Pathway to Japanese Literature

1 Though neither ally nor foe seemed aware of it, just as Fancheng's complete capture stood on the very brink of becoming a matter of time, a subtle transformation had taken root within Guan Yu's forces. Having shattered the seven armies sent as urgent reinforcements from Wei's heartland while simultaneously pressing against Fancheng's walls to completely subdue its final resistance, at the very moment they should have delivered the decisive blow, even Guan Yu's troops—until then maintaining their signature momentum like a splitting bamboo—now seemed to falter in their initial advance.

The reason for this was known only to Guan Ping and a mere handful of staff officers.

Even now, Guan Ping, Wang Fu, and other generals were gathered with furrowed brows, "...No matter what... This is a matter affecting the entire army’s survival—it cannot be left neglected." “Though it may require enduring temporary bitterness, I believe it would be better to withdraw the army to Jing Province once, ensure full preparedness, and begin anew—” “...This is truly a troubling predicament.”

They exchanged whispers with deep solemnity.

At that moment, a staff officer came running hurriedly from the inner chambers of the camp, “This is General Yu’s command: ‘Commence an all-out attack from dawn tomorrow. By all means, Fancheng must be occupied within the day.’” “He himself will take the field.” “Convey His Excellency’s orders to every camp and unit. Let there be no negligence—such is his decree.”

With that, he delivered the message. “What?! His Excellency is launching the all-out attack and taking to the battlefield?!”

The generals exchanged stunned glances, their silent consensus declaring this a crisis of utmost gravity, and they all proceeded to a secluded chamber deep within the camp's inner quarters,

“How is your condition today?”

With that, they timidly peered into the tent's interior. Guan Yu was seated in his seat. His features were gaunt, his complexion pallid, with bluish-black shadows of fatigue lingering in the hollows of his eyes—yet his voice showed not the slightest alteration from its usual tone. “Ah, it’s nothing serious. You’ve all gathered here—what is the matter?” “We have just received Your Excellency’s command, but all of us—already deeply concerned for your ailing condition—were taken aback by its suddenness. Thus, we have come to advise that you rest a while longer before taking action.”

“Hahaha.” “Are you worried about my arrow wound? — Do not trouble yourselves.” “How could Guan Yu yield to a mere scratch of this measure?” “And how could I abandon the affairs of the realm?” “Tomorrow I shall drive my steed to the vanguard and will not cease until I have ground Fancheng to dust!”

Wang Fu edged forward on his knees, “Witnessing your vigor has strengthened our resolve, but no hero, however mighty, can prevail against illness. From my recent observations of your condition: you have had no appetite morning or night, day by day your complexion grows more pallid, and particularly when hearing your groans during sleep, I fearfully surmise you must be enduring considerable suffering. I beseech you—as you are irreplaceable to Shu and vital to our grand future designs—to once withdraw to Jing Province and devote yourself to thorough recuperation…………For should any misfortune now befall Your Excellency’s person, it would not merely devastate Jing Province’s forces but become a grievous loss for all of Shu.”

“…………”

Guan Yu, who had been listening in silence, slowly shifted his posture and cut off Wang Fu’s words. “Wang Fu. Wang Fu. “Neither Guan Ping nor the rest of you need waste time or trouble your hearts over this. “My life has already been dedicated to Shu. “A warrior’s life is known only to Heaven. “If word spread that Guan Yu retreated to Jing Province after failing to capture even Fancheng—my martial reputation aside—it would tarnish Shu’s prestige. What is one arrow’s wound? “Do you think I wouldn’t take ten or a hundred arrows on the battlefield? “Be silent and obey my command.”

The people withdrew without a word, yet their anxiety only deepened.

That night, Guan Yu again developed a raging fever and writhed in agony until dawn. The wound on his left arm—inflicted by Pang De’s arrow—burned like vengeful fire. It seemed the arrowhead still carried the dead warrior’s unyielding will. Thus did the planned all-out assault dissolve into nothingness.

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

Just then, a wandering physician who came like the wind appeared here, accompanied by a single boy attendant, having drifted ashore from the land of Wu in a small boat. He was a physician from Pei Commandery’s Qiao County named Hua Tuo.

II A general from the riverbank surveillance unit brought Hua Tuo and arrived at Guan Ping’s quarters.

“This wandering physician claims to have come from the land of Wu. Given that you have been seeking physicians throughout the provinces of late, I thought he might be of service and thus brought him here.”

Guan Ping, delighted, welcomed him into his own tent regardless and first inquired politely. “What is your esteemed name, sir?” “Hua Tuo, styled Yuanhua.” “Ah, so you are the renowned physician I’ve heard healed the wounds of Wu’s general Zhou Tai.” “Having long admired the righteous hero of the realm, upon hearing that he now suffers from a poisoned arrow, I have piloted my boat from afar to rush here.” “My father is the Great General of Shu. You, sir, are a physician of Wu—what reason could you have for journeying all this way?”

“Medicine has no borders. I serve only benevolence.” “Ah! Then please examine my father’s poisoned wound at once.”

Accompanied by Hua Tuo, he went to his father’s tent.

At that very moment, Guan Yu was playing Go with Ma Liang. His mouth was parched from the raging fever as though filled with thorns, and his wound throbbed with such ferocity that it sometimes made his entire body tremble—yet his indomitable spirit suppressed these afflictions, allowing him to distract himself with Go so calmly that others saw nothing amiss.

“Father. Wu’s renowned physician Hua Tuo has come all this way. How about having your wound treated?” “Hmm. Hmm. ……Wait, wait. Ma Liang—is it my turn now?” While baring his garments, Guan Yu entrusted his afflicted arm to the physician’s care, yet with his right hand continued placing stones upon the Go board. “How about it, Ma Liang? Even a master would struggle here.” “What… That single stone will soon become nothing but Ma Liang’s favorite prey.”

Both were so engrossed in their Go game that they did not even glance at Hua Tuo.—But Hua Tuo stepped behind Guan Yu, rolled up the sleeve of his undergarment, and intently examined the wound on his arm.

The attending ministers all widened their eyes. The wound was swollen to the size of a ripe quince fruit. Hua Tuo let out a sigh. “This is due to a poison called aconite having been applied to the arrowhead; its virulent toxin has already penetrated to the bone marrow. Had you left it untreated a little longer, your arm would have become useless.”

Guan Yu turned to look at Hua Tuo’s face for the first time and asked, “Is there a way to cure it now?” Hua Tuo declared confidently, “There is a way—but I fear you may recoil in shock.” “Ha ha ha! A great man who does not even fear death would not be startled by something like being handled by a physician’s hands,” he said. “Heal it as you see fit.” Entrusting his arm to Hua Tuo’s care, he devoted himself once more to the game on the board.

Hua Tuo brought his medicine bag closer and took out two iron rings from within. He fastened one ring to a pillar and inserted Guan Yu’s arm into the other, preparing to bind it securely with rope. Guan Yu looked at his arm as though about to comment on this peculiar setup, “Hua Tuo—what exactly do you intend to do?” he inquired. Hua Tuo replied, “Using a surgical blade, I will cut through the flesh, extract the arm bone, and meticulously scrape away all portions corroded by aconite poison along with the discolored bone matter.” “No patient has ever remained conscious through such a procedure.” “However mighty a general you may be, you will inevitably thrash in torment. Thus I must beg your forbearance to stay motionless for a time.”

“I thought it was something grave—and this is all your preparation amounts to?” “It is nothing serious. Treat me as you see fit.”

He removed the iron rings and requested the surgery proceed as it was.

Hua Tuo began incising the wound. Blood overflowed into the silver basin positioned beneath, coating both his hands and scalpel in gore. He then scraped at the arm bone with a sharp blade—grating, grinding. Guan Yu never once looked away from the Go board, though those surrounding him—Guan Ping and the ministers—had gone deathly pale; some even rose from their seats, unable to endure the sight as they turned their faces away. When the procedure concluded at last, he cleansed the wound with wine and sutured it with thread. Oily sweat now glistened on Hua Tuo's brow.

The Jianye Council

I

After finishing the surgery and withdrawing, Hua Tuo came anew the next day to check on Guan Yu's condition.

“General.” “How did you fare last night?”

“No, I slept soundly through the night.” “When I awoke this morning, I found I’d even forgotten the pain.” “You are truly the realm’s greatest physician!” “No—though this physician has treated many patients to this day, never have I encountered one such as you, General.” “You are truly the realm’s greatest patient.”

“Ha ha ha! The finest physician and the finest patient, eh? Then the root of the ailment will not stand its ground. What should I do for post-treatment care?” “You must avoid anger. Venting your fury is strictly forbidden.” “I am in your debt. I shall observe them well.” Guan Yu wrapped a hundred gold pieces and presented them to Hua Tuo. Hua Tuo did not so much as touch it. “A great physician heals nations; a benevolent physician heals men. Since I lack the divine power to mend kingdoms, I wished at least to tend your noble form—this is why I journeyed afar. I did not come seeking profit.”

Lightly boarding a small boat once more, he drifted away upon the river.

At that time, with the Wei royal palace at the center, the administrative offices of Xudu and Yedu were battling an unusual panic.

Couriers, yet more couriers. All of them relayed news of the defeat in the Fanchuan region—the annihilation of the Seven Armies, Pang De’s death in battle, Yu Jin’s surrender—which had leaked throughout the realm. Even commoners were thrown into turmoil from top to bottom, already fearing an invasion by Guan Yu’s forces, with some peasants fleeing in disarray.

At the Wei royal palace, yet another grand council was convened today regarding the matter. Even at this council, those who trembled at Guan Yu’s name had already begun clamoring for the relocation of the Wei royal palace, but Sima Yi Zhongda rose to argue against it as unfeasible,

“In essence, this great defeat stemmed not from Wei’s military weakness, but from the floodwaters favoring Guan Yu.” “The one who least desires Guan Yu’s unchecked expansion is Sun Quan of Wu.” “If we persuade Wu to attack Guan Yu from behind, Sun Quan will assuredly answer our call!” he thundered.

