Zhuge Liang released him, was greatly ashamed upon hearing this, rolled up his banners, and fled back.

“What happened?” Meng Huo glared and interrogated him. When Dong Tu Nu explained that Ma Dai was a hero surpassing all they had heard of and that they could not possibly stand against him, Meng Huo’s blue-faced and red-haired visage took on an expression as though blood would spurt from every hair root and pore. “You traitor! You’ve been shown favor by Kongming—don’t you dare harbor disloyalty!” “Very well.” “I’ll make an example of you!” He drew his barbarian sword and immediately attempted to behead him. The surrounding barbarian generals from various caves were all clamoring noisily, restraining Meng Huo, and earnestly pleading for mercy on Dong Tu Nu’s behalf. However,

“Detestable though you are, I’ll spare your life.” “Cave generals—the punishment of a hundred lashes will not be forgiven.” He ordered his soldiers to strip Dong Tu Nu naked in front of the crowd and administer a hundred lashes with a club to his back. Having been covered in blood from head to toe and having lost face, Dong Tu Nu returned to his own camp, but he seemed unable to bear his resentment. Finally, he gathered his trusted subordinates and explained the details, “We were born in the barbarian lands, but never once have the Chinese armies invaded us without reason.” “It’s all because that Meng Huo, with his half-baked cleverness, colluded with Wei, relied on his own strength and acted tough, provoking trouble at Shu’s border of his own accord—that things have come to this!” “In my view, Kongming is truly an admirable person.” “Moreover, he does not boast of his own wisdom or strength, properly respects the Emperor of Shu, and in bestowing benevolent rule as a king, he is not one who merely pays lip service.”

Having laid bare his innermost thoughts, "I say we kill Meng Huo, surrender to Kongming, and beg him to bring equal happiness to all people of these southern lands... What say you?" He pressed them to declare their true intentions.

The majority of his subordinates were men who had once been spared by Kongming, “Chief.” “That’s exactly what we were thinking about.”

All agreed in unison and immediately resolved to carry it out. Meng Huo was just taking a nap in his main camp’s tent. At that moment, over a hundred of Dong Tu Nu’s subordinates entered and suddenly kicked the pillow away, “Wake up.” No sooner had they spoken than they bound him hand and foot; even Meng Huo could only let out a guttural roar and was powerless to resist.

II

“Wh—what?!” “What’s this?”

“What has happened?” It was a commotion like poking a hornet’s nest. The other barbarian generals and native sentries stood utterly dumbstruck by the sudden turn of events. “To the Lu River!” “To the Lu River! To the Lu River!” Dong Tu Nu seized the opportunity to lead his hundred-strong subordinates at the vanguard. Having Meng Huo carried off, they successfully broke out from the barbarian forces’ central camp. When they reached the Lu River’s bank, they first hurled Meng Huo into one of the pre-positioned hollowed-out boats. Then they all boarded several vessels and fled across to the opposite shore.

The Shu sentries immediately reported the disturbance to Kongming’s central camp. Kongming, as if he had been waiting, “So you’ve come,” he said. And from the camp gates to the interior, he had soldiers arrayed in formation, then summoned Dong Tu Nu and his men to where spears and banners stood imposingly. Kongming first obtained a detailed account from Dong Tu Nu, lavishly praised his merits, and had the entire group of subordinates receive ample rewards.

“Return to your cave for now,” he ordered them to withdraw.

Next, “Bring Meng Huo here,” he ordered. When he saw the man being brought forth with his hands bound behind his back, he gave a faint smile.

“King of the Southern Barbarians,” he called out. “Back again?”

he called out. Meng Huo’s eyes blazed with fury, bloodshot,

“Though I came here, I wasn’t captured alive by your hand! Don’t put on such airs!” he roared with his whole body, as though meaning to counterattack.

Zhuge Liang, without resisting,

“I see, I see,” said Kongming. “However, no matter whose hand captured you—if a commander-in-chief finds himself bound and delivered to the enemy’s camp, your authority crumbles and your commands lose all force. Would it not be wiser to surrender honorably now?” “Eat shit!” Meng Huo spat violently, shaking his head like an enraged lion. “Today’s mishap was merely my own carelessness in letting my own dogs bite me! This brings me no shame—my tactics remain sound! Even if my men swear vengeance, they would never abandon this Meng Huo!”

“Indeed, you have good subordinates. However, what will you do if the subordinates of the various caves all end up like Dong Tu Nu and A Hui Nan one after another?” “I’ll fight even if I have to do it alone!” “Hahaha! What are you saying, Meng Huo? And yet you have already become a captive before my very eyes and are now unable to move even a finger—are you not?”

“……” “If I, Kongming, were to give the word to behead you now, your head would part from your body in an instant.—The Shu army follows the kingly way.” “Why would we slaughter those who submit sincerely?” “You—proclaiming yourself king of these barbarian lands—know something of Chinese civilization. You read our script and grasp military tactics unlike any savage I’ve seen.—Killing you would be wasteful.” Zhuge Liang pitied him. “I pity you from the depths of my heart.”

“Prime Minister, won’t you release me once more?” “If I release you, what would you do?” “I’ll return to my stronghold, send out rallying decrees, gather fierce warriors from every cave, refine proper battle tactics, and face Shu’s army in open combat again.”

“Hmm.” “And then…?” “I’ll definitely win.” “But if by some mistake I lose again to the Shu army, I’ll lead all the cave tribes and surrender honorably.”

Kongming laughed. Then he ordered his soldiers to immediately untie Meng Huo’s bonds, “Next time,” he said, “fight to your heart’s content.” “But take care not to let that wretched form of yours appear before me again.” He had them make Meng Huo drink wine, give him a horse, escort him to the bank of the Lu River, and set him free.

Meng Huo looked back about twice from the boat, but as soon as he reached the opposite bank, he ran up to the mountain stronghold like a leopard.

Kongming: The Three Captures and Three Releases

I When Meng Huo returned to his mountain stronghold, he summoned the barbarian generals from various caves and,

“I met with Kongming again today,” Meng Huo addressed his gathered generals. “Even bound and dragged there, he couldn’t kill me! Know why? I’m invincible! Snapping their blades with my teeth and kicking down their camps to return? Easier than breakfast!” As always, he spewed fiery boasts that left the ignorant chieftains awestruck. “But without me, none of you worms would’ve crawled back alive today! Those fat traitors Dong Tu Nu and A Hui Nan—split up and bring me their heads!” he roared.

The following night. The barbarian generals who had left the stronghold gate split into several groups and lay in ambush. During the day, they had used a false envoy of Kongming to summon Dong Tu Nu and A Hui Nan. The two, having fallen for the ruse, departed from their cave and began heading toward the path along the Lu River across the mountains. The moment the signal horn sounded, barbarians hidden in all directions killed Dong Tu Nu, surrounded A Hui Nan, took their two heads, kicked the corpses into the valley, and with a howl returned to their main camp like wolves.

“You really made me drink that scalding broth, didn’t you? Look at your wretched state now!”

Meng Huo cursed at the heads. And he continued his drinking feast to vent his frustrations throughout the entire night.

After sleeping briefly and waking up, "My arms ache for battle! "Now begins our hour! "You must trample the Shu army underfoot, feast on Kongming's flesh and suck his blood dry! "All who deem themselves no lesser than Meng Huo—follow me!" With this declaration, he suddenly shook bronze bells, had iron flutes blown, and pounded war drums to signal their advance. At this proclamation, every barbarian general in the stronghold grew bloodthirsty, "Charge!"

With that, each leading a unit, they charged after Meng Huo.

Meng Huo headed toward Jia Mountain. He had come intending first to annihilate the enemy Ma Dai who was stationed there, but contrary to his plans, not a single Shu soldier was visible. “Where did they move to?” he asked the locals, and they replied that they had suddenly crossed the river and retreated to the northern bank the night before last.

“Damn. This is a step too late.” Feeling deflated, Meng Huo turned back to his main camp. Upon returning, he found his younger brother Meng You—who had heard of his elder brother’s struggles—had arrived from distant Yinkeng Mountain in the south with twenty thousand fresh troops to reinforce him during his absence. Even among barbarians, brotherly affection appeared to exist. In fact, their bond was more openly demonstrative than among the Chinese. “You came! You truly came!” they cried as they embraced and pressed cheeks. They drank together until midnight, during which they seemed to have devised a thorough plan. The next day, Meng You had a hundred of his men adorn themselves with bird feathers and Nanman-dyed garments before crossing the Lu River into enemy territory.

As they disembarked from the boat, each soldier's feet were bare yet adorned with beast-bone anklets, their half-exposed bodies revealing skin like red copper, wrists bearing bracelets of fish eyes and shells, and red-haired, blue-eyed heads decorated with white peacock and bird-of-paradise feathers—an eerie beauty so striking it made one doubt one's eyes. Moreover, the hundred-odd barbarian soldiers—each holding gold, silver, jewels, musk, fabrics, and other treasures more than they could carry—walked quietly toward Kongming's camp under Meng You's command.

Before long, as the procession approached the camp gate, shrill drums and horns immediately resounded from the watchtower, and in response to the drums, a troop of cavalry intercepted their path.

“Halt! Where do you think you’re going?” When they looked at the man on horseback, it was none other than Ma Dai of Shu—the same Ma Dai who had caused Meng Huo to stomp the ground in frustration the day before when he found no trace of him. Meng You prostrated himself to the ground and said with feigned trembling: “I have come to formally offer surrender on behalf of my elder brother.” “I am Meng You, his younger brother.” “Stand down!”

Ma Dai reported the matter inside the camp gate. At that moment, Kongming was discussing something with his generals, but upon hearing this report, he turned to Ma Su, who was by his side, and— “…Do you understand?” he asked with a smile.

II

Ma Su nodded and said, “Yes,” but, mindful of those around him, he added, “I cannot say it aloud.”

He then took up brush and paper, wrote something down, and quietly showed it to Kongming. Kongming read it once, smiled, and slapped his knee, “Indeed. “What you have in mind aligns perfectly with Kongming’s intentions. “The plan to capture Meng Huo thrice—that is the one strategy.” Next, he summoned Zhao Yun close by, instructed him on a certain strategy, and then gave directives on their course of action one by one to Wei Yan, Wang Ping, Ma Zhong, Guan Suo, and others, “Now, make haste!”

With that, he immediately dispatched them to their respective positions. After doing so, he summoned Meng You and questioned why he had suddenly come to surrender, deliberately feigning suspicion.

Meng You prostrated himself on the ground, “My elder brother Meng Huo is said to be the foremost stubborn man in the southern lands. Though he had been captured twice and spared his life through Your Excellency’s mercy, he still sought to rebel and urged us to send troops. But our clan at home and the elders of all the caves vehemently opposed him, earnestly advising him to abandon his obstinacy and submit forever to the Emperor of Shu. In the end, even my brother realized he could never withstand Your Excellency’s martial might and benevolence. Feeling ashamed to come himself, he sent me in his stead to humbly beg Your Excellency to accept his surrender.”

Meng You was a man of rare eloquence in the barbarian lands. He delivered his plea with eyes barely withholding tears and had the over a hundred barbarian soldiers he brought pile tributes into a mountain before him.

And furthermore, he said: “My elder brother Meng Huo also intends to return once to his palace at Yinkeng Mountain, load many treasures onto oxen and horses to present to the Son of Heaven, and then come here to surrender after some days have passed.” Only after hearing the full account did Kongming finally show him kindness. He wholeheartedly welcomed their submission, and as he surveyed the gifts, expressed every manner of delight and satisfaction. He then rearranged the seating, opened a banquet, and entertained them with Chengdu’s fine wines, Sichuan’s delicacies, and dishes from the lowlands.

It was from noon. When evening fell, musicians played music and Shu soldiers danced to liven the festivities. Though the southern night deepened at last, the wind was warm, the stars all large, making one forget that joy could ever end.

That night.

In fact, even at that very moment—having crossed the upper reaches of the Lu River, passed through mountain valleys and forests, and using the lights of the Shu encampment as their guide—the shadows of over ten thousand fierce barbarian troops were stealthily approaching the rear of the Shu encampment with a rustling sound, like cunning beasts. They carried in their hands only dangerous items such as sulfur, saltpeter, animal oil, and dried firewood. “The time is ripe!” Meng Huo leapt up, “That is Kongming’s central camp. Do not let him escape tonight!”

and waved his hand as a signal.

The shadows of the savage beast troops charged headlong. Meng Huo also leaped in. But lo! Though the lamplight there shone as bright as day, the people were all lying drunk, and not a single soul rose to turn around. Moreover, the people lying fallen were all Meng You’s subordinates. In fact, Meng You himself had collapsed in the center of the seating area; writhing in agony, he looked at his fellow barbarian soldiers and pointed to his own mouth.

“Brother!” “What happened?!”

Meng Huo tried to lift him up, but Meng You was unable to respond. He had tried to scheme but was outwitted. Needless to say, every last one of them had been poisoned by the tainted wine. “Damn it!” Unaware of this, their barbarian allies were desperately hurling saltpeter and oil jars from all directions, launching a fiery assault on the position. Meng Huo, clutching Meng You’s body, rushed out. “Wait! Wait!” “If you set fires from outside, our allies inside will burn to death!” “I am Meng Huo!” “Let me through!”

Then, from beneath the flames, Shu’s great general Wei Yan— “If you can pass, then pass!”

With that, they beat the war drums and turned their spear formation toward him. When he fled in panic toward the opposite direction, Zhao Yun’s army lay in wait and—

“Meng Huo! Your heavenly mandate has ended!” With that, they pursued him.

Eventually casting aside his younger brother's body, Meng Huo fled alone upstream along the Lu River.

Three

A single barbarian ship came into view on the shore. There were twenty to thirty barbarian soldiers aboard. Meng Huo, who had come fleeing breathlessly, “Hey! Take me aboard and cross the river now!” No sooner had he given the command than he leaped onto it with the momentum of one charging through air. Simultaneously, all those aboard the ship rose up,

As though crying “Got him!”, they split toward stern and bow before piling onto Meng Huo from front and rear with a roar.

“Ah! Don’t panic! It’s me! Meng Huo!” They bound his thrashing form with reckless force, trussing him up like a silkworm cocoon. “You shortsighted fool! We’re a detachment of Ma Dai’s army. Now come to the Prime Minister’s camp!”

With that, they carried him up onto land.

Kongming's main camp was filled with prisoners that night as well. He executed ten of the most vicious men, made the rest drink wine, disciplined some by spanking their buttocks, bestowed goods upon others, then released them all.

“What shall we do with Meng Huo?” The staff officers finally asked. Kongming slowly took a camp stool before him, “You’ve come again, Meng Huo.” he mocked. Through two experiences, Meng Huo seemed to have learned some tricks. He answered indignantly, “Tonight’s defeat was because my foolish brother greedily devoured food and drink, ruining this Meng Huo’s plan from within our own ranks. Therefore, I don’t consider this a defeat in battle,” he sneered.

“However, Meng Huo. Even if you haven’t been defeated by the sword, you have surely been outwitted by strategy. How about your sorry state in the boat?” “That was a blunder…” Meng Huo honestly admitted, “—but even humans stumble over stones in the dark,” still making excuses for his defeat. Kongming showed a hint of sternness, “I have now captured you alive three times. Now that it has come to this, I will break our agreement and have your head cut off. Meng Huo—do you have any final words?”

“Wait, wait!” he said, his demeanor a far cry from the previous two times as he panicked, clinging desperately to life. “Let me go once more.”

“They say even the Buddha’s face has its limits after three times. Even my benevolence has its bounds.” “One more chance will do.”

“What do you intend to do with this one last chance?” “I want a proper battle against you!” “And if you’re captured alive once more—” “This time I’ll accept execution without complaint!” “Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”

Kongming laughed heartily. In that instant, he drew his own sword and cut loose his bonds.

“Meng Huo—when next we meet, thoroughly study military texts and reorganize your battle formations so you leave no room for regret.—Now then, what of your brother?” “Huh? My brother?” “To forget your own flesh and blood—what manner of king are you? Do you truly believe you can rule over your people as sovereign of the barbarian realm?” “I pulled him from the flames, but we became separated along the way—I know not whether he lives or dies.” “Someone!—Bring Meng You here,” he commanded his attendants. The staff officers entered the tent and noisily surrounded a barbarian general, hauling him forward.

“You idiot! No matter how much of a drunkard you are, who’d be fool enough to drink the enemy’s poisoned wine?!”