Alongside Sima Yi Zhongda, Jiang Ji, who served as Secretary of the Chancellor’s Office, lamented: “Though Yu Jin and I had been friends for thirty years, who could have foreseen that at this critical hour, he would prove inferior even to Pang De? I believe the strategy Zhongda proposed is golden counsel. We must dispatch an urgent envoy to Wu without delay and unite to erase this great humiliation.”

Cao Cao had been considering this matter, but he feared that merely dispatching eloquent envoys might fail to move Wu to action. He resolved to first demonstrate Wei's commitment by confronting adversity directly, only then attempting to persuade Wu through diplomacy. It was precisely for this purpose that Xu Huang had been selected as general-in-chief, granted fifty thousand troops, and ordered to conduct a forced march to Yanglingpo for deployment. (Once Wu's cooperation is secured, immediately strike Guan Yu's forces)

Xu Huang's army waited there poised with lethal intent, maintaining a stance of perfect readiness. Wei’s urgent envoy had arrived at Jianye, Wu’s capital—for Wu’s stance alone would determine the realm’s future—and now employed every diplomatic maneuver and covert scheme while awaiting a favorable response. The council within Jianye Castle remained deadlocked. For Wu too, this marked a critical crossroads. Moreover, Wu had been secretly observing Wei’s recent distractions and now contemplated whether this might be the opportune moment to seize Xuzhou north of the Yangtze. Yet the terms Cao Cao had privately proposed were also highly advantageous.

(Should we attack Guan Yu and seize Jing Province? (Should we reject Wei’s demands and seize Xuzhou?)

There lay a great indecision.

At that moment, Lü Meng, who had been defending upstream Lukou, suddenly returned to the homeland. He stated that he had perceived the urgency of the times and returned to present a grand stratagem.

Sun Quan summoned him and immediately inquired.

“You.” “What strategy do you propose?” “In that case,” “Now is the time for our Wu to leverage the heaven-given advantage of the Yangtze, seize Jing Province, and establish an eternal frontier against the invasions of Shu and Wei.” “By establishing our frontier at the strategic points of the upper Yangtze and maintaining strong steeds and elite troops within, opportunities to seize places like Xuzhou will surely arise again in due time.” Lü Meng elaborated on his strategy, evidently still harboring an unshakable conviction in its inevitable success.

II

Lü Meng’s statement possessed sufficient force to guide the council’s policy. For the area he was defending—Lukou (upstream of Hankou)—was a crucial region where the interests of the three kingdoms of Wei, Shu, and Wu converged. 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 talent. "Now that the grand strategy has been decided, I entrust all local matters to your discretion." "Handle matters as you deem fit."

Sun Quan added afterward. Thus during this period, both Wu’s stance toward Wei and their overarching strategy for the current crisis were decisively settled. Lü Meng returned once more by fast ship to Lukou. Immediately dispatching covert agents to investigate the Jing Province front, they discovered unexpectedly robust defenses. The reason was this: Beacon towers had been constructed at key coastal positions every twenty or thirty li. Should any disturbance occur at the border with Wu, these “relay beacons” would instantly alert Jing Province’s main fortress of the emergency. An orderly system existed for mobilizing reinforcements and perfecting defensive networks—a mechanism so thorough that not a drop of water could leak through.

Because of Guan Yu’s unexpected vigilance, Lü Meng clicked his tongue loudly upon discovering this,

“This won’t do,” he declared, and from that day onward began feigning illness—pretending even to his own allies that he was tormented by the resurgence of an old malady and had recently withdrawn into seclusion. Not only were the Lukou troops who should have been mobilizing still inactive, but Lü Meng had fallen ill and refused to show his face to anyone—rumors that greatly worried Sun Quan in Jianye. “At this critical juncture?!” he exclaimed in agitation, turning to Lu Xun of Wu Commandery. “With all haste, proceed to Lukou and assess Lü Meng’s condition.”

Sun Quan commanded. Lu Xun received the command and, “There is no need for concern—it is likely that Lü Meng’s illness is feigned.”

With that, he departed. He had already seen through Lü Meng’s intentions.

However, upon arriving at Lukou, Lü Meng had indeed closed himself in his sickroom.

The camp lay silent, its officers and soldiers sunk in gloom. Lu Xun met Lü Meng and said with a smirk, “General. “Please rise from your sickbed now.” “I shall cure your ailment forthwith.” “Lu Xun-dono. “Have you come here to mock a sick man?” “No, by the lord’s command, I have come to examine Your Excellency.” “Though I am unworthy, when you came to Jianye earlier, General, I had already discerned your intentions.” “After returning to the front, you immediately betrayed Lord Wu’s expectations by suddenly falling ill—I presume this was because Jing Province’s defenses were entirely contrary to your predictions, General?”

Lü Meng rose heavily and suddenly looked around his surroundings. “Lu Xun,” he said. “Speak quietly, I implore you. We mustn’t have anyone listening outside the tent.” “All is secure,” Lu Xun replied. “I have also dismissed the guards. While Guan Yu of Jing Province battles at Fancheng on one front, he shows not the slightest negligence at the border with Wu. Rather, he has likely reinforced his defensive forces beyond peacetime levels. And he must have already completed construction of the beacon towers at various key points.” He paused before concluding: “Your Excellency Lü Meng’s ailment lies precisely there—but have I erred in my diagnosis?”

“Hmm…” “Truly, your discernment is peerless. I am in awe.” “In truth, it is exactly as you say.” “Then why don’t we declare that your condition has gravely worsened and return together to Jianye?” “This will perfectly create the appearance that I’ve come to retrieve a patient.” “And then?” “And then?”

“Though Your Excellency must already hold this in your heart, in essence, Guan Yu remains vigilant precisely because a general of your caliber—renowned as Wu’s foremost—is stationed at the Lukou border, watching like a tiger poised to strike. If Your Excellency feigns illness, resigns your post, replaces yourself with an unknown general, and acts as though trembling at Jing Province’s every breath, Guan Yu’s arrogance will swell until he inevitably redirects the troops here toward Fancheng.—Wouldn’t that be the perfect moment for Wu’s grand advance?”

Lü Meng and Lu Xun

1 Lu Xun was more than ten years younger than Lü Meng. At the time, he remained stationed in a local area of Wu Commandery, his renown low and rank still at mid-level officer. But his talent was something Lord Wu had long cherished, and Lü Meng observed him even more deeply, keeping a watchful eye on his future. The two boarded the same ship and returned to Jianye in Wu, where they met with Sun Quan, Lord of Wu, and provided a detailed report on Jing Province's actual state. Lü Meng also explained that his feigned illness had been merely a temporary stratagem against the enemy and apologized for troubling his lord's mind.

“Taking this opportunity, I implore you to appoint another to defend Lukou. So long as I remain here, Guan Yu will never lower his guard.” “If this follows your stratagem, now proves most opportune for you to resign citing illness. Yet Lukou remains Wu’s vital territory—whom else could I possibly appoint?” “Lu Xun would serve well. I deem none more suited than him.” “Lu Xun?...” Sun Quan’s countenance darkened with doubt as he—

“Long ago, 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 commanders, you ought to recommend someone of greater renown, talent, virtue, and strategic foresight.” “Therefore, I humbly submit that Lu Xun is the one who combines those qualities.” “However, what Lu Xun lacks—status, renown, age—are precisely his advantages, for his name remains unknown both within and beyond our borders. Were a general of greater repute and ability than Lu Xun to replace me, we could never deceive Guan Yu.”

Not long after such private discussions between Lord Wu and him, Lu Xun was suddenly promoted to Lieutenant General and Right Commander. And immediately, he was ordered to assume his post at Lukou, to the astonishment of everyone—especially himself. “I am but an unworthy youth,” “utterly unfit to succeed Your Excellency Meng in such a weighty responsibility.” “I would surely disgrace my office and tarnish your noble command.” “I beg you to appoint another senior officer instead.” Though Lu Xun declined repeatedly, Sun Quan refused his pleas, instead bestowing upon him a horse, two bolts of brocade, and fine wines with delicacies,

“Proceed at once,” he said, giving him parting gifts.

With no alternative, Lu Xun assumed his post. Upon arriving at his post, he immediately attached a letter to gifts and dispatched an envoy to Guan Yu’s camp,

He conveyed a greeting as the new appointee: “I look forward to your continued support.” Before the envoy, Guan Yu laughed heartily—“Lü Meng has fallen ill! Now they’ve set some callow youth to guard Lukou! The time is ripe!”

From that point onward, the defense of Jing Province was secure. Exulting in private delight, he reportedly laughed repeatedly with satisfaction. When Lu Xun heard from the returned envoy's own lips about this scene, he too— "Splendid, splendid." "Perfect," he rejoiced without measure. Thereafter, as Lu Xun deliberately neglected military affairs while intently observing Guan Yu's movements, it became evident that Guan Yu—now finally healed of his arm's arrow wound—had begun concentrating on capturing the impregnable Fancheng, discreetly diverting troops from the Lukou front toward Fancheng in gradual redeployment.

"The time has come," Lu Xun urgently reported the news to Jianye. Sun Quan, upon receiving this report, immediately summoned Lü Meng.

“The moment has ripened.” “Join forces with Lu Xun and seize Jing Province.” “Depart immediately!”

Having issued this command, he specially assigned his younger brother Sun Hao as deputy general of the rear guard.

Thirty thousand elite soldiers boarded over eighty swift ships and warships in a single night. As for the generals participating in the campaign, 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 were entirely manned by those disguised as merchants, their decks piled high with goods like mountains. Hoisting their sails high, they sailed up the river half a day ahead.

Two Days later, Wu’s disguised fleet drifted to the northern bank of the Xunyang River (Jiujiang). It was a night of raging winds and waves in pitch-black darkness, but without a moment to lower their sails,

"Who goes there? Where are your ships from?" shouted a unit of soldiers who discovered them at once, whereupon seven representatives disembarking from the ships were taken directly to their military camp. The sentries all belonged to Guan Yu's command. At this Xiangshan stood the beacon tower in question, and along the overland route to Jing Province spanning several hundred li, identical defenses had been prepared across various peaks. The encampment lay at the foot of Beacon Fire Mountain. The seven representatives underwent rigorous interrogation. Though all were Wu military men without exception, through cunning words—

“We are but merchants who yearly load northern goods to sail southward, seek southern supplies to voyage northward, and traverse this river with the seasons like those in Jiayu here. In truth, as always, we intended to enter the Xunyang River on the opposite shore to bring our goods to the market the day after tomorrow, but unfortunately, due to these fierce waves and the wind direction, we simply could not approach that shore. Once dawn breaks, the wind direction will change, so we shall promptly withdraw. We humbly beseech your mercy to permit us to remain on this shore until dawn.”