Kongming laughed and drove a wedge between the two. “Despite being chastened by your allies’ defeat, to immediately start squabbling like brothers here—does this not already violate military doctrine?” “Now return home in harmony.” “And come attack us as united siblings!” The two bowed in gratitude and departed. They requested a boat, crossed the Lu River, and began ascending toward their mountain stronghold when—from atop the fortress—Shu general Ma Dai appeared bearing a banner and leaning on his sword like a staff,

“Meng Huo, Meng You—what do you desire? Arrows? Spears? Swords? Stone cannons?” Ma Dai barked angrily. Startled, they fled to one peak, only to find Shu banners standing like a forest there as well. With fluttering waves of flags behind him, Shu’s Zhao Yun appeared and said: “You there! Do not forget the Prime Minister’s great mercy!”

“You there! Do not forget the Prime Minister’s great mercy.” They fled again. However, in every valley they entered and every mountain range they traversed, there was not a place without Shu banners. In the end, they fled far to the southern barbarian lands.

Kingly breeze, feather fan

1

The barbarian realm spanned thousands of li, its vastness beyond knowing.

Kongming’s grand army, having left the Lu River behind, continued advancing further, but for dozens of days they saw no trace of the enemy. Meng Huo appeared deeply chastened. He had retreated deep into the heart of the barbarian lands and was meticulously planning his comeback. He issued proclamations to the chieftains of the eight regions and ninety-three districts in the barbarian realm, dispatched envoys, bestowed gold, silver, and honors, and spread this message far and wide.

“Kongming’s grand army has attacked! They proclaim their intent to conquer all of the southern realm, establish a Shu capital in this land, and exterminate us indigenous people! Though they’re rich in deceitful tactics and wield civilized weapons—and quite formidable at that—having marched thousands of li unaccustomed to our climate and terrain, most are already spent! They’re not worth fearing! If the armies of the various caves unite to crush them, even the Shu Emperor will be thoroughly chastised and never dare lay a finger on our land again!” This urgent proclamation succeeded.

Among the barbarian kings of the various caves were those who had grown weary of mellow wine and sated with ripe fruits and game meat—men whose bodies chafed under lives too uneventful. These men found fresh vigor through the beacon fires lit by Meng Huo, King of the Southern Barbarians. Rallying their forces from across the lands, they answered his call one after another until they had swiftly formed an immense army like clouds and mist. “All right—with this many assembled—”

Meng Huo was utterly delighted,

“Now then—where is Kongming encamped at present?” Meng Huo ordered a reconnaissance. “They’ve erected bamboo pontoon bridges across the Xi’er River,” reported a subordinate, “deploying forces on both southern and northern banks. On the northern shore, they’ve even built walls using the river as a moat up to…” “Hah!” Meng Huo snorted. “They’re just copying the formation I used at Lu River.” Wildness grows arrogant swiftly. Past defeats are forgotten quickly. And with fresh reinforcements from ninety-three federation districts now bolstering them, their fighting spirit overflowed.

“Well then,” “Let’s give them a good scare!” They advanced their army and surveyed the southern area of Xi’er River where Kongming had established his formation. Meng Huo sat astride a red-haired southern barbarian ox, its back draped with Burmese brocade and fitted with a padauk saddle. Clad in armor of rhinoceros hide, he held a shield in his left hand and gripped a long sword in his right—a truly majestic sight. By chance, Kongming had been riding in a four-wheeled carriage to inspect Shu troops stationed on the southern bank when “Meng Huo approaches with a large army.”

When he heard this from his subordinates,

“Behold, storm clouds! Flee quickly before you’re drenched!”

He suddenly changed course and hurried back to his headquarters. Meng Huo, having caught wind of this,

“Perfect! We can catch them!” he declared, taking a shortcut to suddenly close the distance as they gave chase. Yet by the slimmest margin, Kongming’s forces rushed inside the camp gates and sealed them tight, refusing to give battle. “The enemy’s weak!” The barbarian army pressed forward with contempt. Their confidence grew stronger still, having long heard that most Shu troops were already spent. Day after day, they stripped naked and swarmed near the gates—shaking their backsides in lewd dances, pulling down eyelids to make grotesque faces—all to provoke the Shu soldiers’ fury.

The Shu generals gnashed their teeth and pressed Kongming, “Those monkeys belittling us is beyond endurance! Why don’t we open the camp gates once and go out to scatter them?”

they pleaded, but Kongming, “Once they submit to imperial rule, even that dance of theirs will become something to cherish. Just keep your tempers in check for a while.” he still would not permit it. The monkeys’ arrogance grew ever more rampant—their antics, utterly devoid of military discipline, were nothing short of astonishing. Kongming spent a day observing from a high vantage point,

“That will do,” he said to those in the command tent.

The plan had already taken shape within him. He whispered something to Zhao Yun, Wei Yan, Wang Ping, Ma Zhong, and others, imparting secrets, and also summoned Ma Dai and Zhang Yi to him.

“Do not be remiss, every one of you.”

With those final words, he departed. He then boarded his four-wheeled carriage, led Guan Suo, suddenly crossed the bamboo pontoon bridge, and relocated to the northern bank of the Xi’er River.

II

Blowing horns, striking large gongs, and at times beating barbarian drums, the Nanman forces drew near to the camp gates nearly every day from then on. But within the Shu army ranks, all remained silent. Only the banners fluttered in the wind; there were no battle cries, nor a single arrow loosed in response.

Meng Huo warned them. “Kongming’s a man full of tricks—don’t blunder into his trap.” Yet with no sign of movement—not even cooking smoke at dawn or dusk—they finally stormed the gates one morning and charged inside en masse. They found hundreds of supply carts abandoned with provisions still loaded, weapons and harnesses strewn about, sleeping mats and meal remnants left in disarray. Scanning the vast camp grounds, they saw neither horse nor soldier.

“Huh? They’re withdrawing—when did they retreat?” When Meng You voiced his suspicion, Meng Huo sneered and—

“Judging by this state, they must have fled in great panic. To abandon such a sturdy camp and retreat overnight—Kongming must have faced some sudden upheaval in Shu’s homeland. I reckon it’s one of two possibilities: either Wu has invaded Shu, or Wei has attacked. Right—chase them down! Leave not a single rider alive!”

From atop his water buffalo, he issued commands to his allies and suddenly ordered the entire army to pursue them all the way to the southern bank of the Xi’er River. However, when they arrived there and looked at the northern bank, a fortress wall had been constructed as if it were the Great Wall. Even just the number of watchtowers numbered in the dozens, each one lined with flags and their halberds glinting, making it impossible to approach. “There’s no need to be alarmed.” “That too is Kongming’s feint.” “By leaving it like that, it seems their strategy is to retreat further and further north.” “Just watch, brother. In two or three days, they’ll leave nothing but flags behind, and not a single Shu bastard will remain there.”

Meng Huo spoke thus to Meng You and ordered his forces to cut bamboo and prepare bamboo rafts. Thousands of barbarian soldiers cut down large bamboo and assembled rafts. In the meantime, as they kept watch on the opposite bank morning and evening, the number of Shu troops indeed began to visibly dwindle. By around the fourth day, not a single soldier remained. “What do you think of my keen insight?” He boasted even to the chieftains on his left and right and attempted to cross the river, but on that day, a fierce wind raged, hurling stones about, so he decided to wait and observe the weather for a time, withdrawing his men and horses from the shore.

“The wind shows no sign of abating, and with those towering waves, there’s nothing we can do.” “Wouldn’t it be wiser to enter that empty camp the Shu army abandoned earlier and wait for dawn?” “Let’s do that.” “Brother, issue the command for the entire army to retreat.”

Having left those words, Meng Huo was the first to begin the retreat and entered the aforementioned camp to rest. As night fell, the fierce wind intensified its fury, and sand danced across the night sky. Both horses and soldiers covered their eyes and entered through the four camp gates until even the vast camp was filled with pitch-black darkness. Soon came the time when they tried to sleep. The sound of metal drums and gongs—not the howling wind—resounded from all directions. By the time the men and horses inside began stirring in alarm, all four sides had become walls of flame beneath a roof of fire.

They were trampled to death, burned to death, and hellish screams erupted.

“Damn it!” Surrounded by a handful of clansmen, Meng Huo narrowly escaped the raging flames through a single opening. However, as soon as he stepped outside, he was pursued by a voice bellowing, “Zhao Yun, Shu’s great general!”

When he tried to flee into the allied forces left at Xi’er River, those very allies had already been almost entirely scattered, and in their place stood Shu’s Ma Dai army. Terrified, he tried to turn back midway, only to find the retreat route already swarming with Shu soldiers. They fled to the mountains, hid in the valleys, and ran about all night. Moreover, wherever paths existed, without fail the Shu army’s metal drums and gongs would resound, and halberds and spears would sally forth. With only a dozen or so subordinates remaining, Meng Huo, utterly exhausted, descended to the mountainside in the west. Dawn had broken. When they looked, there was a grove of coconut trees in the distance. A troop of soldiers bearing several banners came pushing out a single four-wheeled chariot. Meng Huo let out a cry as if tormented by a nightmare and tried to turn back.

Three Seated upon the four-wheeled chariot, Kongming wore his silk headdress and crane-feather cloak, his attire unchanged from usual, as he moved the white feather fan in his hand. But when Meng Huo, startled, attempted to flee, he laughed heartily and— “Why do you flee, Meng Huo? Haven’t you always declared whenever captured? ‘If you’re so brave, you’d never lose.’ Given that you’re showing your back now, it seems even in a fair fight, you have no confidence in defeating this Kongming.”

He raised his feather fan and called out.

At this—Meng Huo indignantly turned on his heel—

“Shut up! When have I ever shown my back?” Meng Huo turned to his allies and barked, “Hey, men of the caves! That’s Kongming over there! It’s by this man’s schemes that I’ve been humiliated three times now! Meeting that bastard here is a stroke of luck! All of you—fight alongside me with everything you’ve got! Reduce both men and chariots to dust! If we take that bastard’s head just once, we’ll hold a grand celebration across all Nanman!” With that, he roared like a beast king. The dozen or so subordinates were all top warriors from various caves, and his younger brother Meng You burned with pent-up resentment. With bellows of “Hyaa!” and “Raa!”, they charged en masse toward the four-wheeled chariot.

The Shu soldiers immediately pushed the four-wheeled chariot and fled. Though both the chasing and fleeing were swift, it was precisely as the distance between them began to close that Meng Huo, Meng You, and their entire group plummeted into a pitfall amid a cataclysmic cloud of dust that seemed to shake heaven and earth. At the sound as their signal, Wei Yan’s several hundred cavalrymen charged forth from between the trees, pulled them out one by one from the pit below, and efficiently bound them together in a linked chain. The four-wheeled chariot was already calmly heading toward Shu’s main camp. Upon returning, Kongming immediately first seized Meng You,

“What in the world is wrong with your brother? He has now been captured alive and brought here four times as of today. Even if this were an uncivilized barbarian land, any human being should know shame. You should voice your opinion.”

Having gently admonished him, he gave Meng You wine to drink, then untied his bonds and released him along with his subordinates. Next, he had Meng Huo brought before him and, facing him with an unprecedented roar, “You brute! With what face do you shamelessly come before Kongming bound in ropes again?” scolded him further, and still— “In China, those who know no gratitude are called inhuman, and those without shame are deemed shameless or worse than dogs and beasts—despised even more than birds and beasts. Yet you—you are inferior even to those beasts.” “And you call yourself the king of Nanman?” “Well, well—what a rare animal you are,” he reviled with utmost scorn.

Meng Huo, uniquely on this day, neither roared nor raged—perhaps finally feeling shame—and kept his eyes tightly shut, merely baring his white fangs while biting his lip. "I shall grant no more mercy. Today I will behead you!" Yet even as Kongming spoke, those eyes remained closed. Kongming suddenly raised his feather fan and commanded the warriors.

“Pull him to the rear of the formation and strike off this Beast King’s head!”

The warriors, in large numbers, took hold of Meng Huo’s bound ropes and urged him to stand, whereupon Meng Huo stood rigidly silent. As he began to walk, it was only then that he opened his blazing eyes and glared at Kongming’s face. Then, with considerable composure, he sat down on the execution mat. When he turned to the warriors and asked them to summon Kongming once more—and upon seeing that they showed no sign of complying—he suddenly let out a loud roar. “Kongming! Kongming! If you untie my bonds one more time, I swear I’ll erase the shame of four defeats in this fifth attempt! I don’t mind dying—but if I’m branded a shameless coward, I can’t bring myself to perish! Hey! Hey! Kongming! Fight me again!”

Kongming stood up and, "If you don't want to die, why won't you surrender?" he said. Meng Huo abruptly shook his head, eyes glistening with unshed tears yet cursing as though spewing flames.

“I won’t surrender! I’d rather die than surrender! I lost because of deception! Hey! Trickster! Fight me properly again!” “Very well. Since you insist to this extent... Warriors, untie his bonds and let him go.” Kongming chuckled briefly and hid himself in the room.

Poison Springs 1

Meng Huo returned to his own camp. But for several days, he spent his time in a daze, lost in thought. His younger brother Meng You,

“Brother, since we’re no match for Kongming, why not just surrender?”

When Meng You voiced this opinion, Meng Huo suddenly widened his eyes as if possessed. “Don’t talk nonsense! You too? Spouting this nonsense? Say that again and I’ll make you regret it!” “But Brother, you’ve been listless and sunk into gloom lately.” “The reason I’ve been captured alive four times is because I lost to their strategies. That’s why this time, I’m planning to trick Kongming with a strategy of my own—right now, I’m straining every ounce of my wisdom.” “If we’re talking about wise men in Nanman, there’s that King Duosi, you know.”

“That’s right. Why didn’t I think of King Duosi? Brother, go to King Duosi as my envoy.” Abruptly instructing Meng You on the details, he dispatched him to King Duosi of Tulong Cave. When King Duosi heard Meng Huo’s request, he did not deliberate even once; gathering his cave soldiers, he welcomed the Nanman king Meng Huo into his domain. When King Duosi heard from Meng Huo about the repeated defeats and Kongming’s strategic brilliance, he burst into laughter and,

“No need to worry, no need to worry,” King Duosi reassured him. “King Meng, you may rest assured. My cave realm is an impregnable stronghold. If we gather our forces here, not a single Shu officer or soldier—not even Kongming himself—would return alive.” He then elaborated: “The path Your Majesty took here remains open under normal circumstances. But when needed, we can seal off that narrow pass between sheer cliffs with giant logs and boulders, instantly blocking the entrance to our cave realm. As for the northwestern approach—towering rocks and dense forests teeming with venomous snakes and scorpions make it impassable even to birds. Passage there is only possible during the Wei, Shen, and You hours of the day.”

Such was his explanation. "What's the reason for that?"

When Meng Huo asked this, King Duosi explained in even greater detail: "For reasons even we don't understand, outside of the Wei, Shen, and You hours, thick miasmic mists rise while the ground rumbles with sulfur boiling up from between the rocks—so men and horses fear to approach. Because of this, all plant life there withers away, leaving a desolate wasteland like a scorched hell as far as the eye can see. But cross one mountain into the valley deep within the dense forest, and you'll find four poison springs. One is called the Mute Spring—drink from it, and within a single night, your mouth will rot and your intestines will tear apart. None survive past five days."

“Hmm.” “What about the other springs?”

“The second spring is called the Annihilation Spring. Its color is a deep blue, and its waters flow warm just like hot water.” “Moreover, if one were to soak and bathe in it—their flesh and skin would immediately rot away leading to death—and afterward looking into its depths only white bones would remain.” “The third?” “It’s called the Black Spring.” “The water appears clear and beautiful—but immerse your limbs—and they’ll all turn black with unrelenting agony.” “The fourth?”

“The fourth spring—the Soft Spring—is cold as ice. Though travelers who’ve endured the blazing heat all flock to drink from it, not a single soul who has done so has survived since ancient times.” “Then it’s impassable. Even Kongming couldn’t cross that place.” “However, during the Later Han era, they say only General Ma Yuan of Fubo ever reached here. Since then, no army of any hero has ever passed through this cave realm.” “Ah! How fortunate! If we make our stand in this cave realm, the Shu army will have no choice but to be stranded!”

Meng Huo slapped his forehead and rejoiced without restraint, "Come and try, Kongming! If you can reach here, then come!" he cursed toward the northern sky.

At that time, Kongming had already completed the pacification of the Xier River region and continued marching further and further south into the southern lands where the scorching heat seemed to sear everything.

“For several hundred li ahead, there are no barbarian forces at all—not a single soldier’s banner is visible. When we captured and interrogated the locals, they said Meng Huo and Meng You have gathered all their troops deeper into the mountainous region called Tulong Cave.” Upon the scout unit’s report, Kongming took out a map and examined it, but such a cave realm was not marked on the Zhizhang Map.

Two

“Lü Kai,” Kongming showed the map to Lü Kai at his side and inquired. “This Tulong Cave isn’t marked here either. With all your knowledge of these lands, do you truly know nothing of it?”

“A region not even on the Zhizhang Map must be an exceedingly remote barbarian land.” “This humble one knows nothing of it either.”

Then, Jiang Wan, a staff officer who had been peering at the map from behind, inadvertently sighed and admonished: “You have already sufficiently demonstrated Shu’s military might and pacified the indigenous people, extending the king’s influence across these lands. Would it not be prudent to withdraw at this juncture? If we press too far into these depths, the three armies may yet become naught but ghosts in this barbarian wilderness.”

Kongming tilted his head back lightly and said, “No doubt Meng Huo eagerly hopes for that as well.”

Jiang Wan flushed red and fell silent. Kongming first ordered Wang Ping’s unit to advance into the northwestern mountains, but when they did not return even after several days, he gave Guan Suo a thousand cavalry and had him establish contact. Guan Suo eventually returned and reported the grave situation ahead. Nearly ninety percent of Wang Ping’s soldiers had encountered the waters of the four poison springs and were suffering from illness or had died. He reported that his own unit’s men and horses, parched by the scorching heat of their march, had approached the springs without a moment to restrain themselves, immediately resulting in dozens of casualties—their agonized suffering and deaths too gruesome to witness.

Kongming was shocked. Even with his vast knowledge, no solution could be found. Finally resolved, he issued the order for the three armies to depart. His body was borne upon the four-wheeled chariot as soldiers and horses supported one another, their labored groans forming a dreadful chorus while pressing forward into this unprecedented perilous terrain. Crossing scorched mountains and riverbeds—barren of even a single tree or blade of grass—they wound through peak after peak until entering a dense forest region, where Wang Ping came to meet them and immediately guided Kongming's chariot to the edge of the four springs.

The spring glistened with moisture, holding a temptation so strong that even he wanted to immediately leap forward and kiss it. When he looked up, the four mountains stood like a folding screen; not a single bird cried out, not a single beast ran—truly, there was a sinister aura that pierced the skin. “Ah… What could that single shrine visible on the rocky peak be?” He suddenly noticed a man-made structure with colored eaves halfway up a mountain peak, so he climbed the sheer cliff on foot, clinging to vines and creepers. There was a cave hollowed out of the bedrock. They had converted it into a shrine where a stone statue of a general was enshrined. When he read the stele erected beside it, it stated that this was a stone statue of Han’s Fubo General; long ago, the general had subjugated the Nanman and reached this land, and the locals, admiring his virtue, had enshrined him here—so it was carved.

Kongming prostrated himself before the stone statue, prayed at length, then pleaded fervently as if addressing a living person: "This unworthy one received the Late Emperor's final command to protect the orphaned heir, obeyed the Later Sovereign's decree to come here, and now unexpectedly treads upon ancestral achievements while encountering your mighty spirit, General. I believe this meeting manifests heaven's will. If your spirit endures, General, aid this incompetent Kongming and grant protective strength to my three armies—the last remnant of Han—now in desperate straits." Then a suspicious-looking old man leaning on a staff seated himself on a distant rock and called out, "Chancellor, approach here."

“Who are you?”

When Kongming asked, the old man "I am a local," he answered simply—"If you proceed twenty or thirty li deeper into the valley from here, you will find a somewhat wider valley called Wan’an Valley nestled within five peaks." "There resides a hermit known as the Wan'an Recluse." "This person has not left the valley for decades. In his hermitage lies a spring called An Yang Spring—to this day, he has saved countless travelers and locals afflicted by the four poisons." "Undoubtedly, your army struggles now." "Through Your Excellency’s virtue, even we humble folk have glimpsed royal enlightenment, finding purpose in our existence today." "Well then—go to Wan’an Valley and see for yourself."

No sooner had he spoken than he drifted away like mist, never giving his name. "This must be the shrine's divine oracle." Kongming accepted this truth. The next day, he ventured with his retinue into the inner valley of the Five Peaks as instructed.

Nanman Maidens' Dance

1

Amidst a bluish darkness akin to traversing the sea, as they made their way through endless deep forests and swampy paths, sunlight resembling a rainbow suddenly spilled down from the heavens like liquid radiance. It was a valley cradled within the broad embrace of encircling mountains.

"Ah, this must be Wan'an Valley," Kongming declared as he dismounted his horse and ordered his men to search for the hermit's dwelling.

“That’s it.” “That mountain villa must be it.” Upon being guided there, tall pines and large cypresses stood densely over the house, while southern bamboo thickets, coconut trees, and crimson-and-violet exotic flowers formed a hedgerow-like boundary, their exotic fragrance swaying on the wind—leaving them standing transfixed in awe.

A dog barked loudly. The dog barked fiercely at the unfamiliar attire of Kongming’s party. Just then, from inside the mountain villa, a naked boy who looked exactly like a jet-black metal statue of a newborn Buddha came flying out, chasing and scolding the dog while— “Uncle, you’re the Chancellor of Shu, right?” “Please come this way.”

he said, leading the way. “Lad, how did you know I was the Chancellor of Han?” As he was being led along and asked this, the boy bared his white teeth in a laugh. “With such a large force attacking Nanman, how could its people not know?”

Then, an old man with blue eyes and yellow hair opened the bamboo door from within and appeared. "Now, now, what are you doing speaking so playfully to our guest?"

He scolded the boy, then courteously welcomed them into the hall and exchanged greetings. The old man wore a vermilion silk robe and bamboo hat, golden rings dangling from plump ears—his appearance resembled that of Zen master Bodhidharma.

After the formalities concluded and they settled into their seats, when Kongming stated his purpose, the hermit laughed heartily, "This old man is but a recluse of mountains and fields who had believed he could do nothing more for the people of this world—yet for the Chancellor to bend his carriage here brings joy beyond expectation, or rather, fills me with profound humility." "Please have all soldiers felled by the four poison springs brought here at once." "It’s easily done." "Though this old man’s power cannot save them, there exists a natural medicinal spring nearby."

Kongming greatly rejoiced and immediately ordered his attendants to have Wang Ping and Guan Suo transport all the sick and injured here in succession. The boy, together with the hermit, joined forces to guide the people to a spring in Wan’an Valley. When they bathed in this medicinal spring, chewed garlic chive leaves, sipped rue roots, or consumed cypress seed tea and pine flower greens, even those gravely ill regained their healthy complexions, while those mildly afflicted became instantly refreshed—cheers of joy filled the valley. The hermit again cautioned Kongming.

“In this cave region, poisonous snakes and evil scorpions abound—take great care.” “Moreover, above all else, what troubles armies on the march is water. Any stream where peach leaves have fallen and rotted for a long time will inevitably contain potent poison, so you must not even let your horses drink from it.” “Wherever you go, even if it’s troublesome, you should dig into the ground and drink only groundwater you find there—that would be safe.”

Kongming bowed in gratitude and then inquired about the hermit’s name, whereupon the hermit smiled knowingly, “Chancellor, you must not be startled,” he cautioned, and then— “What is there to hide? I am the elder brother of King Meng Huo of Nanman,” he said. “Huh? Meng Huo’s—” “Indeed. In truth, our parents had three children. I am the eldest, followed by Meng Huo, and then Meng You. Our parents died early, and my two younger brothers became consumed by material desires—they craved power and glory, delighted in violence, defiantly rejected royal authority, and persisted in unchecked lawlessness that none could restrain. No matter how much I admonished them, there was no sign of them mending their ways. So I parted with my two younger brothers, abandoned the royal city, hid in this valley over twenty years ago, and have not shown my face in society since. I am such a disgraceful person.”

“Ah, so that’s how it was.”

Kongming exclaimed in admiration, "In ancient times, there were brothers like Liu Xia Hui and Dao Zhi, but even in this present age, there exists someone of your stature." "I will petition the Emperor and have you made King of Nanman." "No, no—I must decline." "If I desired wealth and status, I wouldn’t be living in this valley." Meng Jie waved his hand. His name was Meng Jie.

Two

On the return journey, Kongming could not cease his sighs of admiration. Even in these uncivilized barbarian lands, among those who dwelled in obscurity, there existed one such as Meng Jie—he now felt with renewed depth the truth of the saying: "Where men presume men to be, there are none; where men presume none to be, there men exist."

Thus having overcome countless hardships, the three armies finally drew near to their destination of Dongjie, yet what continued to trouble them frequently was obtaining drinking water. At times they had to dig through bedrock over twenty zhang deep; at others, to secure a single water source they recruited desperate teams to draw from thousand-ren ravines. Along the way they had a thousand water buckets fashioned; when rain fell they stored it in these vessels, then carefully transported them upon oxen and horses as they advanced. Other provisions and clothing too compounded the expedition's destitution until its hardships defied description.

However, with unrelenting effort, this grand expeditionary army finally entered the land of Tulong Cave. And setting up camp on one side of the cave region, they allowed their soldiers and horses to drink good water for a time, lined up their field tents, and did not move.

While making a show of this, in reality, several units under Guan Suo, Wang Ping, Wei Yan, and others had already abandoned the front enemy territory and were advancing into adjacent regions by detour. What objective this operation held was known to none but Kongming, yet already they had achieved success in that direction, with numerous chieftains and tribes being captured alive here.

Meanwhile.

At Tulong Cave's headquarters, when they learned that Kongming's grand army had already reached their cave territory, great turmoil erupted. Initially, even King Duosi and the Meng Huo brothers,

“That’s impossible!” They wore expressions of disbelief, but upon receiving urgent reports from their subordinates, they climbed a mountain and gazed into the distance. There lay the Shu army’s barracks—fluttering banners arrayed in rows across tens of li. “How did this army get here?” “This defies all reason!” King Duosi trembled from head to toe, his face turning ashen as though he might collapse. Yet even he steeled himself: “Now that they’ve come this far—our cave realm will be trampled, my clan and children slaughtered.” “We must rally every tribe and cave soldier! Either we massacre them all or die trying—this ends here!”

Having steeled his resolve, King Duosi pledged a blood oath to live and die together with the Meng Huo brothers, then proclaimed this commitment to the tens of thousands of soldiers in the barbarian army—whereupon Meng Huo too felt greatly emboldened, “Even if they’ve struggled this far, those soldiers are spent.” “How could we lose?” “If you resolve yourself fully, Great King, victory is assured.” “This time—not one of those Shu curs will crawl back alive!”

Meng Huo boasted. And finally honing their fighting spirit, they slaughtered cattle and horses to host a grand feast for the army, “The Shu army possesses luxurious equipment and vast military provisions.” “Those fine spears, fine swords, fine halberds, fine armor, fine battle robes, fine horses, and the vast provisions and treasures loaded on their carts—all of these will be given to you.” “Slaughter every last Shu soldier, and I’ll hand out all their treasures as your reward!” “Rouse yourselves! Rouse yourselves!” he roused and inspired the soldiers’ savage spirit. Just then, good news arrived.

“The neighboring cave chieftain Yang Feng and his clan have come to join us with over thirty thousand people.”

So it was reported. King Duosi knocked his forehead and leapt for joy.

“If we are defeated here, it’s only natural that the neighboring Silver Forge Cave would be in danger—so they’ve come to aid us. This is an omen of our victory!” When they promptly welcomed him into their camp, Yang Feng arrived in grand fashion, bringing his five sons and entire household. “Ah, Great King. “The troubles of your cave are no different from those of my cave realm. “I have come to lend my humble assistance. “This may sound like a boast, but I have five sons, each trained in martial prowess. “There’s no need to worry anymore!” he declared with great vigor.

Then he proudly presented his five sons—but seeing them, each possessed frames of unparalleled barbaric might, leopard-browed and tiger-bodied men all radiating ferocity— "How grateful! The army is sure to win." "The army will prevail!" Both King Duosi and Meng Huo were overjoyed to the point of ecstasy, opening copious wine bottles, piling meat onto platters, pouring blood into cups, and cheering until nightfall.

Three Barbarian songs and music resounded, sake flowed freely, and excitement blazed. The army had all decided that they would win.

Yang Feng drank heavily and became thoroughly drunk, exchanging cups with Meng Huo and Meng You, when he suddenly noticed King Duosi. “Among the clan members I brought are many daughters of marriageable age. Why don’t we have them perform a dance as entertainment and then serve drinks afterward?” he proposed.

The Great King clapped his hands,

“How about it, brothers?” King Duosi turned toward Meng Huo and Meng You. “That’s fine with us!”

Neither had any objections. No—far from it, Meng You stood up and announced to the barbarian generals in attendance with a theatrical flourish. "We will now present the dance of these beauties—try not to faint from drooling too much!" Thunderous applause erupted—another wave of clapping. Yang Feng blew a whistle and beckoned toward the distance. He must have planned this diversionary entertainment in advance. At his signal, a line of beauties moved in synchronized steps as they entered the banquet hall.

The barbarian maidens' skin was all russet, gleaming like ebony. They let their hair flow loose, adorned with flowers, and decorated their waists with bird feathers and animal fangs. With short barbarian swords at their waists, they formed perfect circles, broke them apart, shook their hips, and leapt about in dance. Cheers, cheers—the entire hall teetered on the brink of erupting into revelry. As the barbarian maidens joined hands and drew Meng Huo and Meng You into their dancing circle to sing a tribal song—Yang Feng suddenly leapt up and hurled his cup into the air,

“Now, strike!” Yang Feng thundered. Instantly, all the barbarian maidens drew their daggers and tightened the circle of gleaming blades. Meng Huo and Meng You roared as they kicked away both the maidens and their swords, leaping outside the circle—but in that instant, Yang Feng’s five sons and clansmen swarmed over them and bound them with ropes. King Duosi tried to flee but was tripped by Yang Feng and easily captured by his subordinates. The barbarian generals—who had been dead drunk and entranced by the dancers—could only gape in astonishment. Surrounded by Yang Feng’s men before they could resist, they found themselves completely powerless.

It appeared the signal beacon had already been lit there beforehand, for resounding conch blares and war drums announced Zhuge Liang's three armies were drawing near. Upon realizing this, Tulong Cave's massive forces scrambled over one another to flee into the mountainous wilderness' darkness.

Meng Huo turned toward Yang Feng, his face a terrifying blood-filled visage as he roared at him.

“Hey, Yang Feng! “You’re a cave chieftain of the barbarian country too, aren’t you? “Do you intend to trap your own allies and hand them over to Kongming?!”

Yang Feng laughed and said, “Truth is, I was captured and dragged before Kongming too. But feeling indebted to his mercy, I took on this role to repay him. You bastard, just surrender already!” “Damn you! So you—” While Meng Huo was still raging, Kongming arrived with his staff. To their astonishment, even Yang Feng’s five sons—who had claimed to be his kin—were all Shu army soldiers; no sooner had they shed their barbarian attire than they changed into their armor and joined the ranks welcoming Kongming.

Kongming stopped before Meng Huo. "This marks the fifth time, Meng Huo. Now you must submit." As he spoke these words, he assumed a dismissive manner. "Submit? Don't mock me! When have you ever bound me yourself? These ropes were tied by traitors from my own ranks!" "A commander-in-chief need not dirty his hands subduing a mere commoner. Should you wish to touch even my finger, you must first embrace civilized rule." "You keep prattling about 'civilized rule,' but I am King of the Southern Barbarians! My capital at Silver Pit Mountain in Yunnan stands guarded by three rivers and layered fortresses passed down through generations. Defeat me there, and I might acknowledge your prowess. But this petty victory? Your commander's airs make my sides ache with laughter!"

Meng Huo’s insults and rebellious spirit remained as fierce as ever.

Heroine

1 Kongming released Meng Huo for the fifth time. Upon releasing him, "I shall grant you another battle upon terrain of your choosing and under conditions of your desire." "Yet this time, I may exterminate even your nine clans!" "Fight with full preparedness," he declared.

His younger brother Meng You and King Duosi were also released at the same time. The three men received horses and fled back as though ashamed.