After earnestly entreating him in unison, they took out fine southern wines and delicacies they had brought aboard their ships and first offered them as bribes to the sentry commander—whereupon the interrogation abruptly softened. “Very well—I’ll overlook this for now,” he said, “but this is a fortified zone with beacon towers. Move your ships to Xunyang at first light.”

“Yes, yes. That’s already…” The seven men clasped their hands together in unison, “We are deeply grateful for your kind words and will convey them thoroughly to the crew.” With that, one of them returned to the shore. Soon the man came back with over a dozen additional crew members. Carrying sake jugs and food in their hands, they expressed the crew’s gratitude and offered to present these items.

“Alright. Go on and take ’em.”

The sentry commander had already opened the wine he received earlier and was in a tipsy state. His subordinates quickly became drunk as well. The group that had come ashore from the ships even brought out hidden talents like barbarian songs and folk ballads to entertain them.

Before long, one of the sentries— “Hmm?” He pricked up his ears. “Wind?” “No, something’s wrong.” He rushed outside and looked up at the beacon tower. For there, he heard a sudden whirlwind of voices.

"Ah—" "Enemies!"

The moment he screamed, a contingent of mounted warriors had already surrounded them. The detachment had scaled up from the mountain’s rear and seized control of the beacon towers. When dawn broke, not only last night’s merchant vessels but over eighty warships now dominated the river’s expanse. Every Jing Province defender was captured alive wearing stupefied expressions.

“Do not panic. Do not fear. We will not take your lives. Rather, you are all promised great future promotions from this day forth, depending on your merits.”

Lü Meng, having landed and seen the captives, earnestly instructed them. Then, after bestowing valuables and demonstrating tangible preferential treatment, he selected from among them those deemed to be reliable defectors,

“Persuade the sentry commander guarding the next beacon tower,” Lü Meng commanded. “If you sway him and prove your worth, I shall raise your rank.” This stratagem bore fruit at every turn as Lü Meng’s vast forces advanced daily toward Jing Province. Having rendered useless the meticulously prepared “chain beacons” of their foes, they soon stormed the very walls of Jingzhou’s fortress.

Prior to this, Lü Meng had risked enormous rewards to have a group of defectors infiltrate under the city walls, spread rumors, and sow chaos among the enemy.

Meanwhile, another unit of defectors came beneath Jingzhou Castle's walls,

“Open the gate!” “There’s a crisis!” They shouted; those inside the castle, mistaking them for allies, opened the gates—whereupon they immediately ushered in the Wu army, which surged inside, set fires in all directions, and transformed this place too into a crucible of chaos.

Bamboo hat 1. Jing Province’s main stronghold fell all too easily. Guan Yu had treated his rear far too lightly. He had become obsessed solely with battlefields, leaving critical oversights in domestic governance and defensive preparations—a fatal flaw in his strategy. Overreliance on beacon tower defenses constituted one such lapse, but what proved most disastrous was his failure to secure capable guardians for the homeland. The general left in charge, Pan Jun, was mediocre at best, while Fu Shiren—defender of Gong’an—amounted to little more than a frivolous opportunist. Why would he leave such incompetents behind when marching on Fancheng? Because both commanders had erred before the campaign. To enforce discipline, Guan Yu had harshly rebuked them for their failures—punishing them not with formal penalties but by excluding them from his expeditionary force. For warriors of standing, being relegated to rear guard duty brought greater dishonor than suffering military punishment.

Had Pan Jun been a man of true mettle, this dishonor might have spurred him to greater resolve; but both Pan Jun and Fu Shiren privately nursed resentment, realizing that under Guan Yu’s command, their prospects for advancement were now hopeless—prompting them to weigh their options like merchants assessing business opportunities. And just as they were utterly neglecting both domestic governance and military readiness—without even the linked-beacon fires giving any warning—the grand army of Wu suddenly launched their assault. Looking at the outcome, one could say its fall was utterly inevitable.

I. Those who kill people without reason II. Those who steal goods without reason III. Those who spread rumors without reason End of regulations. Those who violate even a single article shall be sentenced to decapitation.

Commander-in-Chief of the Wu Army Lü Meng Immediately after the occupation, even before Marquis Sun Quan of Wu had entered the city, such notices had already been erected in every town, and the people all pledged allegiance. When the people of Jing Province 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 grateful they were!” they whispered Lü Meng’s name from mouth to mouth.

Day after day, Lü Meng toured the postwar conditions himself, accompanied by a retinue of five or six horsemen. One day, though caught in a sudden rain along the way, he continued his inspection undeterred by the downpour when he spotted a lone soldier in the distance—holding a bamboo hat meant for peasants, shielding his helmet with it—racing toward him at full speed. “Capture him! Seize that soldier and bring him here!” Lü Meng pointed his whip.

Two mounted warriors galloped through the rain and immediately dragged the soldier back. When he looked closer, the soldier turned out to be a man from Lü Meng’s own hometown—one whose face was familiar to him.

Lü Meng glared at the soldier and said:

“I have long held an oath to spare those who share my hometown and surname, but that was a private vow, not an official one,” Lü Meng said, glaring at the soldier. “You stole a peasant’s bamboo hat when caught in this sudden rain. Since you have violated one of the articles listed on the public notice, even if you are from my own hometown, I cannot allow the law to be disrupted. I will behead you and display your head in the streets—resign yourself to this.” The soldier was astonished and, wailing in the rain, prostrated himself before Lü Meng. “Spare my life, I beg you! It was a momentary lapse! I—I didn’t think much of it, sir! It was just a bamboo hat…”

He pleaded sorrowfully, but Lü Meng merely shook his head. "No, absolutely not." "I understand it was a momentary lapse; I also know it was merely a single bamboo hat." "But I cannot pardon this." "That is what upholding the rigor of the law demands." The soldier’s head and bamboo hat were displayed at the gibbet in the streets.

The townsfolk, having heard and spread word of the rumors,

“What a fair commander!” Moved by his virtue, the three armies of Wu trembled in awe and did not pick up even a single item lying on the roads.

Sun Quan, Marquis of Wu, who had been waiting on the river, entered the city leading his generals. He immediately met with the surrendering general Pan Jun, accepted his plea to incorporate him into the Wu army, and brought out Yu Jin—the captive Wei general who had been imprisoned— “Serve Wu,” he commanded as he had Yu Jin’s cangue removed and pardoned him.

Jing Province Transfiguration

1.

Wu achieved one of its great long-cherished ambitions here. Incorporating Jing Province into their territory had indeed been a decades-long aspiration since Liu Biao’s death. Sun Quan’s exultation and the Wu army’s collective triumph—one could well envision.

Lu Xun of Lukou also soon came here to extend congratulations. At that moment, among those seated, Lü Meng—

“We have taken Jing Province’s central administration,” Lü Meng said, “but this does not mean its entire territory lies fully within our grasp. Fu Shiren still holds Gong’an, while Mi Fang’s forces remain entrenched in Nanjun. Do you possess a viable stratagem to subdue them?” He posed this question to Lu Xun.

Then a man nearby immediately rose to his feet. "For this matter, there will be no need to draw bows or notch arrows," he declared boldly. When they turned to look, it was Yu Fan of Kuaiji Yuyao. Sun Quan regarded him with a faint smile, "Yu Fan, what stratagem do propose? Speak freely," he commanded. Yu Fan bowed respectfully,

“Therefore, this humble one and Fu Shiren have been friends since childhood. He will surely heed the advantages and disadvantages I lay out. Thus I harbor no doubt Gong’an can be occupied without bloodshed.”

“Interesting.” “Go and try to persuade him.” Sun Quan granted him five hundred cavalrymen. Yu Fan set out for Gong’an brimming with confidence. In truth, he believed wholeheartedly in the success of this mission. For he knew Fu Shiren’s usual character well.

However, as for Fu Shiren, he had been in a state of constant fear and trembling these days. He deepened the moat, closed the city gates, dispatched scouts, and remained vigilant. Just then, he heard that his friend Yu Fan was approaching with about five hundred cavalrymen. Still gripped by suspicion, he kept the city quiet. Yu Fan drew near to the castle gate, affixed a letter to an arrow, and shot it into the castle town. “What? An arrow-bound letter has fallen… Let me see—what does it say?”

Fu Shiren opened it and read through Yu Fan’s written appeal. He scrutinized the text over and over as if inspecting a flea, but his suspicions ultimately found no dubious phrases. "That’s right—even if I hold out here, once Guan Yu returns, I’ll be called to account for my pre-battle crimes. At best, my merits and crimes would cancel each other out. If we were surrounded by the Wu army and Guan Yu’s reinforcements failed to arrive in time, we would be completely destroyed here. Yu Fan’s arguments must undoubtedly be words that sincerely care for me."

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

“I’ve missed you,” he first invoked their past camaraderie, “I leave everything to you,” he then declared in full entrustment. “Since I have come forth myself, rest assured all matters are settled.” Yu Fan returned directly to Jing Province with him in tow. Sun Quan naturally accepted this outcome with evident delight. He lavished great rewards upon Yu Fan and informed Fu Shiren,

“Since I have seen your true heart, I shall make no distinction between you and my old retainers.” “Having returned to our fold, ensure you properly instruct your subordinates and make them pledge future loyalty to Wu.” With magnanimity he declared: “I permit you to remain as garrison commander of Gong’an as before.” As Fu Shiren expressed gratitude and turned to leave the city, Lü Meng tugged at the Marquis of Wu’s sleeve. “Does my lord mean to send him back thus unburdened?” “At this stage, I can hardly order his execution.” “To return him empty-handed would be tantamount to discarding a valuable asset.” “Why not entrust him with some mission...”