Originally, Meng Huo's homeland—the barbarian capital in central Nanman—was located far to the south of Yunnan (Kunming). And the barbarian capital's place name was called Ginkodo, and it is said to have been situated in a vast fertile plain at the intersection of the Three Rivers.

When measured against modern maps, the place names from 1,700 years ago are naturally no longer preserved. However, considering the rivers of the southern continent, it appears that the upper reaches of French Indochina’s Mekong River, Thailand’s Menam River, and Burma’s Salween River all originate far in Yunnan Province, Xikang Province, and the eastern foothills of Tibet—precisely traversing the barbarian territories of Zhuge Liang’s expeditionary era. And when examining the original Records of the Three Kingdoms’ descriptions that depict the barbarian capital of that era—

This place called Silver Pit Mountain is surrounded by three rivers—the Lu River, Gannan River, and Xicheng River. To the north lies a flat and expansive plain spanning a thousand li that produces abundant resources; three hundred li to the east are salt wells; three hundred li to the south lies Liangdu Cave; and to the south stand towering mountains yielding plentiful silver. Therefore, the capital was called Ginkodo, serving as the nest of the King of Southern Barbarians; its palaces and towers all shimmered with silver reflecting green hues, the people all wore silk garments flaunting bright vermilion, rouge, deep purple, yellow, and indigo; moreover, they enjoyed chewing olive fruits, and their wine jugs were always filled with barley brew and fruit ferment. Within the palace, they erected an ancestral shrine revered as the Household Spirits, slaughtered oxen and horses in each of the four seasons to perform rituals named the Divination Spirits, and annually captured foreigners to offer as sacrificial victims. The capturing of living beings and similar practices were roughly as described above.

and such. In short, one would not be far off imagining it as lying near the present-day borders of Burma, French Indochina, and Yunnan Province. The reason Meng Huo left his barbarian capital in the central region and deliberately engaged Kongming’s expeditionary forces near the Guizhou-Guangxi border—repeatedly fighting difficult and losing battles—was ultimately because he had been compelled by circumstances to personally take command against the governors of Shu’s border regions and cave chieftains whom he himself had incited and mobilized. As Meng Huo himself had boldly declared to Kongming, it was only by fighting here at the Three Rivers’ strategic stronghold of his barbarian capital that he could fully demonstrate his true capabilities—a role that was both his duty and his deepest aspiration.

Now, Meng Huo—defeated time and again—had finally returned to the barbarian capital he had longed for.

At the barbarian palace with green sands and silver walls, thousands of cave lords and tribal chiefs from all directions had gathered, discussing the upheaval as if doomsday had arrived. It was virtually a grand council of unprecedented scale since the barbarian lands' founding, where deliberations continued day after day—when Dai Lai, the Eighth Tribal Chief and brother-in-law of Lady Meng Huo,

“There is no choice but to seek help from King Mulu, chieftain of the Bana Cave, who holds sway over the southwestern tropical lands.” “King Mulu always rides an elephant to lead his forces from the front—the moment he takes position, he uses mystical powers to summon winds and march upon enemy lines with tigers, leopards, jackals, wolves, venomous snakes, and scorpions following like his own kin.” “Moreover, he commands thirty thousand fierce warriors under him—his martial prowess now makes even neighboring India tremble.” “Though he has long opposed our barbarian capital,” Dai Lai proposed, “if we bow in courtesy bearing gifts and lay bare the catastrophe engulfing all our lands, he too—being a son of this soil—will surely rally to our cause.”

The entire assembly raised both hands in unanimous praise.

"Then you shall go as envoy," Meng Huo commanded, and under his orders, Dai Lai immediately departed for the southwestern country. It was likely a power from what we now call the Burma-India region.

As a forward base for the barbarian palace of Silver Pit Mountain, there stood Three Rivers City at the strategic confluence of the Three Rivers. Meng Huo stationed King Duosi there and appointed him as vanguard commander. 2

Shu's large army arrived at Three Rivers after days of travel. The ordeal of overcoming such a long journey must have been a battle greater than any battle.

Three Rivers City was connected to rivers on three sides and to land on one side. Zhuge Liang first ordered Wei Yan and Zhao Yun’s troops to advance to the city walls and launch probing strikes, but as expected, the city proved impregnable—even these barbarian soldiers were elite warriors. Countless crossbows lined the battlements. Each could fire ten arrows at once, their tips coated with venom so potent that a single strike meant certain death—no mere wounding. All who were hit would perish with their flesh putrefying and innards laid bare.

They launched three attacks, but on the fourth attempt, Kongming swiftly withdrew the entire camp about ten li. The clean precision of retreat and complete indifference to perceptions of flight could be considered a hallmark of Kongming’s tactics.

"The Shu soldiers retreated from their positions out of fear of the poison crossbows."

The Nanman army grew arrogant with pride. Military strategy is wisdom and a cultural artifact. The high level of a people’s civilization can also be understood from that. As seven then ten days passed, their crude arrogance "Even if you speak of Kongming, he’s nothing more than a man of limited ability," they increasingly looked down upon the enemy.

Kongming observed the weather. No matter the situation, he never forgot to keep some natural force as his ally.

Days of strong winds continued. This sand-laden fierce wind appeared likely to continue the next day as well. A proclamation was posted in various camps under Kongming’s name.

The text read: “By the first watch tomorrow evening, every soldier in each unit must prepare one piece of cloth (garment) without leaving a single man behind. Those who neglect this will be beheaded.” Though they didn’t understand why, everyone from unit commanders down to foot soldiers procured a piece of cloth due to the stringent order. “What on earth are they planning to do with this?” they wondered suspiciously as they waited. Suddenly came the marching order. Next followed rank formation. It was precisely the hour of first watch.

Kongming stood upon the command platform and issued three orders. First: Each of you shall scoop earth at your feet into the garments you carry to make sandbags. Second: Every soldier shall carry one sandbag and march in succession according to orders. Third: When you reach Three Rivers City's walls, pile and discard your sandbags there. When these sandbag mounds equal the walls' height, immediately climb over them into the city. Those who enter fastest shall receive great rewards. At this moment they all finally understood Kongming's plan. This force of over two hundred thousand - augmented by more than ten thousand surrendered barbarian troops - each carrying one sack, swiftly advanced upon Three Rivers City's walls.

What were random arrows and poison crossbows against them? A massive army surged forward like clouds or mist all at once, so they couldn’t shoot down even a thousandth of their force. In the blink of an eye, mounds of sandbags were piled up in several places. The number of sandbags equaled the number of soldiers, numbering over 200,000. No matter how high the walls were, there was no height they couldn’t reach instantly. The forces of Wei Yan, Guan Suo, Wang Ping, and others vied to be first as they leapt down between the city walls. Tossing the sandbags they carried repeatedly, they easily created a passage there.

The Nanman army, like fish in a cauldron, scurried about in disarray, knowing no means to resist. Many fled toward Silver Pit Mountain, while others opened the sluice gates and spilled out onto the river. The captives were countless. As was customary, they issued admonitions and extended benevolence to them; then, opening the city’s treasuries, they distributed all of it to the three armies.

It is rumored that King Duosi was slain amidst the chaotic army at this time. It was a pitiful end not even worth mentioning.

“What? Sanjiang has fallen? Already Kongming’s army has entered?!” At Silver Pit Mountain’s barbarian palace, Meng Huo had turned pale. Even as he gathered his clan for council, he remained in such turmoil and confusion that he could not act. Then, from behind the silk screen at the back, someone chuckled quietly.

"Who’s being so rude?" demanded the clan members as they peered in, only to find Lady Zhurong, Meng Huo’s wife, reclining on her daybed and taking a long afternoon nap. Pampered like a housecat and usually kept docile in Lady Zhurong’s chambers, the male lion also rested its chin near her waist, its eyes half-closed in drowsy slumber.

Three As they resumed their deliberations once more, Lady Zhurong chuckled softly again in the adjoining chamber. When the assembly displayed looks of irritation at the sound, Meng Huo—bound by his role as husband—could no longer hold his tongue and finally barked a rebuke from his seat.

“Wife, what are you laughing at?” Then Lady Zhurong, together with her lion, heaved herself up from the daybed. Paying no heed to the clan members, she bellowed directly at her husband Meng Huo. “What’s wrong with you? Born a man yet utterly spineless! How can you call yourself king of Nanman if you can’t even scatter a few hundred thousand Shu troops? Though I am but a woman, if I go, I will not let Kongming trample this country underfoot.” This woman had come as a bride from a family said to descend from the ancient Zhurong Clan. She rode horses with skill, excelled at mounted archery, and possessed a secret technique: when she gripped a dagger and hurled it, every shot hit its mark.

As a result, she reigned supreme in the household, and when confronted with this truth, Meng Huo wore a thoroughly deflated expression without uttering a word. The clan members themselves, having indeed suffered defeat upon defeat, could only sit in speechless dismay together.

“Lead an army.” “I will take command at the front and wipe out the Shu forces.” “How can we tolerate being intimidated by the likes of Kongming?” The next day, she rode her curly-maned beloved steed, her hair unbound and feet bare, clad in a crimson battle robe and a golden breastplate studded with pearls. Seven daggers were sheathed at her back, and in her hands, she gripped a spear over ten feet long. Like a flame, she raced through the battlefires. Shu soldiers struck by that spear were countless. Shu’s Zhang Ni, seeing this,

"Strange enemy," Zhang Ni thought as she closed in from behind. Suddenly, a dagger came flying from the sky. It struck Zhang Ni's thigh, sending him tumbling headfirst from his horse. "Bind that one!" Lady Zhurong barked at her subordinates while charging toward her next opponent. When Shu's Ma Zhong gave chase, two more daggers flew his way—one piercing his horse's face—and he too fell from his mount into Nanman hands.

That day’s battle situation saw the Nanman army surging fiercely, and Meng Huo suddenly—

“I see victory within grasp!”

he leapt up and began to rejoice. Lady Zhurong proposed beheading the two captives she had taken—Zhang Ni and Ma Zhong—to further boost morale, but her husband Meng Huo, “Well, I’ve been captured five times myself and released by Kongming. If we kill them right away, it’ll make me look petty. After capturing Kongming alive, let’s line them up and behead them.” he said. So they kept the two prisoner-generals alive and would occasionally look at them, laughing in amusement.

Kongming had been concerned about the two generals' safety. Yet he had maintained they would likely not be killed. He had devised a rescue plan and already instructed Zhao Yun and Wei Yan accordingly. The battle beneath the scorching sun continued daily. Whenever flames danced amidst the fray, Lady Zhurong's figure inevitably appeared. Zhao Yun approached and challenged her to single combat. Yet being a woman, the moment she realized she couldn't match this foe, she flung a dagger and slipped away through the opening. "It's like chasing a bird through the treetops," the valiant Zhao Yun lamented. "I simply can't catch it."

The valiant Zhao Yun lamented. The next day, Wei Yan deliberately stayed off the front lines, deploying common soldiers to taunt Lady Zhurong. Enraged, she gave chase. After luring her some distance, they deemed the moment ripe and sprang their trap. "Wait, Ostrich Lady!"

Lady Zhurong turned around, threw a dagger, and attempted to withdraw as was her custom. Zhao Yun sounded war drums from another direction, “Is that an ostrich or a female orangutan?” they jeered. With her hair bristling in rage, Lady Zhurong finally charged headlong into the Shu ranks, driven by fury. The Shu forces deliberately scattered in feigned retreat. When they halted, they renewed their barrage of taunts.

Gradually luring her into the mountains, when they had drawn her into the planned perilous terrain, they suddenly surrounded her from all sides and finally succeeded in capturing Lady Zhurong. Kongming sent an envoy to Meng Huo's camp. "Your wife is in my camp. I will exchange her for Zhang Ni and Ma Zhong."

Meng Huo was startled and immediately sent back the two generals. Kongming made Lady Zhurong drink wine and sent her back. She was slightly wilted, but after drinking a gallon of wine and having her ropes removed, she became extremely lively, left behind grandiose boasts similar to Meng Huo’s, and returned home.

Walking Wooden Beasts

One

Dai Lai, who had gone as an envoy to a neighboring kingdom, returned and reported. “King Mulu has consented to our proposal and will lead his nation’s army here within days.” “When King Mulu’s forces arrive, the Shu army will be crushed to splinters.” Both his sister Lady Zhurong and her husband Meng Huo now clung solely to this slender thread of hope. When word came that King Mulu of the Bana Cave had reached the city gates with tens of thousands of troops, the couple emerged from the palace gates to greet him.

“Oh, to have you both come out to welcome me—I’m truly honored.” King Mulu rode in on a white elephant. Around the elephant’s neck hung golden bells, and upon its back was placed a saddle adorned with seven treasures. Moreover, he wore a silver-brocade battle surplice over his body, a golden bead neck ring, golden ankle rings, had sacred jewels dangling at his waist, and carried two large swords. “You can rest assured—both Meng Huo and your wife.” After dismounting from the white elephant, King Mulu—still speaking thus—was guided leisurely through the forest of barbarian banners deep into the inner reaches of the royal palace.

Within the thirty-thousand-strong army he had brought were intermingled nearly one thousand fierce beasts. Lions, tigers, elephants, black panthers, wolves—their roaring was fearsome to an extreme degree.

Deep within the royal palace, a grand welcoming banquet appeared to have been held late into the night, with tremendous bonfires and barbarian music clamoring throughout the night.

Meng Huo and his wife continued their three-day banquet with utmost hospitality and beauty, striving to win Mulu’s favor through every possible coquetry and attached condition.

The king’s mood remained favorable, and on the fourth day since their arrival at the city,

“Well then, tomorrow I shall show you how to scatter the Shu army,” King Mulu declared as he ordered military preparations. What a fearsome night it proved—from dusk till dawn, the beasts of the beast corps roared ceaselessly at the darkened sky. They said it was customary to starve the creatures before battle, leaving their bellies parched and empty.

The next day, the Great King finally appeared at the front lines. Mounted on his customary white elephant, he laid out two treasured swords and held a bell with a calyx-shaped grip in his hand.

The Shu army was astonished. "What in blazes is that?"

Since they appeared to falter even before the battle had begun, Zhao Yun, Wei Yan, and others climbed up the watchtowers to look—and saw that indeed, it was no wonder the troops were terrified. The soldiers of Mulu's army had jet-black faces and skin, appearing exactly like lacquered demons or rakshasas. Moreover, behind the Great King, the pack of chained fierce beasts wagged their tails and roared at the clouds. "Wei Yan! Wei Yan! In all my years, I've never encountered an enemy like this before." "I wonder how this will turn out..."

“Well, this is my first time as well.” “What a bizarre army this is.” Even these veteran generals grew bewildered and fearful, finding themselves abruptly unable to devise any plans or tactics. Meanwhile, King Mulu—looming high atop his white elephant’s saddle—suddenly rang the stemmed bell in his hand. First, he drove his vanguard spearhead into the fray. Then, as the two armies clashed in chaos, he fiercely struck the bell again with redoubled force. The beast corps released their chains and opened their cages all at once. At the same time, King Mulu recited incantations under his breath and began assuming a prayer-like posture. A horde of lions, tigers, leopards, venomous snakes, and evil scorpions kicked up clouds of dust, crawled through the grass, and—as if flying through the air—assaulted the Shu ranks. Their bellies were drawn up tightly against their backs. They were all starved tigers and wolves. Baring fangs and whirling up wind, their forms hungered for blood.

Fleeing, fleeing, collapsing in flight. The Shu soldiers’ feet would not stop, no matter how much they were urged. Finally, they had retreated all the way to the Sanjiang border in a complete rout. The barbarian army pressed their advantage with terrifying ease, slaughtering the retreating Shu soldiers with ferocity surpassing even wild beasts. The eerie demonic bell clanged resoundingly once more. Around King Mulu's white elephant, the sated beast horde wagged their tails and returned triumphantly. They put them back into cages or chained them up, sounded the drums and horns, and withdrew to the royal palace.

Hearing about the day’s defeat from the two generals Zhao Yun and Wei Yan, Kongming laughed.

"The texts indeed do not lie," Kongming said. "In my youth, when I read military treatises in my thatched cottage, I learned that the Nanman Kingdom employed battle formations using jackals, wolves, tigers, and leopards. What we faced today must have been exactly that." "Fortunately, I prepared countermeasures for such eventualities when we departed Shu. There is no need for alarm." He immediately ordered a unit of soldiers to bring forth the reserved vehicles.

II

There were over twenty vehicles—each one covered with cloths—that had been secretly kept deep within the army. The soldiers soon brought all of them. “Remove the cloth covers.”