When Lü Meng whispered something to him, Sun Quan abruptly sent a retainer running to summon Fu Shiren back.

He immediately posed a question and issued another command. "You have close ties with Mi Fang of Nan Commandery." "Naturally—you were allies until yesterday." "Hah..." "I do have dealings with him, but..."

“Then it can be said that persuading Mi Fang through friendship is your duty.” “If you convince him and bring him before me, Mi Fang shall be richly employed, and you will receive additional rewards.” “How say you?” “I shall set out for Nandu at once.” Fu Shiren hurried back in disarray. Sun Quan glanced back at Lü Meng and smirked slyly.

Two

“I’ve been saddled with an incredibly difficult task.”

Fu Shiren, with a gloomy face, went to consult his friend Yu Fan. and in a grumbling tone, “Now that I look back, listening to your words feels like a grave mistake.” "The Marquis of Wu’s command—it’s an impossible task." "Persuading Mi Fang is impossible." “If I were to say I refuse, I’d immediately be accused of disloyalty and executed, and Gong’an Castle would be taken without a fight.… But then again, Mi Fang is no ordinary officer in Shu—he’s been a veteran general since Liu Bei’s humble uprising.” “With my silver tongue, he wouldn’t just shamelessly surrender,”

When Fu Shiren voiced his perplexity, Yu Fan laughed at his timidity and gave his back a single pat.

“Hey! Pull yourself together.” “Isn’t this the critical juncture of your own rise and fall?” “Even Mi Fang isn’t an unfeeling statue.” “No—his family were originally wealthy merchants from Hubei.” “It happened that this bored magnate took interest in Liu Bei’s ventures—that man of destiny—and secretly funded his campaigns from the shadows. That’s how both Mi brothers, Zhu and Fang, ended up joining Liu Bei’s inner circle.” “That’s his background, isn’t it?” “Given that, there’s no doubt Mi Fang still keeps clear financial calculations in mind.” “A man who cares nothing for fame or life can’t be handled, but one with clear interests is easily persuaded.” “Well… try approaching him with conviction.”

“Do you mean I should make my move like this?” “Precisely—this is how you must act.”

On an available scrap of paper, Yu Fan dashed off something with his brush. Fu Shiren had been leaning in to read silently when suddenly his face lit up with comprehension. “Ah! I see. I see!” As if deeply impressed, he immediately took on a courageous demeanor, “Then I’ll be off,” he said and departed.

With about ten horsemen in tow, he departed for Nandu. Mi Fang exited the city to welcome his friend, first inquiring about Guan Yu’s whereabouts, then lamenting the fall of Jing Province as he wiped away bitter tears. “Actually… the truth is, that’s precisely why I’ve come for a consultation with you today.”

“By ‘consultation,’ do you mean regarding military strategy?”

“Come now, it’s not that this humble one is unaware of loyalty and righteousness—with Jing Province fallen, all is lost. After deeply considering that it would be better than needlessly sacrificing soldiers and burdening the people, I have in fact already pledged surrender to Wu.”

“What?!” “You surrendered?” “You too should lower your banners and, together with this humble one, pay homage to Sun Quan.” “The Marquis of Wu is still young with a promising future, and by all accounts, he appears to be quite a wise lord.”

“Fu Shiren.” “Know who you’re speaking to.” “How do you view this bond between Mi Fang and the King of Hanzhong as lord and vassal?” “…But,” “Shut up.” “I am not one who would betray the King of Hanzhong, having received his profound benevolence for many years, at this critical juncture.” At that very moment, Mi Fang’s retainer hurriedly came to report. A messenger had arrived posthaste from Guan Yu on the battlefield.

“Let him through,” Mi Fang said. The messenger arrived and, citing the urgency of the matter, announced he would deliver his message verbally before conveying Guan Yu’s demand: “Though the battle situation has progressed favorably due to the great flood in the Fancheng region, the shortage of military provisions defies description, and the entire army has reached the utmost extremity of exhaustion.” “Therefore, we urgently require you to procure 100,000 *koku* of provisions from both Nandu and Gong’an and transport them to General Guan’s camp.” “Should there be negligence in this matter, we have orders to report it to Chengdu and impose severe punishment.”

Mi Fang and Fu Shiren exchanged glances. It was an utterly impossible demand. Procuring even 100,000 koku of provisions would be difficult, and now that Jing Province had fallen, there was no means of transportation. “What are we to do?” Mi Fang crossed his arms and buried his face. Fu Shiren, having turned traitor, was no longer someone he could consult with—yet to defy Guan Yu’s orders would invite unimaginable calamities in the days to come. “—Agh!”

Suddenly, beneath a spray of blood, the messenger collapsed. Mi Fang too jumped up in shock. It was Fu Shiren who drew his sword and suddenly cut down the messenger. Still gripping the bloodied sword, he advanced further toward Mi Fang.

III

Mi Fang stood as if his soul had left him, his face deathly pale and his body trembling uncontrollably—but soon, “This violence has gone too far! Why in the world did you cut down Guan Yu’s messenger……?”

Fu Shiren, also deathly pale, said, “To hasten your decision.” “And to preserve our lives.” “Can’t you see through Guan Yu’s intentions?” “Guan Yu knows full well this demand is impossible yet imposes it anyway—he harbors a sinister plan to later blame Jing Province’s defeat on our negligence. Mi Fang!” “Now, let us go to the Marquis of Wu.” “Why should we bind our hands and die like dogs?” “Now, let’s leave the city!”

He sheathed his sword and pulled Mi Fang by the hand. Of course, this was a stratagem devised by Yu Fan—Guan Yu’s order was fabricated, and the envoy was undoubtedly an impostor.

Mi Fang still hesitated. For he still harbored doubts even about that. But then—the earth trembled with war cries and pounding drums—stunned, they rushed onto the battlements and saw Wu’s great army already encircling the city.

“Why do you not rejoice in living?” With that, Fu Shiren seized the dazed Mi Fang by the arm and forcibly dragged him from the city. Through Yu Fan’s mediation, they met Lü Meng, who then presented Mi Fang to Sun Quan in formal audience.

×　　　　　×　　　　　×

To Wei’s capital, a Wu special envoy entered bearing intelligence.

The special envoy said: “Wu has already conquered Jing Province. Why does Wei not seize this opportunity to destroy Guan Yu?” Of course, Cao Cao was not idly observing this situation. He had merely been biding his time until Wu’s stance solidified. “Now is the time,” he began to move. He led Wei’s grand army and advanced south of Luoyang. To the further south of there, at Yanglingpo, Xu Huang’s fifty-thousand-strong vanguard force had already taken position and stood confronting the enemy.

“The King of Wei has personally taken the field and now decrees to utterly annihilate the enemy Guan Yu.” “Within days, His Majesty shall advance scores of *li* further.” “Xu Huang’s army must first deploy its vanguard to strike the enemy’s front lines.”

The military envoy arrived at Xu Huang’s camp and conveyed Cao Cao’s orders in this manner. “Understood,” declared Xu Huang. He immediately ordered Xu Shang and Lü Jian’s two units to raise his general’s banner and adopt frontal tactics, while he himself organized a surprise force of over five hundred cavalry. Following the flow of the Mian River, he maneuvered around to the rear of Yancheng—the perceived core of the enemy’s position. At that time, Guan Yu’s son Guan Ping was stationed at Yancheng, and his subordinate Liao Hua had deployed at Sizhong. During that time, they continuously lined up twelve strongholds along the undulating terrain of the wilderness, surrounding Fancheng on one front and preparing for Wei’s reinforcements on the other.

“The Wei army at Yanglingpo has suddenly begun to move—they’re brandishing Xu Huang’s general’s banner!”

The soldiers of Yancheng erupted in clamor. Guan Ping drew his hand weapon and waited for their approach, "If Xu Huang himself comes, then the enemy is more than welcome!" With that, he led three thousand elite soldiers out of the city gate, seized advantageous terrain to deploy his battle array, beat the drums in unison and struck the gongs, his banners seeming to shake the heavens.

But Wei’s general’s banner was a decoy. The ones who rushed out from beneath it were Xu Shang and Lü Jian. The two aligned their spears,

“We won’t let you escape, you 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, throwing them into disarray instead. And he chased and chased the two fleeing men, pursuing them for over ten *li*.

Then, from a completely unexpected direction, a troop of cavalry charged toward their flank like a whirlwind. And a general shouted: “Are you unaware, Guan Ping? Jing Province has already been seized by Sun Quan of Wu! You—a defeated general without a home, you brat! What are you lingering around the battlefield for?!” he taunted.

That was the real Xu Huang.

Snow-White Temple Hair

一

“Huh? Jing Province has fallen?”

Guan Ping's fighting spirit ebbed; abandoning Xu Huang, he raced back at full speed. In his chaotic mind— "Is it true? No way...?" —his thoughts churned with agitated indecision.

And when he galloped near Yancheng—lo!—the castle was belching thick black smoke. And when he asked the allied soldiers scattering like spiderlings from beneath the flames,

“Xu Huang’s forces had stealthily closed in on the rear gate and attacked with raging flames,” they all said.

So today’s battle was exactly the bungled engagement by our forces that fell into his trap, Guan Ping realized. He stamped his feet and shouted, but it was already too late. Guan Ping spurred his horse and raced toward the Sizhong encampment. Liao Hua welcomed him and, as soon as they entered the camp,

"Today, from nowhere in particular, there have been constant rumors that Jing Province has fallen—that Wu has occupied it. Have you heard this too?" he inquired. Guan Ping drew his sword, stood amidst his allied forces, and addressed the entire army with his reply to Liao Hua.

“All rumors are stratagems to sap the enemy’s fighting spirit! Those who spread baseless lies or entertain idle gossip will be executed by my hand!”

For several days, they focused solely on defense while observing nearby strategic positions and the enemy’s disposition. Sizhong lay with the Mian River flowing before it. Its main routes were fortified with deer fences, while its rear approach’s terrain—a labyrinth of valleys, mountains, and dense forests—proved so impenetrable that even birds would struggle to fly through.