Kongming gave the order. On each one was loaded a box as large as a small house. As the people watched with curious eyes, wondering what would appear, from beneath the removed cloth covers emerged a large chest.

Over ten vehicles were each loaded with a black-lacquered chest, while the remaining over ten vehicles each bore a vermilion-lacquered chest. Kongming took the keys and personally dismantled every last one of the vermilion chests. Terrifyingly enormous wooden-carved monstrous beasts stood lined up, using the vehicles as their legs. Lion-like wooden beasts, tiger-like wooden beasts, horned rhinoceros-like wooden beasts—each and every one was terrifyingly large and imposing.

“What on earth are you going to do with these, Chancellor?” “So these twenty-some vehicles we had transported all the way from Chengdu—they were for this?” The generals remained perplexed by Kongming’s intentions.

The next day, the Shu formation confronted the path at the cave entrance and established a formidable five-tiered defense.

Meng Huo, swollen with arrogance from the previous day’s victory, was brimming with combative zeal. He appeared at the front lines together with King Mulu. “That figure you see atop the four-wheeled chariot—that’s Zhuge Liang of Shu, the schemer,” he said, pointing. “Great King, I implore you to grant us another glorious victory like yesterday’s!” Mulu nodded deeply and rang his stemmed bell as was his custom, summoning a black wind to drive the pack of ferocious beasts toward the enemy forces. As countless beasts roared ferociously, sand flew and violent winds whirled. Kongming’s four-wheeled chariot abruptly wheeled about and began retreating into the second-tier formation.

Whipping his great elephant into a charge, King Mulu galloped forth and brandished his treasured sword from his lofty saddle.

“Kongming! Today, I’ll claim your life!” he declared, swinging his blade down. The blade struck down one pillar of the four-wheeled chariot. King Mulu unleashed another swift strike, then another, slashing while chanting incantations, but all three times, the tip of his blade failed to connect. Instead, the two foot spearmen who had circled around to the rear thrust their weapons into the great elephant’s belly. But the spears did not pierce the elephant’s belly. One spear broke, and another was deflected. Kongming raised his feather fan.

“Guan Suo! Why aren’t you stabbing them?” And shouting once more—

“King Mulu is dead!” he roared. “What?!” As King Mulu brandished his sword for the fourth time, an arrow whizzed and pierced his throat. Simultaneously, Guan Suo’s spear thrust upward from below and penetrated his chin. King Mulu fell with a ground-shaking thud. The foot soldiers pushing Kongming’s four-wheeled chariot that day were all elite Shu retainers led by Guan Suo. King Mulu had willingly charged into the strongest point of the Shu forces to meet his end.

When viewed in its entirety, even the previous day’s beast charge proved utterly useless on this day. The reason was that the Shu formation also had preparations of wooden beasts. These giant wooden monsters—wheeled at their legs, spewing fire and smoke from their mouths, even emitting strange roars—advanced forward, turned sideways, maneuvered freely in all directions, and terrified even the living tigers, leopards, and wolves to death with their imposing stature. To reveal the secret, inside each wooden beast were ten soldiers. The spitting of fire and smoke, the emitting of roars, and even their movements—all were powered by mechanisms and gunpowder installed inside. Of course, this was an unprecedented new weapon, devised by Kongming.

The barbarians were astonished, but even the real tigers and lions were startled. The living beast troops suddenly dropped their tails and collapsed into disarray. Shu’s war drums and horns shook heaven and earth as they pursued the fleeing barbarian army, finally occupying the palace of Silver Pit Mountain. Meng Huo, his wife Lady Zhurong, Dai Lai, and the rest of their clan had all abandoned their home and were fleeing when the Shu army lay in wait and captured them in one fell swoop. However, Kongming released Meng Huo and his entire family clan, “How do birds without nests and humans without homes survive? How much strength can there be in defying the king’s authority? Go—act as you will, to the fullest of your ability,” he declared once more as he released them.

Now bereft of even the vigor to spout grand boasts and venomous words, Meng Huo fled like a rat, clutching his head and vanishing from sight. As for the spinelessness of the clan members who revered him as their king and family head, it went without saying.

Tengjia Barbarians

I Already without a country, without a palace, and with nowhere to go, Meng Huo stood despondently,

“Where should we settle to plan our resurgence?” he consulted those around him.

Dai Lai, his wife’s younger brother, spoke. “Seven hundred li southeast from here lies a kingdom.” “It is known as the Wuge Kingdom, and its king is a man named Wutugu.” “They do not eat grains, do not cook with fire, consume wild beasts, snakes, and fish, and I hear their bodies are covered in scales.” “Moreover, under his command are soldiers called the Tengjia Army, numbering approximately thirty thousand.”

“What is this Tengjia Army?” “In the mountains and fields of Wuge Kingdom, wild vines grow thickly everywhere. After drying out these vines, they soak them in oil, then sun-dry them and soak them again—repeating this process dozens of times to weave armor from them.” “The soldiers wearing this armor are called the Tengjia Army—no neighboring kingdom has ever defeated them.” “Why is that?” “First characteristic: Even when soaked through with water, it remains impenetrable.” “Second: It’s extremely lightweight, granting great agility.” “Third: When crossing rivers, they don’t need boats—Tengjia soldiers float effortlessly on water and move freely.” “Fourth: The armor’s so tough that neither arrows nor blades can pierce it.”

“Then they must be truly invincible.” “I shall meet Wutugu and plead for aid in this dire hour.” Meng Huo himself gathered his clan’s defeated troops and journeyed to seek help from the Wuge Kingdom.

Without needing discussion, Wutugu nodded deeply and said, “Very well.” Immediately, thirty thousand subordinates donned their Tengjia armor and gathered in Dongshi. Meng Huo’s remaining soldiers gradually trickled in, forming a combined force of over a hundred thousand. Departing from the Wuge Kingdom, they encamped at Taoye River.

This river’s waters were emerald-blue to their depths, and both banks were thickly covered with many peach trees. As years passed, leaves fell into the river water and brewed a kind of poisonous water. If travelers drank it, they suffered severe diarrhea. However, among the natives of Wuge Kingdom, it was said to instead become a medicinal water that enhanced vitality.

After entering Silver Pit's barbarian capital, Kongming governed this land without plundering it, subdued its people without slaughtering them, thoroughly spread virtue, reorganized his forces, and was on the path of expanding his kingly campaign.

“Wei Yan, take a detachment and scout Taoye Crossing. Just engage them once to gauge their strength.”

Having received Kongming’s orders, Wei Yan immediately set out first and proceeded to Taoye River. On the way, they encountered soldiers from the Wuge Kingdom allied with Meng Huo’s forces. The barbarian army—brimming with vigor—boldly crossed the river and launched an offensive. Though he commanded a fresh large force against Wei Yan’s small detachment, it was the barbarians who raised war cries—their ferocity fully reigniting yesterday’s vigor. What first astonished them in that opening clash was how not one Shu-fired arrow proved effective. Strike after strike merely bounced off their armored bodies.

Even in close combat, swords could not pierce his body. With this confidence, the Tengjia Army’s morale was fierce, and they came swinging their barbarian swords as if to bite.

The Shu soldiers were immediately cut down and driven off, plunging into total disarray. “Fall back for now!” Sounding a horn, Wutugu leisurely withdrew his troops. He was someone who knew military strategy even more than Meng Huo. As they returned and crossed the river, the Tengjia soldiers all floated their bodies in the current and, like a swarm of water striders swimming, easily reached the opposite bank. Among them were soldiers who, due to the heat, removed their Tengjia armor, floated it on the water, and sat atop it to cross over.

Wei Yan was astonished at what he saw. He reported everything he had witnessed to Kongming and said, "They are truly strange barbarians." As he spoke, Kongming tilted his head thoughtfully, then called for Lü Kai and asked, "Which barbarian kingdom is this?" After consulting the map, Lü Kai replied, "It must be the Tengjia Army of the Wuge Kingdom." "They are soldiers beyond human governance." "Moreover, outsiders must never drink from Taohua's poisoned waters." "We should withdraw from this region now." "Facing such half-beast warriors would be unbearable," he urged emphatically.

II

Though he acknowledged Lü Kai's remonstrance, Kongming shook his head and addressed those around him.

“There is no greater sin than beginning an endeavor yet failing to see it through.” “What measureless waste of soldiers would that entail?” “How shall we answer to tens of thousands of vengeful spirits? — To withdraw now from these barbarian lands while leaving even one shadowed corner unconquered would render all our efforts void.”

The next day, he personally advanced his four-wheeled chariot, made a circuit of the Taoye River bank, and surveyed the nearby terrain. Furthermore, he alighted from his chariot, climbed a northern mountain on foot to survey the perilous terrain, returned silently to camp, and immediately summoned Ma Dai.

“In addition to the wooden beast vehicles we used earlier, there should be over ten war chariots loaded with black chests,” said Kongming. “You will drag them with a corps of soldiers and conceal them within Panshe Valley north of Taoye River.” He then leaned closer and whispered, “...and use the war chariots in this manner,” imparting some intricate secret plan. It appeared that utmost secrecy was necessary, for Kongming was uncharacteristically stern as he issued these orders.

“If you let the plan leak and cause defeat from within, I will court-martial and punish you.” “Do not be careless,” he cautioned. Ma Dai’s army, along with over ten war chariots, vanished without a trace from that very midnight.

The next morning, Kongming again summoned Zhao Yun and entrusted him with an army, “You shall proceed from the rear of Panshe Valley to the main road leading to Three Rivers and make the specified preparations.” “Do not miss the deadline under any circumstances.” Kongming commanded. Next, Wei Yan was summoned, “You will lead the elite troops, take up position directly before the enemy’s front, and establish camp on the banks of the Tao River.” When Kongming told him, “You may take as many soldiers as you wish,” Wei Yan was greatly delighted, thinking, *I am indeed the one to undertake the vanguard’s foremost line!*

“But—” Kongming continued, as if to suppress his eagerness. “By all means, you must not win. If the enemy crosses the river and launches a strong assault, fight them moderately and then retreat. Abandon your camp and flee—I will have a white flag raised at your destination. If the enemy attacks there again, flee in disarray and run to the next camp where a white flag is raised. At last, the enemy will press their advantage. You shall continue abandoning the camps at the fourth white flag location, the fifth white flag location, and so on, fleeing in an unsightly manner.”

Wei Yan puffed out his cheeks. "Just how far does Your Excellency command us to flee?"

“In roughly fifteen days, you must lose fifteen battles, abandon seven positions, and simply flee with your lives to wherever the white flags are visible.” “Ah, so that’s how it is.” As it was a military order he could not refuse, Wei Yan retreated with a sullen and displeased expression. In addition, Zhang Yi, Zhang Ni, Ma Zhong, and others each received their orders and proceeded to their assigned positions,

At Kongming’s declaration of “This time we shall root out every hostile element from these barbarian lands!”, each subordinate readied themselves and watched for the opportune moment to strike. Meanwhile, Wutugu and Meng Huo had withdrawn south of the river. Though brimming with arrogance, they warned each other against reckless moves. “That Kongming’s schemes know no bounds—you can never predict his tricks,” Meng Huo cautioned. “Great King Wutugu, I beg you to stay vigilant too. Should there be any woods or mountain shadows where troops might hide, exercise utmost care there.”

“Ah, Meng Huo. I’m well aware of that part. You’re the one who’s always getting carried away—watch yourself.”

A barbarian sentry came to report. “Since last night, Shu soldiers have been building a camp on the northern shore. It’s quite a considerable force.”

"Let me see, let me see." The two barbarian kings went out to the shore and shaded their eyes.

“If they establish a fortified camp at that strategic position, it will prove troublesome. Destroy it now while we have the chance!” At this command, the Tengjia barbarian forces immediately crossed the river and launched their assault. Wei Yan fought repeatedly yet kept retreating. However, the barbarian troops had grown cautious. They did not pursue too far. After securing each victory, they would skillfully recross the river and withdraw to their original bank. Wei Yan likewise returned to the previous shore and began rebuilding his camp. Kongming reinforced him with fresh troops. Observing this, the barbarians also increased their numbers and renewed their attacks.

War Chariots and Landmines

One

On this day, with Wutugu himself taking command of the entire Tengjia Army, they crossed the river. The Shu soldiers pretended to put up fierce resistance while gradually collapsing into disarray, soon losing all formation as they discarded their banners, weapons, and helmets in their desperate retreat.

And they gathered at a point where a single white flag fluttered. “The enemy has developed a habit of fleeing. It’s safe now—chase them down and slaughter them all!”

Wutugu, triumphant, also signaled to Meng Huo, who was positioned in the rear of their forces. And finally, they pressed their pursuit and struck the enemy's formation once more. Wei Yan, as planned, continued his retreat, tracing the points of defeat from the third white flag to the fourth while feigning defeat in battle after battle. Within seven days, they abandoned three camps and collapsed seven formations as they fled. “Hmm? They’re breaking a bit too easily.”

Wutugu had likely begun to suspect something. Their pursuit slackened slightly. And then, Wei Yan suddenly rallied his forces, added fresh troops, and launched a counterattack. In the counterattack, he advanced to the front and challenged Wutugu to a duel. And because he fled from the tip of his halberd, Wutugu— "Now is the time!" he spurred on and began to pursue in earnest.

The decoy operation was difficult. If they fled too much, suspicion would arise. Wei Yan periodically turned back to hurl insults at the enemy and put on false displays of strength, ultimately fleeing continuously for fifteen days while following fifteen white markers. By this point, even the deeply suspicious Wutugu could no longer resist growing arrogant about his military achievements. Looking back at his troops from atop his great elephant, he boasted: "What did I tell you? In fifteen days of continuous battle, we've smashed seven Shu fortifications and won fifteen engagements! From Taojiang onward across three hundred li, not a single enemy soldier remains! Even Kongming himself flees like leaves before the wind - this campaign's outcome might as well be decided! Sound the victory song! Sound it now!"

Drunken on their accumulated victories and plundered wine, they radiated ferocious energy as the invincible Tengjia Army's confidence brimmed fully, advancing toward the next day's battle. On this day, General Wutugu rode a white elephant, wearing a wolf-head cap crowned with a white moon and scale armor inlaid with blue-gold and white pearls. His jet-black limbs stood fully exposed, his face like an enraged arhat as he swung his iron spear through the Shu ranks. Wei Yan confronted them head-on, putting up a fierce struggle before deliberately fleeing around a mountain and vanishing into Panshe Valley's depths.

Wutugu, who had pursued them with his subordinates, tentatively halted his white elephant. Is there an ambush? he wondered, scanning the area with wary eyes, but seeing no vegetation on the surrounding mountains nor any signs of hidden troops, he set his mind at ease and ordered his entire army to rest in the valley. Where have the Shu army vanished to? he wondered, pausing to catch his breath. Then his subordinate barbarian soldiers reported: From here onward into the depths, large freight carts—over a dozen of them—have been abandoned in various places.

Upon receiving this report, he personally went to inspect and indeed found carts that appeared to be freight carts loaded with provisions scattered everywhere. “This is excellent spoils!” Wutugu exclaimed. “In their panicked flight, the enemy dragged these freight carts into the valley but upon encountering the mountain path—unable to retreat or advance—they abandoned them and fled. Inside these freight carts must be rare delicacies from Chengdu. Drag all those out of the valley and gather them there!” And as he himself turned back and tried to exit the narrow pass of the valley path, suddenly, with a deafening roar that shook heaven and earth, enormous boulders and massive trees came crashing down upon his head.

“What the—?!” he gasped in shock, but before they could retreat, the barbarian soldiers on both sides were crushed beneath massive boulders and giant trees, becoming hundreds of corpses. Moreover, because large trees and boulders continued to rain down, the valley entrance was instantly blocked. “There are still enemies on the mountain! Get out quickly!” “Clear the path now!” As he shouted commands like a madman, a cart beside him spontaneously burst into flames.

In their mounting panic, the entire army surged chaotically into the depths of the valley—when suddenly, with a thunderous roar, the earth exploded. The limbs of barbarian soldiers blown away by raging flames and explosive smoke had become dust in the sky along with earth and sand.

II Wutugu leapt from the white elephant's back. The white elephant, driven mad by flames, plunged into their fiery midst and burned itself alive. He clung to the cliff face, scrambling desperately upward, but from both mountain flanks rained down torches like liquid fire. To make matters worse—when flames reached the fuses hidden among rock crevices and beneath the earth—that sprawling valley transformed in an instant into a searing hellscape akin to an oil cauldron set ablaze. Flame-light clawed at the heavens, explosions roared without respite, and billowing smoke thickened with a putrid stench.