“According to the scouts’ reports,” Guan Ping analyzed, “Xu Huang has ridden his momentum of victory and advanced rapidly all the way to that distant mountain.” He tapped the map. “That bare hill offers no strategic advantage. By contrast, our Sizhong position remains peerless in its defenses—even undermanned, we could hold it.” Turning to Liao Hua, he leaned forward. “What say you and I slip out tonight and strike his camp?” The loss of Yancheng had left Guan Ping itching for redemption. At last he convinced Liao Hua to abandon their headquarters with him. For this gambit, he handpicked only the finest warriors from among their elite troops—men who could move like shadows and strike like thunderbolts.

In the wilderness, on a hill, there stood a military camp. It was the so-called front-line unit. This small unit was spread out in a scattered horizontal formation and stretched across twelve locations over a long distance.

The prospect of the enemy breaking through this line was terrifying. For if one point were breached, all twelve units would scatter. The reason Liao Hua acted in accordance with Guan Ping’s impetuosity was ultimately due to the critical importance of that line. “Tonight, I will lead the attack on the enemy’s bare mountain. “You will hold this line. When you see the enemy in disarray, form the Twelve Interlinked Pearls formation to compress them, and slaughter every last fleeing soldier without mercy.”

Leaving these words with Liao Hua, Guan Ping alone launched a midnight assault on the bare mountain.

However, on the mountain top, there were only the shadows of flags—no people.

“Blast it!” Just as he tried to rush down, they let out a cacophony from every cave, rock crevice, and behind the mountain—battle cries, explosions, curses, and roars that seemed to split the very earth itself—a veritable landslide of sound. Generals Lü Jian and Xu Shang “Brat! Did your father teach you nothing but how to flee?”

they chased Guan Ping around. Even after leaving the mountain and emerging onto the plains, the Wei army only grew larger. It seemed as though every blade of grass had transformed into Wei soldiers pursuing Guan Ping. The line that Liao Hua had been defending could not withstand this raging tide and collapsed all at once. No, worse yet—from the Sizhong position as well, blazing flames began to scorch the night sky. Gasping for breath, when they came to the flow of the Mian River, there at the forefront stood Xu Huang astride his horse,

“Not a single one crosses!” Xu Huang had arrayed an annihilation formation without flaw.

There was no way left to turn things around. It was a total defeat. Guan Ping and Liao Hua had no choice but to hurry to Fancheng. And as soon as they appeared before Guan Yu, “I have disgraced myself.” He wiped away his bitter tears with a fist. “Such is the way of war.” Guan Yu did not reprimand him. However, when Guan Ping reported the rumors concerning Jing Province, “Preposterous!” he rebuked — “The general at Lukou is a mere child, we have the beacon towers prepared, and Jing Province’s defenses are as secure as Mount Tai. What do you think you’re doing, getting taken in by the enemy’s rumors?”

he admonished in a harsh tone.

II Cao Cao’s central army and Xu Huang’s vanguard both advanced remarkably. A vast army numbering in the tens if not hundreds of thousands now filled the mountains and fields, lapping like waves as they pressed in on Guan Yu’s position. “Do you see now, Xu Huang?”

The arrow wound on Guan Yu’s left arm now appeared completely healed, but it had been a long time since his illness that his hand gripped the Green Dragon Crescent Blade.

“Xu Huang—you must stay away!” Guan Ping had tried to dissuade him, but—Guan Yu shook his long beard from side to side,

“Xu Huang is an old friend.” “I must tell him one thing—and show that I have not yet aged!”

At last, on the day the two armies clashed, Guan Yu rode out on his horse and met Xu Huang. Xu Huang had ten-odd fierce generals behind him. On horseback, he performed a bow, then spoke.

“Since our last parting years ago, I never imagined your temples would whiten like snow, General.” “In my prime years long past, when I received your teachings—this humble one still remembers them clearly.” “Today brings me the honor of gazing upon your noble visage once more.” “My emotions overflow beyond measure.” “This joy defies containment.” “Ah! So it is Xu Huang!” “You too have recently forged a reputation shining bright as daylight.” “In secret, I too have celebrated your rise.” “Yet why show such harshness toward my son Guan Ping?” “If our past intimacy remains unclouded in your heart—though yielding merits to others—should you not keep yourself cloaked within the rear ranks?”

“No, General! Have you already forgotten? In the days of my youth, did you not teach me the words, ‘Great righteousness destroys kin’? Now, officers! Vie to seize that white-haired head! The rewards will be as you desire!” With a loud shout, the moment his horse’s hooves kicked up dirt, he too brandished his axe and charged at Guan Yu alongside the fierce generals behind him. I am not old! I am not old! Guan Yu, exhorting himself, brandished his Green Dragon Crescent Blade through dozens of clashes amidst thunderous strikes.

However, the arrow wound could not be said to have fully healed. Especially for a man weakened by age and recent illness. His condition was truly perilous to behold. For Guan Ping, driven by filial devotion, it was all the more unbearable. Guan Ping immediately sounded the retreat gong and pulled back the troops.

This retreat gong was indeed a premonition.

At the same time, the long-besieged soldiers of Fancheng threw open their gates and charged out. As these were troops fighting with desperate fury, the encirclement was effortlessly broken through, and Guan Yu’s forces there were driven like an avalanche to the banks of the Xiang River. From these two collapsing fronts, Guan Yu’s army suffered total disintegration. When night fell, they began fleeing in droves toward the upper reaches of the Xiang River. All along their route, Wei’s massive army rose up from every position to further hasten the dispersal of their weakened ranks. In particular, Lü Chang’s surprise attack left them fragmented beyond repair—countless soldiers met their end drowning in the river.

Finally crossing the river and entering Xiangyang, when they looked back at their allies—how few they were! What a pitiful sight! Even Guan Yu could not hold back his tears of grief. Not only that, but upon arriving here, they realized for the first time that the fall of Jing Province was no mere rumor. Upon hearing that his entire clan, wife, and children were being kept alive under Wu’s great general Lü Meng’s control, Guan Yu heaved a bitter sigh and gazed heavenward, rendered speechless for a time. The Wei army quickly spread from the riverbanks to the city outskirts, and they could no longer remain in Xiangyang for long. As they headed toward Gong’an Castle, one of their own generals came fleeing along the way, bringing tragic news: Fu Shiren had opened Gong’an’s gates and surrendered it to Wu, while Mi Fang of Nan Commandery, persuaded by him, had also defected to Sun Quan.

“Ugh... Why has it come to this...?” With gritted teeth and resentment that pierced the heavens, Guan Yu glared as though his eyes would split—then suddenly collapsed forward onto his horse’s mane.

The wound on his arm split open. They helped him down and tended to him, but Guan Yu could not cease feeling ashamed of his own oversight. Upon hearing of Lü Meng’s stratagems and how he had bypassed the beacon towers— “I erred and fell for that upstart’s scheme. “What face do I have to meet my sworn brother Xuande while still alive?”

With that, he buried his face in his armor sleeve, choking back both voice and tears. Meanwhile, Cao Ren—who had left Fancheng and overnight reversed the roles of offense and defense to shift to pursuit—was persuaded by his vassal Sima Zhao Yan’s profound strategy: “To pursue Guan Yu into further desperation now would be folly. For the sake of leaving Wu as a lingering threat...” Accordingly, he withdrew his troops and assembled them all at Cao Cao’s main camp. Cao Cao praised Xu Huang for his first-class merit in this campaign, enfeoffing him as General Who Pacifies the South and stationing him to defend Xiangyang.

The Moon Sets Over Maicheng

1

Should they advance? Before them lay the Wu army of Jing Province. Should they retreat? Behind them lay Wei’s large army, arrayed in full force.

Across the desolate field where the defeated army dwindled away, only a mournful wind wrenched the heart.

“General-in-Chief,” “How about testing the waters by sending a letter to Lü Meng?” “In former days when he was stationed at Lukou, he frequently delivered secret letters proposing we form a sworn bond—that when the hour came, we might unite to crush Wu and annihilate Wei.” “Perhaps he still nurses such designs deep within…” His retainer Zhao Lei urged this course. “Then let us make the attempt.”

It was akin to groping through a pitch-dark night. He searched for even a single glimmer of light.

Guan Yu drafted a letter.

Carrying it, the messenger departed for Jing Province. Upon hearing this, Lü Meng personally went outside the city walls to welcome him, lining up horses to escort the envoy himself. “They say an envoy from General Guan Yu has arrived!” “If you are Lord Guan Yu’s retainer, you would know tidings of our sons who served at Fancheng.” Upon hearing this, the citizens of Jing Province swarmed around the envoy, pleading for news—whether their children were safe, their husbands alive, their parents still living, their brothers unharmed, their uncles surviving, or their nephews fallen in battle—begging to learn of their loved ones’ fates.

“When I return. When I return,” the envoy soothed them, finally entering the castle town. Lü Meng read the letter. “I fully comprehend General Guan’s position,” he said. “Nor have I forgotten our former camaraderie.” “Yet alliances remain personal matters.” “Today’s affairs answer to the state’s command.” “Pray tend to your health—convey that I send my regards.” He feasted the envoy lavishly, bestowed gifts of gold and silk, then escorted him out with utmost courtesy at the city gate. When they saw the envoy departing, the people of Jing Province came clutching letters and comfort parcels prepared in advance,

“Deliver this to my child,” and “This to my husband,” they entreated, handing the items to the envoy.

And still they added in chorus: "We all live free from any care under Lord Lü Meng’s benevolent rule—clad more warmly than before, with medicine given to the ill and aid granted to those in hardship. Please tell this too to our sons and husbands."

The envoy was tormented. He wanted to cover his ears and flee. When he finally returned to the desolate field camp and reported everything truthfully to Guan Yu, the general let out a prolonged sigh. "Ah," he lamented, "I cannot match Lü Meng's far-reaching schemes. Now I see—it was all part of his meticulous planning from the start. To make even Jing Province's people submit so completely... What a formidable man."

After that, he fell silent and said nothing more. Only a single tear glistened in the corner of his eye.

The field camp could not remain long. When heavy rain fell, the vicinity would instantly turn into swamps and rivers. Given this, he would adopt a shatter-the-jade policy and charge into Jing Province. To cross blades with Lü Meng would be a satisfying end. He issued orders and decided that tomorrow they would break camp and set out. However, when dawn broke, the majority of the soldiers had already deserted unnoticed, leaving them with an increasingly diminished military force. “Ah, damn it! If I had known it would come to this, I should never have let the soldiers hear about the letters, goods, and messages entrusted by the people of Jing Province.”

The general who had sent the envoy secretly regretted it, but it was already too late. Even on the faces of the remaining soldiers, the shadows of homesickness and lingering attachments were deeply etched, and their fighting spirit showed no sign of rising.

“Let those who would leave, leave. Even if I stand alone, I shall enter Jing Province.”

Guan Yu advanced resolutely. However, along the way, Wu’s two generals Jiang Qin and Zhou Tai had taken position at a treacherous pass and lay in wait. They clashed by the riverside, roared across the plains, and howled through the mountain darkness—and there, Xu Sheng of Wu thundered war drums to spring an ambush, attacking from both mountain peaks and valleys below. “What are a million enemies to me?”

Amid his unshaken composure, Guan Yu's martial prowess showed no trace of fatigue. Yet within the mountain gorge, beneath the crystalline gleam of a waxing half-moon, even he found his will to fight sapped away when hearing the echoing cries of people. Parents called for children, children for parents. Husbands' names mingled with wives' in lamentations that drifted faintly through the sorrowing wind. Here and there, Guan Yu's soldiers waved white banners as they fled toward Jing Province.

“Ah. “Is this too part of Lü Meng’s scheme?” Guan Yu stood disheartened, rigid beneath the moon.

II

The flock of birds that had flown away would not return even when called. The flowing waters would not turn back even when beckoned with one’s hand. Once soldiers lost their will to fight and began scattering in flight, driven by lingering attachments, no renowned commander—however skilled—could summon their fleeing feet back beneath the military banners. There was nothing left but to stand by and watch.

“All is lost.” Guan Yu’s form remained as motionless as a cold stone statue. The remaining officers and soldiers numbered fewer than four or five hundred. Yet Guan Ping and Liao Hua—

“We must find a way out somehow.” Gathering their meager forces, they launched surprise attacks on the enemy’s encirclement, and finally opened a bloody path on one front—

“For now, let us retreat to Maicheng,” they said, shielding Guan Yu as they fled toward the foothills.

Maicheng was not far off. But now, there remained nothing more than an ancient castle from the Former Qin dynasty - its name alone persisting as a place name. Of course, no one had dwelled there for ages, and its walls and stone ramparts lay crumbled in ruin. "In times like these," came the declaration, "if five hundred loyal spirits unite to hold this ground, even this ruin could be called an impregnable fortress."

Upon entering here, when Liao Hua boosted their morale in this way, Guan Ping, too, first demonstrated his own vigorous spirit by example,

“Exactly! The weak soldiers clinging to attachments have all deserted—only true warriors sifted through remain here now. These are fierce warriors—each capable of taking on a thousand foes. The smallness of our forces is no issue.” Guan Ping declared boldly.

Nevertheless, both Guan Ping and Liao Hua had steeled themselves mentally for the gravest outcome. The two appeared before Guan Yu and proposed once more:

“The land of Shangyong lies not far from here. In Shangyong Castle reside Liu Feng and Meng Da of Shu, among others. If we seek aid to summon their Shu forces, renew our strength, and drive Wei away, I believe we may be ninety percent certain of retaking Jing Province.” “That plan alone remains to us.”

Guan Yu climbed to the watchtower. And gazed out beyond the ancient city. Astonishing—every mountain and river across the land had transformed into Wu banners and Wu soldiers. It was the so-called iron barrel of a siege—impenetrable even to ants. Moreover, their ranks stood perfectly aligned, their morale ran high, and their horses' neighing rang out vigorously.

Guan Yu turned and said. “Is there anyone who can successfully break through this heavy siege and deliver a message to Shangyong? If they go out, it will instantly become a path to death.”

No sooner had he heard this than Liao Hua responded. “I swear—this humble one will fulfill the mission. If I cannot succeed, there is only death. Please send out a second messenger immediately.” That night, Liao Hua sewed Guan Yu’s letter into his clothing, was seen off by the others, and slipped out through one of the ancient city’s gates.

Instantly, the path through the dark night resounded with the clamor of war drums and clashing spears. Subordinates of Wu’s general Ding Feng detected them at once and gave chase. From within the city walls, Guan Ping’s unit charged out and threw their ranks into disarray. Liao Hua had finally breached the death line.

He had tasted every hardship, reduced to looking like a beggar, and finally reached his destination: Shangyong. And upon immediately visiting the castle, he met Liu Feng and reported the details, “Even the great General Guan has now been driven to a complete impasse within Maicheng.” “If rescue is delayed, General Guan will have no choice but to meet his end.” “This isn’t a matter of days—no, of moments! Every instant counts!” “I implore you to dispatch reinforcements at once!” Without even taking a sip of water, he pleaded urgently.

Liu Feng nodded. But what Liu Feng thought—

“At any rate, I’ll consult with Meng Da first.” Having made him wait, he abruptly sent for Meng Da.

Before long, Meng Da was already at a separate pavilion. Liu Feng went there, and the two began intensely deliberating the issue in private—after all, even here in Shangyong, their forces were now dispersed across various minor battlefronts. Moreover, splitting their own forces from the main castle to send them far away was by no means a favorable course of action for the two of them.

3 Meng Da persuaded Liu Feng with a grave expression.

“Let us refuse.” “Though regrettable, we cannot comply with Guan Yu’s request.” “The reason needs no explanation—in Jing Province’s nine commanderies alone lurk no fewer than four hundred thousand Wu troops, while in Jianghan, Cao Cao’s Wei forces numbering four to five hundred thousand stir restlessly.” “What could dispatching a paltry two or three thousand reinforcements possibly achieve there?” “On the contrary—it would only imperil this very Shangyong itself.”

Meng Da’s reasoning was common sense.

However, Liu Feng was tormented. Because Guan Yu was his uncle. Meng Da, gauging his expression, “Since you are the adopted son of the Liu family, by rights you should have been Crown Prince of the King of Hanzhong—yet it was Guan Yu who obstructed that.” “Initially, when the King of Hanzhong inquired of Zhuge Liang regarding that matter, Zhuge Liang—being a shrewd man—cleverly sidestepped it by saying, ‘My lord, matters of the family should be discussed with Guan Yu or Zhang Fei.’” “When the inquiry was sent to Guan Yu, he—‘It is an eternal principle from ancient times to the present that a concubine’s son cannot be made Crown Prince.’” “Guan Yu submitted his official reply: ‘Liu Feng is but an adopted son—let him be given some minor castle in the mountains.’ He regarded you as no more than a speck of dust.”

“Even so… if I were to abandon Guan Yu now, how would the world censure me?” “Who would blame someone for failing to extinguish a cartload of firewood ablaze with but a cup of water?”

Liu Feng, having finally resolved himself, met Liao Hua and refused. Liao Hua was stunned, struck his head, and rubbed his face against the floor, “If you do not send aid, General Guan will perish at Maicheng!” “Do you intend to let him die without lifting a finger?”

he wailed in despair. “—How could a mere cup of water extinguish a cartload of burning firewood?”

Liu Feng flung those words behind him and fled deeper into the inner chambers.

Liao Hua further sought an audience with Meng Da, but he feigned illness and absolutely refused to meet. He stamped his feet in frustration and left Shangyong. And cursing over and over, he whipped his horse and galloped toward distant Chengdu. For even if the path lay beyond countless mountains and rivers, no matter how distant, he resolved that now he had no choice but to directly beseech the King of Hanzhong for rescue.

×　　　　　×　　　　　×

Maicheng grew increasingly desolate with each passing day.

Guan Yu, Guan Ping, and five hundred officers and soldiers waited with necks craned,

"Today? Or tomorrow?" They waited for Liao Hua's return and watched for reinforcement banners, but from time to time saw only flocks of migratory birds traversing the sky.

Provisions exhausted, hearts weary, men and horses alike lifeless—within the ancient city that resembled a graveyard, only the grass continued to grow. Guan Yu sat meditating with closed eyes 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 it well. “Until the end.”

Guan Yu uttered only a single sentence. At that moment—there came a knock at the city gate. He was Wu’s military supervisor and strategist, said also to be the elder brother of Shu’s Kongming. That man was none other than Zhuge Jin. “It has truly been too long,” he said.

When Jin met Guan Yu, he conveyed the heartfelt message from the Lord of Wu. “To recognize the exigencies of the times is the hallmark of a renowned general’s discernment. The tide has already turned. Of Jing Province’s nine commanderies, only Maicheng remains as a lone bastion—now there remains nothing beyond Wu’s control. With no provisions within and no relief without, what purpose does upholding your honor serve? My lord Sun Quan has dispatched this humble one to cordially invite you, General, to his presence. How about joining me on the path of glory and longevity—that is, surrendering at Wu’s camp gates?”

Guan Yu gave a wry smile and shrugged. “The Lord of Wu lacks eyes to see men’s worth. Spare me your honeyed words meant for cowards. Though cornered, Guan Yu remains the jewel of warriors. Shattered, it retains its luster; its purity endures. Within days, I shall march from these walls and settle matters with Sun Quan in battle. Return and tell him so.” “Why does the General court destruction so eagerly?” Then from a corner came a roar—“Silence!”—as a youth sprang toward Zhuge Jin with drawn blade. Guan Yu barked a rebuke and seized Guan Ping’s arm,

“Wait, wait!” “He is Kongming’s brother. For Kongming’s sake, let him go!”

After driving Jin back outside the city walls, Guan Yu closed his eyes once more, solitary and still.

The mountains of Shu lie far away.

I

But enough digression—

In the China of seventeen hundred years ago, one can see today's China; in modern China, one can often glimpse the China of the Three Kingdoms era. Warfare, throughout all ages, is the ceaseless flow of the Yellow River and the surging waves of the Yangtze that run through the history of China. By what destiny has this continental land of China never known even a single half-century free from warfare throughout its millennia of history?