The Tengjia Army of Wuguo were burned to death, not a single soldier remaining. Their numbers exceeded thirty thousand, and after the flames had finally subsided, viewing this from above Panshe Valley was akin to seeing the hollowed husks of vermin exterminated by fire. The next day, Zhuge Liang stood there, shedding streaming tears,

"For the sake of the state, there may be some merit," he said, "but I will surely shorten my own lifespan." He sighed deeply. "However one argues it, to have committed slaughter on such a scale..." All who heard this were moved to pity—save Zhao Yun alone, who instead criticized this as Kongming’s narrow view. “Life flows ceaselessly; souls transmigrate perpetually,” Zhao Yun declared. “When they take form, they perish; when they perish, they form anew. Is this not the unchanging aspect of the great life that has endured for tens of thousands of years? When the Yellow River’s waters overflow once, tens of thousands of lives vanish—yet beneath heaven’s vault, grain ripens anew and people multiply once more. In the Yellow River’s raging currents lies Heaven’s will alone, with no virtue of human intent—but does not your great undertaking carry the mission of royal transformation? Even were you to destroy a million barbarians, if you plant virtue in their land to endure a thousand years—what meaning could such trifling slaughter hold?”

“Ah… Well spoken.”

Zhuge Liang received Zhao Yun’s palm upon his forehead and shed several more streams of tears.

Meanwhile, Meng Huo, King of the Southern Barbarians, remained at his rear camp, still completely unaware—even in his dreams—of the total annihilation of the Wuguo soldiers. At that moment, approximately a thousand barbarian soldiers came to meet them. “Under King Wuzhang’s command, the Tengjia Army has relentlessly pursued even the formidable Shu forces, finally driving Kongming into Panshe Valley.” “We humbly request that Your Majesty come immediately and together deign to witness Kongming’s final moments—this is the message we have been instructed to convey.” Upon hearing this, Meng Huo,

"Perfect!

"Kongming has finally met his end." With that, Meng Huo immediately mounted his elephant and hurried toward Panshe Valley with all his men. "Ah—in our haste to rush ahead, have we taken the wrong path?" By the time they noticed, the suspicious unit of a thousand barbarian soldiers that had been rushing ahead as guides was nowhere to be found. “Something’s off here...” When he tried to turn back, it was already too late. From one side of the sparse woods, Zhang Ni and Wang Ping charged out while beating war drums, and from the shadow of the mountain on another front, Wei Yan and Ma Zhong raised battle cries and pressed forward.

“Fall back! No—forward!” In their extreme panic, they charged headlong toward the base of the mountain—when suddenly war banners and drums came cascading down from the slopes all at once. “Meng Huo, prepare yourself!” Then Guan Suo, Ma Dai, and other young Shu generals charged forward, brandishing dragon spears and snake lances. “Damn it!” The white elephant was too slow. Meng Huo jumped down and dashed into a path through the forest. Then from ahead came crisp ringing of golden and silver bells as a four-wheeled chariot with a cool silk canopy was pushed forward. It was Kongming. He wore that gentle smile. Raising his feather fan, he barked,

“Traitorous cur Meng Huo! Have you still not opened your eyes?!” he thundered. Meng Huo’s vision swam. With an “Aaaah—!” he thrust both fists skyward, then let out a guttural groan before collapsing unconscious. Without difficulty, they bound him with ropes, and Ma Dai led him back. Shu’s various generals laughed together at the notion that even a wild beast could possess nerves bold enough to dazzle one’s eyes, peering into his temporary cell as they passed by.

The Sovereign’s Wind Reaches Ten Thousand Li

1

That night, Kongming met with his generals. At the conclusion of their discussions, “Zhao Yun spoke most wisely and consoled my strategic decisions,” he said, “but regardless of all else, the act of daring to carry out this great slaughter gravely damaged my hidden virtue.” Then regarding that strategy—

"The stratagem of conducting fifteen consecutive retreats to lure the enemy's arrogance and guide them into Panshe Valley must already be clear to you all." "However, this great battle of annihilation differed somewhat from conventional warfare through my employment of landmines, war chariots, fuse lines, and other devices I had devised since my youth." "But remember—war remains fundamentally about people themselves. Weapons alone are not what decide its course." "Therefore, we must never allow Shu's possession of these new weapons to weaken our soldiers' resolve—this is what I now fear for our future."

he continued, further, “At first, when the Tengjia Army appeared, even I was momentarily at a loss for strategy—this was because I had only been shown their advantageous maneuvers. But upon reconsidering their weaknesses through the principle that *what thrives in water inevitably perishes in fire*, I realized the oil-soaked rattan armor would not only fail to protect them against flames but would instead become the very thing to burn them alive.” “—the plans for Flame Chariots and Landmines were all conceived and executed from that realization,” he explained, delivering what resembled a lecture on military tactics.

All the generals sighed thrice and bowed in deep reverence, acknowledging that the Chancellor’s divine wisdom was unfathomable.

The next day, Zhuge Liang had Meng Huo, Lady Zhurong, his brother-in-law Dai Lai, and even Meng You strung together like prayer beads and dragged out from the camp’s prison cells. He gazed at them with a mournful expression, “Well, well… Can it be that even the sunlight’s compassion finally fails to penetrate those devoid of virtue? Barely human wretches—to gaze upon them shames the eyes. Untie them quickly and send them back to the wilderness,” he said, then began walking away with a countenance as detached as the flowing Dian Dian River—transcending both affection and resentment.

Then suddenly, he let out a strange wail, “Chancellor…!” “Wait! Wait!”

Meng Huo cried out. No—still bound, he leapt and seized Kongming’s robe.

“What?” As Zhuge Liang looked on from the corner of his eye, Meng Huo kowtowed so fiercely his forehead nearly struck the ground, “I was wrong! Grant me mercy!” he forced out in a choked voice. Then with convulsive sobs—“Ah! Ah!”—he pleaded, “Though we be ignorant barbarians, never since ancient times have we heard of one captured seven times and released seven times. “However uncivilized we may be, how could we remain ungrateful for such boundless compassion? “…Spare us. Grant us your mercy.”

“Hmm… Truly?” “Wh-why…? Just thinking about the extent of my past wrongs fills me with utter terror.” “Very well. Let us rejoice together. Let us prosper together.”

Kongming struck his knee and personally untied his bonds—as well as those of Lady Zhurong, Meng You, Dai Lai, and all other clan members—releasing them.

"For the first time, Kongming's heart became transparent." "No—the sovereign's influence reached ten thousand li, leaving nothing untouched." "I too am pleased." Meng Huo's clan members spoke in unison, "—The Chancellor's divine authority and the sovereign's compassionate grace! We Nanman shall never rebel again!" they proclaimed and swore. Zhuge Liang then altered his tone and addressed Meng Huo. "King Meng Huo—have you now truly submitted?" "There is no cause for such concern." "Then exist with me." With that, he reverently took Meng Huo's hand, invited him into the command tent, provided seats to his wife and clan members, shared a celebratory feast, and with cup clinking against cup, made this covenant.

“I will bear all your sins. I will bestow Kongming’s achievements upon you. Therefore, you shall continue to reign as King of the Southern Barbarians as before and love and care for the people of these barbarian lands. And strive to spread royal influence in my place.” Upon hearing this, Meng Huo covered his face with both hands and, for a time... could not dry his tears of shame. The entire clan’s tears of emotion and jubilant leaps went without saying.

II

A campaign spanning ten thousand li [~5,000 km]. The day of return came.

Looking back through a hundred trials and battles, this living existence felt nothing short of miraculous.

Chief Clerk Fei Yi, a member of the headquarters staff, secretly remonstrated with Kongming during the complete withdrawal.

“Having ventured so far into these barbarian lands and achieved such hard-won merits, to leave not a single Shu official stationed here—is this not like mowing the grass and waiting for rain?” “Incorrect.”

Kongming shook his head.

“That approach has one advantage but three disadvantages.” “First: Minor officials would undermine the virtue of royal governance.” “Second: Being far from the royal capital, they would neglect administrative duties and indulge in abusing their personal authority.” “Third: Should there be hidden crimes of mutual slaughter among the barbarian people after the war, they would harbor suspicions toward each other and risk inciting internal conflicts.” “Moreover, rather than having royal officials impose governance, nothing surpasses letting the original barbarian king and tribes maintain their close bonds.” “Furthermore, if we simply ensure they observe tribute rituals, Chengdu need not expend effort or resources—could we not maintain this land as both our nation’s outer bulwark and a fertile domain?”

“Your Excellency’s words are a supremely excellent strategy.”

Everyone complied with his words. When they heard that the Shu army was returning north, both the cave tribes of the barbarian lands and the common people vied with each other to send gifts of gold and pearls, treasures, cinnabar lacquer, medicinal herbs, spices, plow oxen, animal hides, warhorses, and more to the camp in droves, and furthermore, “From now on, year after year, we will not fail to offer tribute to the Son of Heaven. We shall not rebel.”

Thus, they all pledged an oath. And then one day, when they summoned Kongming, reverently calling him "Benevolent Father Chancellor" and "Venerable Grandfather Kongming," they swiftly erected living shrines (places of worship for a living deity) at various battle sites across the land, never ceasing their seasonal offerings and worship.

At this time, in the Jianxing 3rd Year of Shu, it was autumn's ninth month.

Kongming and his three armies finally set out on their return journey. The Central Army, Left Army, and Right Army tightly guarded his four-wheeled chariot, with red banners and silver flags arrayed before and behind. The procession—comprising tribute convoys, cavalry units, white elephant detachments, and dozens of infantry regiments—presented a spectacle grander than when they had first marched south. Adding to this magnificent spectacle, King Meng Huo of the Nanman also brought his entire clan to join the retinue, while various cave lords and chieftains arrived with drum troops and formed a procession of beauties to see them off all the way to the banks of the Lu River.

Along with the incineration of thirty thousand at Panshe Valley, here at the Lu River too they lost many allies and slew enemy soldiers. At night, Kongming floated a boat into midstream, wrote a prayer addressing the various heavens, prayed to tens of thousands of ghosts and spirits, chanted words dedicating this to war's departed souls while beseeching their peaceful rest, then sent it floating downriver with offerings. Having heard of an ancient custom where three living people were sunk as sacrifices whenever this river raged vengefully, Kongming mixed flour with meat to shape human heads which he used as offerings that night.

The inherited method that came to be called *mantou* originated from the sacrifices at the Lu River, and there is a legend that Kongming was the first to devise this plan—though what truth lies therein? In any case, even on the return journey, the fact that he never ceased to consider such local customs of each land and their religious psychology—spreading virtue and winning over sentiments—stood in stark contrast to a mere barbarian-subduing general’s unwavering martial authority.

With the waves calm, the voice of the prayer stirred the emotions of the three armies and made even the unfeeling barbarian people weep as his three armies had already returned to Yongchang Commandery. “You have all endured much hardship.” “In due time, there will be a bestowal of rewards from the Emperor himself.” With that, he dismissed Lü Kai from his guide duties and, together with Wang Kang, assigned them to guard the four nearby commanderies. Moreover, reluctant to part, he granted leave to Meng Huo, who had followed him this far, “Apply yourself diligently to governance, encourage the residents’ agricultural work, manage your household, and ensure that your later years are honorable.”

Zhuge Liang repeated his admonitions earnestly.

Meng Huo returned south, weeping bitterly. “During his lifetime, the barbarian lands will likely not rebel again.”

Kongming said to those around him.

Chengdu was already winter. The three armies returning from the south, finding even the cold wind nostalgic, entered the Triumphal Gate.

Deer and the Wei Crown Prince

1

Kongming returned, the Chancellor returned.

The entire city of Chengdu was in a state of uproarious cheers. On that day, Emperor Liu Shan too was summoned to the imperial carriage and went out beyond thirty li from the palace gates to welcome Kongming and the three armies.

When Kongming beheld the Emperor’s phoenix carriage, he leapt down from his chariot. “This is too great an honor,” he said, prostrating himself in worship and bowing low to the ground. “I, your unworthy servant—lacking in talent yet embarking on a distant expedition—failed to swiftly pacify the region. I have caused the loss of many Imperial Forest soldiers and disturbed Your Majesty’s august heart. I beg that my crimes be judged first.” “No, Chancellor,” replied the Emperor. “I am simply overjoyed to see you safe and sound.” Turning to his retinue, he commanded, “Someone help him up!” He ordered his attendants to lift Kongming, then extended his own hand and shared his seat within the imperial carriage with him.

The young emperor and Chancellor Kongming sat side by side in the same carriage, their faces fully bathed in sunlight. As they passed through Chengdu Palace’s Huayang Gate, the citizens of the entire city raised cheers that seemed to reach the heavens, while hundreds of towers and thousands of pavilions within the palace grounds all at once began playing music—as if purple clouds were descending upon the golden palace itself. But Kongming had forgotten his own achievements. He ordered officials to seek out and thoroughly comfort all descendants of those who had perished in battle or illness during the campaign; whenever leisure permitted, he visited rural villages he had long neglected to inquire about that year’s harvests, called upon village elders and diligent farmers, honored filial children, punished corrupt officials, and investigated cases of insufficient annual taxes—devoting himself to every aspect of governance. Thus, whether in cities or countryside, there was none among high or low who did not praise this land as a paradise of peace for the people, its virtuous governance manifest upon the earth.

×　　　　　×　　　　　× The exceptional talent of Cao Rui， Crown Prince to Emperor Cao Pi of Wei， had recently become the talk of Wei． The Crown Prince was still fifteen years old． His mother was a woman of the Zhen family． Renowned as a beauty said to bring down kingdoms， she first became the wife of Yuan Shao’s second son Yuan Xi but， upon his defeat in battle， entered Cao Pi’s household and later gave birth to Crown Prince Cao Rui． But Cao Rui too was shadowed by a measure of misfortune． This was because his mother Zhen Shi’s favor had gradually faded， and his father Cao Pi’s affections had shifted to Lady Guo．

Lady Guo was the daughter of Guo Yong from Guangzong, and her beauty was said to be without equal in all of Wei. Since the people praised her as the queen among women, after being admitted into Wei Palace, she came to be respectfully addressed as "Queen Guo Guifei".

However, her heart was not as beautiful as her countenance. In order to eliminate Empress Zhen, she conspired with a court official named Zhang Tao to write Emperor Wei's birthdate on a paulownia wood doll, inscribe a spell stating in which year and month it would be buried in the earth, and deliberately discard it where Cao Pi would see it.

Cao Pi was unable to see through that deceit and ultimately deposed Empress Zhen. Now—Crown Prince Cao Rui had been raised since childhood by this Queen Guo and had experienced hardships, but his nature remained exceedingly cheerful, never once sniveling. He possessed a genius-like spark particularly in archery and horsemanship.

In the early spring of that year.

Cao Pi went on a hunting expedition with his officials. They spotted a female deer, and Cao Pi’s single arrow skillfully halted its flight. When the mother deer was shot dead, her fawn darted sideways in panic and cowered beneath Cao Rui’s horse. Cao Pi raised his voice and, “Cao Rui! Why don’t you shoot it? No—why not stab it with your sword? The fawn is right beneath your horse!” He brandished his bow in frustration. Then Cao Rui, wiping his tears,

“Even now, my heart aches that Father shot the mother deer—how could I kill her fawn?”

He threw down his bow and burst into tears. “Ah, this child will become a virtuous ruler.” With that, Cao Pi instead rejoiced and enfeoffed him as the Duke of Qi.

That summer, in May.

Suddenly falling ill with typhoid fever, Cao Pi passed away. He was still only forty years old.

II

Due to his father's benevolence during his lifetime and posthumous edict, Crown Prince Cao Rui came to be revered as the next Great Emperor of Wei. This was in accordance with the Jiafu Hall Pact. The Jiafu Hall Pact refers to when Cao Pi, on his deathbed, summoned three high-ranking ministers to his bedside,

“Though young, I believe my son Cao Rui possesses the virtuous qualities to inherit Great Wei’s legacy. You must unite your hearts to assist him and never act against my will.” Revering this posthumous edict, the three senior ministers also swore, “We shall not betray your posthumous trust.”

This referred to the matter of them having sworn their oath.

The senior ministers summoned to his bedside at that time were:

General-in-Chief of the Central Army Cao Zhen.

General-in-Chief of the Garrison Army Chen Qun. General-in-Chief of the Pacification Army Sima Yi Zhongda.

These were the three individuals. Based on this, the three senior ministers revered Cao Rui as the Later Lord, posthumously honored Cao Pi as Emperor Wen, and bestowed the title Empress Wenzhao upon the late Empress Dowager Zhen. Naturally, reforms had to be implemented in both the roster of Wei Palace's court officials and the positions held by the imperial clan. First, Zhong Yao was appointed as Grand Tutor, Cao Zhen was made Grand General, and Cao Xiu was named Grand Marshal. In addition to Wang Lang as Minister Over the Masses, Chen Qun as Minister of Works, and Hua Xin as Grand Commandant, promotions in rank were also carried out for numerous civil and military officials, and a general amnesty decree was promulgated across the realm.

Here, one issue was Sima Yi Zhongda’s appointment as General of Agile Cavalry. It was not exactly an exceptional promotion, but for this man, there was somehow a sense that he had found his rightful place. Moreover, knowing that there was no one to defend the Yong and Liang provinces at that time, he himself presented a memorial, “I humbly request that you entrust me with the defense of Xiliang provinces,” he petitioned.

Speaking of Xiliang Province, it was a frontier region close to the northern barbarian borders, incomparable to the capital in its remoteness. In the past, Ma Teng had emerged and Ma Chao had appeared; it had been a place prone to frequent rebellions and difficult to govern. To Sima Yi’s fervent wish to govern this region, the Emperor had naturally granted imperial approval, and among Wei’s senior ministers, none had opposed it—they had merely considered it an eccentric whim. Therefore, the imperial court specially designated his official position as “Commander of Military Affairs for Xiliang Provinces” and bestowed the official seal.

"Whew, what a relief."

Sima Yi Zhongda, advancing his horse northward to his new post, felt as though he had finally emerged from a cramped birdcage into the open sky after so long. Even his every breath felt expansive.

The strained relations between court attendants and senior ministers within the palace had long festered. He had served since Cao Cao's era. By nature, his true disposition seemed ill-suited for prolonged existence in such stagnant waters. Shu's spies swiftly learned of this personnel transfer and promptly reported it to Chengdu. None among Shu's ministers thought anything of it.

“Ah, so Zhongda was sent to Xiliang?”

That was the extent of their concern. However, upon hearing this, there was one person who was aghast and pressed their lips together.

That person was none other than Kongming. But there was another who shared his astonishment and immediately came to the Chancellor’s office—the young Ma Su.

“Have you heard?” “I learned yesterday.” “A man from Wen in Henei—Sima Yi. His style name is Zhongda. That man is not merely a figure of Wei alone—I have always regarded him as a hero of our age.” “If there is one who will bring calamity upon our Shu in days to come, it will surely be him. As for Cao Rui inheriting the throne of Great Wei’s emperor—that is hardly worth troubling over.”

“I share your concern,” Ma Su said. “Zhongda’s assignment to Xiliang cannot be overlooked.”

“Shall we strike now, while we have the chance?” “No, Chancellor. Not much time has passed since the Southern Campaign. This requires prudent consideration. Please leave this matter to me—I will deceive Cao Rui without mobilizing troops and bring about Sima Yi’s demise.” Despite his youth, it was an audacious declaration. Kongming studied Ma Su’s face.

Chu Shi Biao (Memorial on the Expedition)

1.

Ma Su said.

“For some reason, Sima Yi Zhongda—despite possessing such talent and having served Wei for so long—has not been entrusted with significant responsibilities in Wei.” “I have heard he attended upon Cao Cao and worked in the library office when barely twenty years of age.” “Considering he’s a meritorious servant who has served three generations—Cao Cao, Cao Pi, and Cao Rui—isn’t his current position far too desolate?” Kongming watched the speaker’s face with tranquil eyes. Ma Su, having laid this foundation, presented to Kongming a stratagem from his mind.

“In fact, Sima Yi personally requested his appointment and assumed office in Xiliang Province. Clearly, there must be a desire in his heart to distance himself from Wei’s central government. Naturally, it is certain that Wei’s senior ministers find Sima Yi’s actions unsettling and harbor suspicions. Therefore, if we spread rumors throughout the realm that Sima Yi Zhongda shows signs of rebellion and circulate forged edicts to various regions, Wei’s central government will immediately become confused and will undoubtedly either execute Sima Yi or strip him of his position and exile him to the borderlands.”

His arguments aligned well with Kongming's own considerations. Kongming accepted his counsel and secretly put the plan into action. This was what is called a domestic disinformation campaign against the enemy. They employed travelers, used covert agents, leveraged family connections from house to house, spread rumors through women—every available resource was exploited.

Meanwhile, they forged proclamations and distributed them to military clans across various provinces. As anticipated, just as malicious rumors about Sima Yi had begun spreading through society, one copy of this manifesto fell into the hands of gatekeepers at Luoyang and Yecheng, who immediately reported it to Wei's imperial court. The manifesto brimmed with inflammatory rhetoric. It catalogued crimes spanning three generations of Wei's rule and urged disaffected factions across the realm to overthrow the Wei dynasty. "Is this truly a proclamation penned by Sima Yi himself?"

Though the color drained from his face, Cao Rui still seemed to waver as he posed this inquiry at a secret council of his senior ministers.

Grand Commandant Hua Xin prostrated and replied, "Previously, when Sima Yi requested governance over Xiliang territory, I had pondered what lay in his heart. Through this matter, we subjects believe we have discerned his intentions." "However, We retain no memory of Sima Yi ever rebelling against Us." "What grievance do you deem would drive him to turn his bow against Wei?" "That is something Emperor Wu, the Grand Ancestor"—here Hua Xin referenced Cao Cao's posthumous title—"had already astutely perceived long ago when he proclaimed: 'Sima Yi gazes like a hawk and glances back like a wolf.'" "Thus during Emperor Wu's reign, he was relegated to trivial duties—sorting documents in archives—and never entrusted with military affairs." "This stemmed from Emperor Wu's deep and profound conviction that granting him military authority would instead cultivate a scourge upon the state."

Wang Lang also expressed his personal opinion. “As Hua Xin has just stated, Sima Yi Zhongda—from his youth—deeply studied military stratagems and grasped tactics and strategy, yet remained cautious. Even during the reign of the late emperor, he merely feigned ignorance. Now that Your Majesty, still young, has ascended the throne, he has revealed his eagle-like nature for the first time. Like a wolf, he has issued a proclamation from Xiliang and schemed to achieve his longstanding ambition.” “If Your Majesty does not swiftly subjugate him, it will ultimately become a wildfire that engulfs the plains.”

Because Cao Rui, King of Wei, was young, even after hearing the arguments of his various ministers, he remained indecisive and could not reach a resolution. Meanwhile, Cao Zhen of the imperial clan,

“Such a thing couldn’t possibly happen. If one were to rashly launch an expedition and it proved unfounded, would that not invite discord between ruler and subject?” This prudent opposition ultimately led to a proposal: following Emperor Gaozu of Han’s precedent of making an imperial visit to Yunmeng, the Wei Emperor himself would travel to Anyi. When Sima Yi came forth to greet him, they would discreetly observe his demeanor; if signs of rebellion were detected, he should be arrested on the spot.

Before long, the imperial visit was realized.

In accordance with the proclamation, Sima Yi Zhongda splendidly organized tens of thousands of troops and horses from Xiliang and departed from his current location to meet the Wei Emperor’s imperial carriage in the land of Anyi. Then, from somewhere,

“Beware! Sima Yi is leading a force of a hundred thousand and pressing toward us!” As this uproar erupted, the close ministers were thrown into turmoil, and the Wei Emperor turned pale, transforming everywhere along the route into a crucible of panicked hearts and swirling rumors.

2.

Unaware of everything, Sima Yi Zhongda entered Anyi Town leading tens of thousands of soldiers. Suddenly, with their iron armor appearing ominously formidable, Cao Xiu’s army blocked their path,

“You shall not pass!”

Cao Xiu shouted this and, advancing his horse, roared: “Listen, Zhongda.” “Were you not one who received the august edict from the late emperor, personally entrusting me to your care?” “Why do you plot rebellion?” “Try to take even a single step beyond here, and I’ll show you what’s what!” Zhongda was astonished and loudly protested that it was nothing more than a scheme of Shu’s spies. Then, dismounting from his horse, discarding his sword, and leaving tens of thousands of soldiers outside the city walls, he proceeded alone,

“I shall explain the particulars directly to His Majesty when granted audience,” he said, then followed Cao Xiu.

And when he reached before the Wei Emperor’s carriage, he prostrated himself upon the earth and tearfully defended himself against the baseless accusations. “This humble official’s request for the fief of Xiliang was never motivated by personal ambition or self-interest. Considering the strategic importance of that land, it was solely to secretly prepare defenses against Shu.” “I humbly beg you to observe a while longer.” “I solemnly swear that I will first conquer Shu, then destroy Wu, and thus repay the grace of three generations of sovereigns. I humbly beg to present this oath before your eyes in the days to come.”

Cao Rui’s heart was moved by Sima Yi’s solemn bearing, but Hua Xin, Wang Lang, and others remained unconvinced. Viewing him through the lens of “he is both an eagle and a wolf,” they decided to keep Zhongda waiting while holding secret deliberations centered on the young emperor. Naturally, it went without saying that Hua Xin and Wang Lang’s words would determine the outcome. Thus, it was settled: “In essence, the error lay in granting Sima Yi a position commanding military forces.” “It breeds baseless speculations among the people and becomes the root of such instability.” “Let him be rendered an eagle without talons and cast into the wilderness.” “This follows Emperor Wen of Han’s precedent in dealing with Zhou Bo.”

By imperial decree, Sima Yi Zhongda was stripped of his official positions and sent back to his hometown on the spot. And the Yongliang military forces he had left behind were taken over by Cao Xiu.

This matter was immediately reported to Chengdu by Shu's spies.

Zhuge Liang was generally not one to show emotion, but upon hearing this news, it was said he rejoiced without limit, remarking: "While Zhongda remained in Xiliang, I had believed there was little room to expand my designs—but now what concerns could remain?" He secluded himself in the Chancellor's residence for several days, closing its gates and refusing all visitors. Though he had similarly closed these gates during Wei's Five-Pronged Invasion crisis years prior, this time however, he was not seen daily by the pond in the rear garden as he had been before.

After days of divine contemplation, he spent one night writing a document to present to the Later Sovereign Liu Shan by candlelight, following purification rites and ablutions. The later-famous *Chu Shi Biao* was indeed completed at this time. It now appeared he had firmly resolved to carry out the Northern Expedition. Each sentence, each chapter—he poured his heart’s blood into writing them. This was not a laborious crafting of ornate phrases; rather, it sought to convey his full-hearted loyalty and the state’s century-spanning strategies.

Within its text, the memorial first expounded upon the kingly virtues that the Later Sovereign ought to uphold as emperor; it then discussed the present state of the realm, described Shu’s current circumstances, and explicitly named loyal ministers whose trustworthiness should be boldly affirmed. As he reflected on his profound bond with the Late Emperor Xuande and their shared sentiments, when his brush reached this part, traces of loyal tears—torrential in their flow—could be seen staining the paper and ink.

The memorial was a lengthy text.

I, your subject Liang, humbly state: The Late Emperor had not yet completed his founding endeavor when he passed away midway. Now the realm is divided into three, and Yi Province is exhausted. This is truly a critical juncture of survival. Yet the ministers who attend within do not grow lax, and the loyal officers who serve without do not forget their duty—this is because they bear the Late Emperor’s exceptional favor and desire to repay it to Your Majesty. It is truly imperative that Your Majesty open wide your sacred ear, so as to illuminate the Late Emperor’s enduring virtues and broaden the resolve of loyal officers. You must not thoughtlessly belittle yourself, invoking analogies and losing righteousness, thereby blocking the path of loyal remonstrance—

At the very beginning, he poured his loyal heart into admonishing the young emperor as follows.

3.

Furthermore， he advanced his brush，

The imperial court and the chancellor’s office must act as one; evaluations of merit and demerit, promotions and punishments—these should not differ between them. If there are those who commit villainy, violate laws, or perform loyal and good deeds, they should be handed over to the authorities to determine their punishments or rewards, in order to manifest Your Majesty’s fair governance. You must not act with partiality, causing internal and external laws to differ. [He] expounded on the fundamental principles of the state and enumerated the talented individuals vital to the nation,

Palace Attendants and Court Gentlemen Guo Youzhi, Fei Yi, and Dong Yun are all good and honest individuals of thoughtful loyalty. It was for this reason that the Late Emperor selected them and bequeathed them to Your Majesty. In my humble opinion, if Your Majesty consults them on all matters within the palace, whether major or minor, and only after doing so implements them, you will surely remedy deficiencies and achieve widespread benefits. General Shang Chong is virtuous and balanced in character and conduct, well-versed in military affairs. He was tested in former times, and the Late Emperor deemed him capable. Based on this public deliberation, Chong was promoted to Commander. In my humble opinion, if all matters in the camps—whether major or minor—are consulted with him, he will surely deploy troops harmoniously, assess strengths and weaknesses, and assign each to their appropriate roles.

For cherishing wise ministers and distancing petty men was the reason for the Former Han’s prosperity, while cherishing petty men and distancing the wise was the cause of the Later Han’s decline. Whenever the Late Emperor was present, he would discuss this matter with your subject, and never was there a time when he did not sigh with grief and resentment toward Emperors Huan and Ling. Palace Attendants, Secretaries, Chief Clerks, and Army Advisors—all are ministers of unwavering loyalty who would die for their principles. I humbly entreat Your Majesty to draw close to them and place your trust in them. Thus, the day of the Han house’s resurgence can be counted upon and awaited.

Shifting focus, Kongming’s brush now turned to recollecting the bond he had shared with the Late Emperor Xuande. Whether that brush was dipped in blood or tears, one cannot help but wonder if even he could not hold back streams of hot tears as he wrote. "I was once a commoner who tilled the fields of Nanyang," he penned, "striving only to preserve my life in this chaotic age and never seeking fame among the lords. Yet the Late Emperor did not despise my lowly station, and in his grace, he thrice deigned to visit my thatched cottage to consult me on the affairs of the realm." "Moved by this," the brush continued its solemn dance, "I finally devoted myself in service to the Late Emperor." "Later, encountering collapse," ink pooled like spilled resolve upon the parchment, "I received my charge amidst defeated armies and was commanded to serve through perilous trials—from that time until now, twenty-one years have passed."

The Late Emperor knew of your subject’s prudence; thus, upon his demise, he entrusted me with great affairs. Since receiving this command, I have been anxious day and night, fearing that my efforts have not met the trust placed in me and thus I dread tarnishing the Late Emperor’s illustrious name. Therefore, in May, I crossed the Lu River and advanced deep into the barren lands. Now the south has been pacified, and arms and armor are sufficient. I shall now lead the three armies and pacify the northern central plains. I humbly hope to exhaust my meager talents, expel the treacherous villains, restore the Han house, and return reverently to the old capital. This is what I have devoted to the Late Emperor, and it is the duty by which I am loyal to Your Majesty.

In this passage, Kongming clearly indicated the nation’s course. And by its completion, he made it his duty as a subject and declared it to be Shu’s grand ideal. That is to say, it is the realization of two things: the restoration of the Han house and the return to the old capital. To achieve this, while we, your subjects, shall toil relentlessly, Your Majesty must also resolve to overcome hardships and increasingly manifest imperial virtue—so he admonished, pouring forth both a father’s great love and a subject’s devotion.

As for deliberating on adjustments and actively exhausting loyal counsel—this is the duty of Youzhi, Yi, and Yun. I humbly entreat Your Majesty to entrust your servant with achieving success in punishing the traitors and reviving [the Han]. If there is no success, then punish my crimes and report them to the spirit of the Late Emperor. If there is no advice to promote virtue, then hold Youzhi, Yi, and Yun accountable for their wisdom and let their negligence be exposed. Your Majesty must also personally devise plans to consult on virtuous paths, discern and accept noble words, and deeply follow the Late Emperor’s edict. I, your subject, overwhelmed by gratitude for the kindness received, must now depart far away. Facing the memorial, he shed tears, not knowing what to say.

The full text of the Memorial ended here. He likely closed his eyes for a long while in reverence to the Late Emperor Xuande's behest the moment he laid down his brush, exactly as written. And he must have reaffirmed that oath once more. At this time, he was forty-seven years old, in the Jianxing 5th Year of Shu.