Therefore, all of China’s representative figures were forged in the crucible of warfare and built their lives amidst its unending turmoil. The people too cultivated the ever-shifting soil of ceaseless upheaval, gave birth to children under constant fear of war, and managed all aspects of their livelihoods—exile and reunion, joy and sorrow—amidst the ravages of conflict, much like burrowing insects in a storm. The Three Kingdoms conflict of the Later Han Dynasty transformed all of China into a conflagration of interlinked battlefields, its vast war flames invading as far north as distant Mengjiang and extending south from present-day Yunnan to the French Indochina region (Indochina Peninsula)—a great whirlwind period engulfing the entire loess continent. It was a crucible of great turmoil.

It was Liu Bei Xuande who rose under the banner of saving the people with benevolence; Cao Cao of Wei, who wielded royal authority in the name of the Han dynasty to pursue hegemony through might; and Sun Quan, Marquis of Wu in Jianye (present-day Nanjing), who amassed wealth and power in Jiangnan while constantly strategizing to advance upstream.

Jian'an 24. Cao Cao achieved his long-cherished ambition by ascending to the position of King of Wei, even going so far as to usurp the imperial regalia of the Son of Heaven, while Liu Bei Xuande, following Zhuge Liang’s counsel, proclaimed himself King of Hanzhong in Chengdu of Shu. As for Jing Province, which bordered both Wei and Wu, they had placed Guan Yu there, and for a time he devoted himself to strengthening domestic governance. As expected, Shu’s great misfortune arose precisely then, from that very Jing Province. It was both the death of Guan Yu and the loss of Jing Province.

Later historians debated fiercely—some declaring this a grave complacency Xuande’s prolonged success and good fortune had unwittingly invited, while others argued it constituted a major failure by Kongming in his capacity as royal advisor—and thus condemned both Liu Bei and Kongming.

However. From a broad perspective, what truly mattered for Shu in the Central Plains lay not in Jing Province but in Hanzhong. There in Hanzhong, Cao Cao of Wei had personally led a great army to attempt its recapture—at this critical juncture, Shu’s attention naturally became fixated on Cao Cao. This same Cao Cao and Sun Quan of Wu had been sworn enemies since Red Cliffs. That their longstanding rivalry could vanish overnight through diplomatic machinations—that Wei and Wu would forge an alliance, with Wu’s massive fleet ascending the Yangtze to threaten Jing Province—must have seemed an inconceivable reversal beyond even nightmare’s imagining.

Moreover, both Liu Bei and Kongming had placed somewhat excessive reliance on Guan Yu’s military prowess. Loyalty, valor, courage, and wisdom—indeed, Guan Yu was undoubtedly a renowned general of his era. Yet even he had his limits. Once he lost his foothold in Jing Province, even the mighty Guan Yu met a tragic end—his spirit worn by years of battle, his demise too pitiful to recount. As war clouds engulfed the entire land at their peak moment, with this great commander’s star blazing its last upon Maicheng’s grassy plain, the history of the Three Kingdoms’ great wars may henceforth be called the Former Three Kingdoms Chronicle up to this point, while what follows deserves to be named the Latter Three Kingdoms Chronicle. "The Latter Three Kingdoms Chronicle" centers on Zhuge Kongming—he who served Xuande’s orphaned heir until collapsing at Wuzhang Plains’ edge, devoting his life to tears of loyalty and blood-stained righteousness. Our ancestors of old declared: "He who does not weep upon reading the Chu Shi Biao is no true man." Undoubtedly, he too remains a man of the East. Therefore, in today’s Japan, I firmly believe in this new interpretation’s significance. May readers too discern this meaning through their reading—let it serve as one modest resource for nurturing understanding and concern toward our friendly nation across the sea: that land sharing roots and birth with China’s people yet ravaged by kindred warfare and political upheavals.

II

Kongming’s elder brother, Zhuge Jin, was perpetually placed in precarious positions and was constantly dispatched on thankless missions.

Gentle and erudite, he was a man of considerable stature, but overshadowed by the towering greatness of his younger brother Kongming—his name never gained renown, and his presence was all too easily forgotten.

After all, he served Wu, while his younger brother Kongming was in Shu. Not only was he not suspected by the Marquis of Wu and Wu’s officers and soldiers, but the very fact that he remained in Wu’s camp made clear how upright and principled a man he was.

Yet despite this, he was only ever employed or selected as an envoy for tasks such as diplomatic stratagems against Shu or operations to win over Guan Yu as an ally—roles that in every case amounted to excruciatingly difficult duties forcing him to indirectly draw his bow against his own kin.

Even when he had previously been sent as an envoy to Jing Province, he had tasted bitterness; now too, upon entering Maicheng to persuade Guan Yu, he felt indescribable anguish in his heart. He had known even before meeting him: Guan Yu had formed sworn brotherhood with Xuande in the Peach Garden during their youth and was a general whom even his own younger brother Kongming could not help but hold in constant esteem. No amount of allurements or honeyed words could ever make such a man forsake his principles and surrender to Wu.

But a thread of hope remained for him: "The fate of Maicheng was already determined. With no provisions, no military strength, no reinforcements from the rear—and given Guan Yu's tender-hearted nature—he might yet resolve to surrender to save his five hundred starving subordinates." That was all there was to it. Yet even this remained nothing more than Zhuge Jin's fantasy. Before resolute Guan Yu, he could not help feeling ashamed merely for having stood there as an envoy. Not only were all his arguments dismissed with scornful laughter, but he suffered the indignity of being threatened with a sword by Guan Yu's adopted son and driven away in disarray.

"What a waste... He was truly a remarkable man." "He was truly a remarkable man."

Even so, he muttered pensively to himself and returned. Sun Quan, Marquis of Wu, had been waiting impatiently at the main camp of the besieging forces, but when he saw Zhuge Jin return, “How did it go?” he immediately asked in a rapid voice. “He wouldn’t even listen.”

Zhuge Jin reported back truthfully and further,

“Guan Yu’s heart is iron and stone itself. In the end, attempting to entice him with the kind of worldly gains and losses used to persuade ordinary men would not only prove utterly futile but would only serve to offer my lord’s earnest concerns for his mockery.”

he added.

Then Lü Fan, who stood nearby, “Let me divine the outcome,” he said, looking up at Sun Quan’s face. The more Lü Fan understood Guan Yu’s fierce loyalty to Shu, the clearer it became that their lord’s heart clung to desperate hopes—through every means imaginable—to avoid killing Guan Yu and instead draw him into Wu’s fold. “Hmm,” “Very well—divine it.” Lü Fan withdrew from his lord’s presence, changed into purification robes, and secluded himself in a chamber containing an altar. He prayed to the spirits of Fuxi and Shennong, prostrated himself for one ke, performed three divinations, and obtained the hexagram Earth over Water: The Army.

Although night had already fallen, when he returned to his lord’s presence to present the hexagram, Lü Meng—who had been playing Go with Sun Quan—declared: “The hexagram’s reading is indeed accurate—its image shows the enemy fleeing far away. This aligns perfectly with my own assessment. Guan Yu is likely plotting to escape Maicheng at this very moment. He will avoid the main roads and instead target the narrow mountain path north of the city, attempting a nighttime breakthrough.”

he said, gesturing with his palm.

Sun Quan abruptly clapped his hands and—

“That’s the moment. Lay an ambush and capture him alive on the narrow mountain path!” He hastily began issuing military orders, but Lü Meng remained facing the Go board, smirking to himself.

III “Come now—let us conclude this ongoing game.” “Now it is your turn, my lord.” Lü Meng, across the Go board, urged Sun Quan to make his next move.

Sun Quan was already restless and distracted,

“This is no time for that! We must cease this Go game and prepare an ambush on Maicheng’s mountain paths!”

At this, Lü Meng—

“There is no need for concern,” Lü Meng replied. “Even if Guan Yu could tunnel through earth or soar through sky, our operational preparations have left him no possible escape from that place.” “Then you’ve positioned ambushes at both the castle’s rear gate and back mountain?” Sun Quan pressed. “Naturally.” Lü Meng’s finger tapped the Go board. “Now—how will you answer this move?”

With that, he pushed the board forward again. Sun Quan, having heard this, regained his composure and turned back to the game board—when suddenly Lü Meng, “...Ah, right—the besiegers at the North Gate are a bit too formidable. Someone, summon Pan Zhang.” he muttered to himself and commanded the warrior behind him.

Pan Zhang was immediately summoned. Lü Meng turned around while playing Go, “At Maicheng’s North Gate, we have three thousand besiegers deployed, but reduce them to a mere seven or eight hundred weak soldiers and reposition all others to lie in ambush in the mountains to the northwest. Go immediately and issue these orders,” he instructed.

Pan Zhang departed, and then, “Summon Zhu Ran.” Lü Meng requested the attendants, and when Zhu Ran appeared, “Add four thousand fresh cavalry to intensify pressure on the enemy castle’s southern, eastern, and western fronts. Then take a separate thousand cavalry yourself and patrol every corner of the northern paths and wilderness as a mobile force.” Immediately after this, Lü Meng left the Go board and,

“What did I tell you? I’ve won again. Though you’ve tried your best, my lord, you still cannot best Lü Meng,” he laughed cheerfully. Though it was a lost game, Sun Quan joined in uproarious laughter. Though defeated in Go, he now found profound satisfaction in knowing the enemy stronghold’s fate hung by a thread and that capturing Guan Yu alive was proceeding according to divine stratagems.

—In stark contrast,

Inside Maicheng these past few days—truly, it was a scene of utter devastation. The five hundred soldiers had been reduced to three hundred. The wounded multiplied while deserters streamed away endlessly. When night fell, Jing Province soldiers within Wu’s ranks outside the Ancient City would come whispering— “Qiu! Show yourself!” “Li! “Li! Escape and join us!” —their hushed enticements piercing the darkness. The temptation proved potent. Even Guan Yu now stood like a commander drained of stratagems. To Wang Fu and Zhao Lei he confessed: “This is our end. When I reflect—this crushing defeat stems solely from my own inadequacies. Whether Liao Hua fell along the way matters not. All hope of reinforcement has perished.”

he let slip a note of despair. As he wondered whether even Guan Yu—that paragon of righteous courage and loyal spirit, renowned throughout his age—now faced his tragic end, Wang Fu could not hold back his tears. “No! I absolutely cannot accept that every stratagem has been exhausted.” “A path remains.” “From recent observations, the enemy’s rear defenses at the North Gate are thin. Should Your Lordship break through there and charge into the northern mountains toward Shu—what could prevent us from returning today’s misfortune upon our foes? ...This humble Wang Fu shall stake his life to secure your retreat.” “I will serve as rear guard until both this castle and I are ground to dust.” “I beg you—make all haste to Shu.”