4.

Kongming exited the gate. After a long period of seclusion, when he attended morning court, he immediately prostrated himself beneath the palace steps and presented the Chu Shi Biao (Memorial on the Expedition).

Emperor Liu Shan looked at the memorial,

“Fatherly Chancellor—it has been barely over a year since you pacified the south and returned.” “Yet now, to embark on a military campaign even greater than before—no matter how one looks at it, is this not too much for your health?” “Fatherly Chancellor, you are already nearing fifty years of age. For the sake of the state, please take some leisure and nurture yourself.”

he said sincerely.

Kongming was moved to tears. "I am deeply grateful for Your Majesty's concern. Yet since receiving the Late Emperor's edict entrusting me with his orphaned cause, this humble subject's modest resolve has been thus: until I fulfill that charge, I find no rest even in sleep, nor can I truly savor leisure when granted it. Though my body remains free of ailment and my years have not yet reached fifty, if I neglect this duty now, age will soon render me incapable of expressing even this meager loyalty—no matter how fervently I may wish otherwise." "Please do not trouble Your Majesty's thoughts over this," he offered nothing but reassurances before withdrawing for the time being.

However, Kongming’s “decisive execution of the Northern Expedition,” proclaimed through the *Chu Shi Biao* (Memorial on the Expedition), did not stop at causing concern for Emperor Liu Shan alone—it suddenly instilled great unease throughout the Shu court. For the land of Shu Han, since its governance under the Late Emperor Xuande, had had too brief a history as a state, and through years of consecutive military campaigns, had yet to accumulate sufficient strength internally to oppose the might of Wei and Wu. The year before last, just the resources and personnel expended for that southern pacification campaign alone had, in truth, even caused the domestic and financial officials to privately—

(This is unbearable. What will become of us?) To such an extent had they been anxiously watching, weighing this against the exhaustion of the national treasury. Fortunately, this had been compensated for by the great victory of the expeditionary force, and they had managed to greatly invigorate the national strength through the influx of vast southern tributes such as farm oxen, warhorses, gold, silver, and rhinoceros horns—yet even that had only been a year and a half since. “At this juncture, to entertain such grand ambitions as attacking Wei once more would be nothing short of a reckless act.”

Such discussions were intensely stirring within the Shu court. Since it stemmed from Chancellor Kongming’s resolute determination, none dared openly oppose the Chu Shi Biao (Memorial on the Expedition); however,

“It’s an army with no chance of victory,” said some, while others— “If it were a matter of unavoidably defending against their invasion, that would be one thing, but Wei has now lost Cao Pi, and with the young Cao Rui having ascended, they show no inclination to provoke foreign conflicts. To initiate an expedition against them now defies comprehension.” Such passive arguments were quite pronounced surrounding Emperor Liu Shan.

The primary concern of those people was the shortage of troops and the securing of funds required to conduct the war. According to Shu’s household registers, when comparing the number of households in Shu, Wei, and Wu, Shu had only one-third of Wei’s and half of Wu’s. Furthermore, in terms of population density, only slightly more than one-fifth of Wei’s and about one-third of Wu’s people resided there. Thus, it became clear how Shu’s development and its terrain, while advantageous for defense, tended to lag culturally; moreover, the number of its standing armored troops was incomparably meager when measured against the two states of Wei and Wu, which held the Central Plains.

Moreover, Emperor Liu Shan had already been on the throne for four years and was now twenty-one years old, yet he could not be called a wise ruler by any measure. He lacked his father Emperor Xuande’s great talent and, above all, had been raised without ever knowing hardship. “Surely even you, Chancellor, are not ignorant of these conditions—what possible reasoning compels you to launch such a grand military campaign now?” Though all submitted to Kongming’s authority, they still yearned to grasp his true intentions.

5

Those who truly understood knew.

This must have been what lay in Kongming's heart. Yet when Grand Historian Qiao Zhou visited him privately one night—seeming to voice the collective unease of Shu's officials through subtle admonitions—Kongming's counsel brimmed with profound sincerity.

“Now is the time,” he declared. “If we do not strike Northern Wei now, there will never be another opportunity. Wei was originally blessed with a land of heaven’s bounty—fertile soil and robust men and horses. From Cao Cao’s time through three generations there, they have at last established the form of a great nation. If we do not strike them swiftly, not only will it become utterly impossible to overthrow them, but our Shu will have no choice but to self-destruct.”

First, he expounded on heaven’s timing; then, proceeding to discuss domestic preparedness, “Indeed, our Shu remains small and weak.” “Among the Thirteen Provinces of the realm, Shu fully controls only Yi Province—in territorial terms, we cannot compare to Wei or Wu.” “Thus, troop shortages and inferior military provisions are inevitable.” “Yet I implore you to set your mind at ease.” “We retain certain strategic advantages.” He summoned the register and for the first time disclosed the existence of a secret reserve force previously unknown to all. This comprised ronin troops maintained with stipends beyond our borders since the Jing Province era, alongside foreign regiments gathered from southern frontiers and distant lands—units Zhao Yun, Ma Zhong, and others had drilled intensively throughout the past year. These forces had been organized into five specialized divisions: Repeating Crossbow, Explosive Mine, Flying Spear, Heavenly Cavalry, and Engineering Corps—each rigorously trained for mobile warfare. He concluded by explaining how this unforeseen element would disrupt enemy strategies.

Furthermore, regarding financial resources: “The grand ambition of the Northern Expedition is by no means a sudden notion conceived today; it has been a plan since this unworthy one received the Late Emperor’s sacred entrustment. As for myself, I have long maintained that the foundation of our strength lies foremost in agriculture. By establishing the offices of Grand Minister of Agriculture and Agricultural Supervisors and devoting myself to promoting agricultural production, the farmlands of Shu still retain ample surplus despite years of military campaigns. Moreover, in addition to land taxes and household levies, for several years now I have nationalized 'salt' and 'iron.' The natural salt and iron of our Shu may truly be called heaven-sent blessings. Through this national economy, Shu has secured the resources for the day it advances into the Central Plains.”

He reflected deeply on the hardships he had endured during that time. As one example of how meticulously he had prepared for the nation’s economy in his daily governance: he had women and girls in Chengdu and rural areas hand-weave Shu brocade, and in recent years particularly encouraged its increased production for export not only to the southern barbarians and western Liang tribes but also—with significant concessions granted exclusively for Shu brocade—to enemy states Wei and Wu, while aggressively seeking vital substitute materials within Shu’s borders. This fact alone reveals the depth of his painstaking management.

Upon hearing such painstaking efforts, preparations, and thorough explanations, Qiao Zhou—who had come to admonish—could do nothing but depart without another word. As a result, not only did the anxieties and opposition within the Shu court fall silent, but conversely, "If the Chancellor has made such thorough preparations, victory is certain." "No—victory is assured," they proclaimed, as an air of excessive optimism began permeating the court—a conviction that the golden age of unification under heaven, like the Han dynasty of old, would soon be effortlessly restored upon their return to the Central Plains' former capital.

Little did they know—while people optimistically dreamed of careless victory through reckless enthusiasm, a solemn resolve had been forged in Kongming's heart. He harbored no expectations of success; he understood Wei's might better than any other. Precisely because of this, he believed: "After I am gone, who will uphold Shu's court? Without me, there will be no Shu." His sole thought was that he must fulfill the sacred trust received from the Late Emperor Xuan De while life yet remained to him. Though he confided this in none, how profound must have been his desolation that Emperor Liu Shan's nature showed so little resemblance to his father's.

Moreover, Wei remained rich in talent from Cao Cao’s time to that very day. There was no shortage of administrative geniuses and military titans. In contrast, Shu had no generals like Guan Yu and Zhang Fei, its emperor was young, and its court officials were largely mediocre. These factors too served to deepen the anguish in Kongming’s heart. Moreover, he did not deem Shu’s grand ideal unattainable. He did not deem Xuan De’s posthumous edict impossible. The Chu Shi Biao (Memorial on the Expedition), spanning over a thousand characters, contained not a single resentful phrase, even in passing. Not even a hint of ulterior motive could be detected beneath its words.

6

The preparations of the three armies were completed. During this period, though there had been somewhat complex developments within Shu’s palace, the preparations had been carried out so swiftly and covertly that almost no information had yet leaked beyond their borders.

In the third month of spring, on the day of Bingyin, the order was finally given to depart.

“I shall now depart on the campaign.”

On the morning when Kongming came to court for the final farewell, Emperor Liu Shan’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Chancellor-Father. Take care of yourself,” he said earnestly.

Even as he gazed upon Liu Shan’s form, the image of the Late Emperor Xuan De remained ever-present in Kongming’s mind. Behind Liu Shan, he always envisioned that man standing there.

“Do not trouble yourself. Even if Kongming were to remain absent for five or ten years, by Your Majesty’s side are such loyal individuals—all endowed with abundant talent—who will assist in both internal and external affairs…” Kongming shifted his gaze to the left and right of the throne as he addressed it. Truly, his sole concern lay not in the campaign ahead but only in anxiety over Liu Shan’s assistance and internal governance that he would leave behind. For this purpose, he had implemented personnel changes through bold decisions during these recent days.

He had appointed the three senior ministers—Guo Youzhi, Dong Yun, and Fei Yi—as Palace Attendants and entrusted them with all governance of the palace. Moreover, for command of the Imperial Forest Army, he had designated Shang Chong as Commander of the Imperial Guards and charged him with utmost vigilance over home front defenses. Furthermore, he had delegated all duties of the Chancellor’s office—to act in his stead—to Chang Yi by appointing him Chief Clerk; installed Du Qiong as Grandee Remonstrator; assigned Du Wei and Yang Hong as Secretaries; named Meng Guang and Lai Min Masters of Ceremonies; appointed Yin Mo and Li Zhuan Erudites; and established Qiao Zhou as Grand Historian. All others whom his discerning judgment deemed sufficiently capable and trustworthy were deployed across both civil and military institutions, thereby securing complete preparedness for the home front.

Now, as he surveyed those surrounding the Emperor, it was to convey through his calm eyes to the supporting officials: I earnestly entrust this to you—and with these heartfelt words, he made his farewell. And when the day finally came to depart Chengdu, the Later Ruler Liu Shan exited the palace gates and saw him off as far as the city gates.

The spring wind blew the flags of the three armies. Gathered in formation before the Chancellor’s residence, when one observed the military organization of soldiers and horses flowing in glittering iron armor, they appeared in the following order. Former Supervisor of the Northern Garrison, General Who Guards the North, Concurrently Chancellor’s Army Advisor: Wei Yan Vanguard Commander and Governor of Fufeng: Zhang Yi Yamen General and Assistant General: Wang Ping Rear Army Commanding Officer: Lü Yi

Left Army Commanding Officer Concurrently Managing Supply Transportation: Ma Dai Vice-General and Feiwei General: Liao Hua Right Army Commanding Officer and General Who Inspires Valor: Ma Zhong General Who Pacifies the Barbarians and Marquis Within the Passes: Zhang Ni Acting Central Army Advisor and General of Chariots and Cavalry: Liu Yan General of the Central Army and General Who Uplifts Martial Might: Deng Zhi Central Army Advisor and General Who Pacifies Distant Lands: Ma Su General of the Vanguard and Marquis of Duting: Yuan Lin General of the Left and Marquis of Gaoyang: Wu Yi

General of the Right and Marquis of Xuandu: Gao Xiang General of the Rear and Marquis of Anle: Wu Ban Chief Clerk and General Who Pacifies the Army: Yang Yi General of the Vanguard and General Who Conquers the South: Liu Ba

Former Protector-General and Partial General: Xu Yun Left Protector-General and Trusted Colonel-General: Ding Xian Right Protector-General and Partial General: Liu Min Rear Protector-General and Rising Army Colonel-General: Guan Yong Acting Army Advisor and Brilliant Martial Colonel-General: Hu Ji

Acting Army Advisor and Grandee Remonstrator General: Yan Yan Acting Army Advisor and Assistant General: Du Yi

Military Strategy Colonel-General: Du Qi Pacification Commandant: Sheng Bo Colonel-General Engaged in Military Strategy: Fan Qi Army Custodian Secretary: Fan Jian Chancellor’s Clerk: Dong Jue Left Guard Envoy of the Headquarters Tent and Dragon-Soaring General: Guan Xing Right Guard Envoy and Tiger-Wing General: Zhang Bao Among them, one indispensable general had been omitted. That was Zhao Yun Zilong of Changshan—a meritorious retainer since the time of Liu Bei.

Seven On this day, Zhao Yun’s heroic figure was absent from the expeditionary forces for this very reason. The illustrious hero since the Battle of Changban Bridge had at last grown old, his temples now streaked with white. Kongming, recalling how he had fought valiantly throughout the Southern Campaign despite his aged body, had deliberately excluded him from the military organization this time, intending to leave him behind to guard the home front.

However, Zhao Yun not only failed to appreciate this kindness but also, the moment he saw the announcement of the military organization, “Why is my name not among them?” “Outrageous!”

And so he went to the Chancellor’s residence and pressed his case face-to-face with Kongming. “It is awkward for me to say this myself, but I am Zhao Zilong—since the time of the Late Emperor, I have never retreated when facing battle formations nor failed to charge ahead when encountering the enemy.” “Though I may be old, I do not intend to lose to the youngsters these days.” “Born a true man, to die on the battlefield is the greatest happiness one could ask for.” “Chancellor, do you intend to let Zhao Yun—who speaks thus—wither away like a dead tree in his twilight years?”

Even Zhuge Liang found this exasperating. "If you insist on stopping me," he declared, "then right here and now, I will cut off my own head and perish!" "If you wish it so fervently, I shall not stand in your way. However, you must take along a deputy general of my choosing." “I have no objection to taking a deputy general. “And who might that be?” “Deng Zhi of the Central Inspection Army.”

“If it’s Deng Zhi...” Zhao Yun rejoiced. Zhuge Liang accordingly revised part of the military organization, granting Zhao Yun and Deng Zhi five thousand elite troops while separately assigning them ten battle commanders to form the Grand Vanguard Army, which he had depart from Chengdu one day before the main army’s mobilization. This being Chengdu’s first instance of dispatching such a massive force beyond its borders, citizens suspended their work to joyously send off the troops that day. Even Emperor Liu Shan—who had initially intended only to bid farewell at the city gates—lingered regretfully and ultimately accompanied by his hundred officials, saw them off ten *li* beyond the North Gate.

By now, the three armies had left Chengdu’s city streets and were approaching the outskirts. Yet even here in the suburbs, the rural folk—old and young alike—emerged with baskets of food and jars of drink to welcome the royal army’s march. Along the village roadsides, in the fields and along the ridges of paddies, they sat upon the earth and bowed in reverence to Kongming’s four-wheeled chariot. Village maidens drew sweet millet water for the soldiers, while old women made mugwort cakes to offer. Kongming gazed pensively.

"Here, there were no lingering concerns whatsoever."

×　　　　　×　　　　　×

Wei was struck by a great shock. This was because they recognized that Shu’s expeditionary force appeared to be mobilizing their entire nation. Moreover, Kongming’s name had now become one that, even for Wei, merely hearing it was enough to send shivers down their spines. “Who can stop him?”

Emperor Cao Rui of Wei posed a question to his assembled ministers. The hall filled with Wei ministers fell completely silent.

At that moment, one man stepped forward, declaring, “I humbly request to take on this task.” Everyone’s eyes focused on him, and they widened in surprise at the sight, exclaiming, “Ah! So this is the son of Xiahou Yuan!” He was Xiahou Mao, style name Zixiu—General Who Pacifies the West and Guards the East, concurrently holding the positions of Imperial Secretary and Commandant of Consorts. His father had been a meritorious vassal of Emperor Wu Cao Cao, falling in battle at Hanzhong—the very region to which the Shu army now advanced. “On that grudge-filled battlefield,” Xiahou Mao now declared, “to console my father’s spirit and repay our nation—this is a son’s sacred duty.” After his father’s death, he had been raised from childhood by his uncle Xiahou Dun. Later, Cao Cao—taking pity on him—had wed him to one of his own daughters, earning him widespread respect. Yet as time revealed his true nature—an impulsive temperament coupled with miserly tendencies—he had garnered little esteem within Wei’s military ranks.

However, given that his position and high office made him sufficiently qualified to serve as a great general, the assembly raised no objections. Emperor Rui, deeming his resolve heroic, granted him the seal and tassel along with 200,000 cavalry from Guanxi to crush Kongming.