With that, he urged retreat. Already, there was no food left, nor any arrows or ammunition. Guan Yu finally swallowed his tears and parted from Wang Fu. Thus, leaving just over a hundred men in the city and leading fewer than two hundred soldiers, he launched a surprise attack from the north of Maicheng after judging the darkness of the moonless night.

Four Generals Guan Ping and Zhao Lei took the lead before Guan Yu, first scattering the Wu soldiers near the North Gate; then the lord and his retinue of two hundred cavalry charged single-mindedly toward the mountains. If only they could cross the towering peaks north of Maicheng—the road would lead to Shu, and they would stand beyond Wu’s encirclement. “Endure until we reach that point!”

“Until we reach that point—even if you encounter enemy ambushes—do not engage them. Just scatter them and hurry!”

Exchanging their watchword as they surrounded and protected Guan Yu, the comrades soon began to climb the pitch-dark mountain path during the first watch.

For a while, they encountered no enemies, nor was there any sign of ambushes rustling the grass and trees. They crossed one mountain, only to face another. In the meantime, the western marsh spread its hem, cradling a basin of darkness as pitch-black as a lacquer jar. The white rush was water, the towering cliffs were rock—Guan Yu and Guan Ping’s steeds stumbled time and again on stones and trailing vines.

Then suddenly, countless flickering lights appeared from the marsh ahead. From the left mountain too came a swarm of torches rushing downward. From the right peak and even behind, flames converged here, soon merging into an inferno that threatened to scorch the sky. “Wu troops!” “Ambush!” Arrows already whistled past like sudden rain. Long prepared for this moment, Guan Yu adjusted his grip on the Green Dragon Crescent Blade atop his steed, “Guan Ping! Clear the way!” he commanded.

“Father, please proceed this way.” Taking the lead, Guan Ping charged into the swarming ambush forces. Following this, Guan Yu too began to advance his steed— “General Yu, stay your advance!”

Zhu Ran, Wu’s great general, called out from the flank.

Guan Yu glanced back briefly but, disdaining battle, charged onward. Zhu Ran gave chase, “I have never heard of General Yu ever showing your back to the enemy—what compels you to act thus tonight?” and tenaciously thrust his spear. “Hah! Do you truly crave my blade at your neck so soon?!” Guan Yu wheeled his horse about and, in one swift motion, swung the Green Dragon Crescent Blade behind him. Zhu Ran lowered his visage, summoned all his resolve, and launched a furious assault—but from the first stood no match against Guan Yu. Soon trembling with terror, he fled.

*Do not pursue!* He had cautioned himself thus, but caught in the momentum of a rider on a tiger, he eventually lost sight of Guan Ping’s figure. With his small force scattered in disarray, he ended up chasing Zhu Ran all the way into the mountain’s narrow pass. That place was called the narrow path of Linju—a labyrinth where even woodcutters often lost their way. Suddenly, rocks from the surrounding mountains crumbled down, threatening to bury even the steeds’ legs. The seven or eight retainers who had stayed close to him were all struck by rocks and crushed.

“Oh, is this the mortal world or hell?” Guan Yu muttered “Damnation!” while abruptly trying to turn his horse back, but Wu’s great general Pan Zhang’s ambush forces hurled torches to block his path ahead and behind. When they confirmed Guan Yu stood isolated at this impasse, they beat drums and clanged gongs in unison like beaters flushing out a beast king—howling to rally allies, then howling again in response to their comrades. “Father! Father…!”

Somewhere, Guan Ping's voice could be heard. Guan Yu’s mind was thrown into disarray. Where is my son? What of Zhao Lei and the other allies? “General Yu! General Yu!” “Zhao Lei’s head has already been struck off.” “How long will you persist in this futile struggle?” “Resolutely remove your helmet and entrust your destiny to Wu.” Wu general Pan Zhang urged his horse forward and addressed Guan Yu. His long beard billowing in the wind, Guan Yu charged forth—

“You brute!” “How could you comprehend true martial spirit?” Guan Yu glared at him from beneath the Green Dragon Crescent Blade raised high overhead. Without enduring ten exchanges, Pan Zhang fled headlong. When Guan Yu gave chase and pressed toward the jungle path, hooks attached to ropes and weighted chains rained down chaotically from giant trees on all sides. Guan Yu’s steed again had its legs entangled by something and whinnied. Had Heaven’s Mandate ended here? In that same moment, Guan Yu fell from his saddle. There, one of Pan Zhang’s subordinates named Ma Zhong extended bear-claw hooks and set forked restraining poles, finally twisting Guan Yu down and pinning him. They swarmed in and bound his arms behind his back.

A Horse That Refuses to Graze

I

While Guan Ping was searching for his father, he was captured alive by the forces of Zhu Ran and Pan Zhang. Even as he was bound with coarse ropes and dragged off to the camp of Marquis Sun Quan of Wu, he continued to cry out his father Guan Yu’s name, repeating, “Unjust! Unjust!” 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, gazed at him with a composed air, and spoke.

“I have long admired you, General—even attempted to have your daughter marry my son. Why did you reject my earnest proposal at that time?”

Guan Yu remained silent.

Sun Quan continued speaking, "Moreover, you have always believed yourself invincible under heaven—how then have you fallen into my forces' hands today?" "It seems Heaven itself admonishes you to surrender 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 drew himself up with dignity. “Emperor Uncle Liu and I swore brotherhood in the Peach Garden, pledging to cleanse the realm. Through a hundred battles and a thousand trials since, never have we known doubt or betrayal—not even in our dreams.” “Today, though I have fallen into Wu’s scheme through error, even should I lose my life—beneath the Nine Springs lies the Peach Garden oath; above the Nine Heavens remains Guan Yu’s spirit.” “How could I let you Wu traitors go unpunished?” “To speak of surrender—what folly!” “Strike off my head at once!”

He fell silent and spoke no more. It was as if a massive boulder had been placed before them. Sun Quan looked to his left and right,

“I mourn this hero of an era.” “Can nothing be done?” he whispered.

Zuo Xian, the Registrar, offered his counsel. “Refrain from this. “Refrain from this. In the past, Cao Cao also obtained this man, hosting small banquets every three days and grand banquets every five days, bestowing upon him the title of Marquis of Shouting as an honor, presenting him with ten beautiful women to indulge his worldly desires, and day and night currying favor to detain him. Yet ultimately, he did not remain under Cao Cao’s command—did he not instead slay the generals at the Five Passes and return to Xuande’s side? Is there not such a precedent?” “…………” “With all due respect, even that very Cao Cao could not keep him. How much less would he settle in the land of Wu? Even Cao Cao, who had drunk the bitter cup, later came to deeply regret it. If we do not kill him now, he will surely become a great calamity for Wu in the future.”

“…………” Sun Quan remained silent for a while, breathing through his nostrils, but then suddenly leapt to his feet and shouted in a voice not even he recognized. “Behead him!” “Execute him!—Bring out Guan Yu!” The warriors clustered together and led Guan Yu to the military plaza. And lining up his adopted son Guan Ping beside him, they struck off their heads.

It was the tenth month of the twenty-fourth 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. “As your reward,” said Sun Quan to Ma Zhong, “I shall grant you the horse that Guan Yu rode.” “Prove yourself worthy of him!” Guan Yu’s beloved steed was none other than Red Hare, a horse renowned throughout the land for its swiftness. Sun Quan gave it to Ma Zhong and also bestowed upon Pan Zhang this Green Dragon Crescent Blade, which had become another relic of Guan Yu. (A desire to emulate the great general) seemed universal—even as an enemy—for every relic of Guan Yu down to a single sleeve or strand of cord was coveted by Wu’s officers. In that sense, Ma Zhong became the object of everyone’s envy—but,

"This can’t be good." "What’s happening?"

After four or five days, he became terribly dejected. For the Red Hare he had been granted had ceased to eat grass from the very day Guan Yu died. Led out beneath the autumn sun, no matter how much fragrant feed they offered or how they brought it to gaze at the water's edge, it would only shake its head and neigh sorrowfully toward Maicheng. In Maicheng, over a hundred people still held out under siege. However, when the Wu army pressed forward, Wang Fu—having apparently learned of Guan Yu's death—leaped from the watchtower to his demise. Zhou Cang, who was called Guan Yu's right-hand man, also cut off his own head and died in indignation.

II

After Guan Yu’s death, all manner of strange occurrences were recounted. His military virtue and popular esteem—fermented through the lamentations of grieving commoners—would in time be imbued with mystique to form legends, tales that would echo through every alleyway. In any case, various rumors arose.

In Jing Province’s Yushan Mountain dwelled an old monk named Pujing. He had originally been a monk at Zhenguo Temple in Sishui Pass and was said to have been both a mentor who had known Guan Yu since their youth and his close friend.

Lately. One moonlit night, as the monk Pujing sat alone in meditation within his hermitage, “Pujing! Pujing!” A voice sounded from the air, “Return my head!” “Return my head!”

The voice was clearly heard twice. Looking up, they saw Guan Yu’s visage distinctly emerge amidst the clouds, flanked by Zhou Cang on his right and Guan Ping on his left, with his other officers and soldiers following. Pujing raised his voice and,

“Yunchang Guan Yu, where do you linger now?” Pujing inquired.

Then the voice from the air, thick with bitter resentment, “I fell into Lü Meng’s treacherous scheme and was slain by Wu. Venerable Monk, seek my head and stir my spirit!” the voice answered. Pujing rose and went out into the garden, “General, why have you not yet awakened to the folly of this delusion? Do not the white bones that share your resentment lie heaped along the mountain paths and fields you have trodden to this day? The Peach Garden oath has already been fulfilled. Now you should close your eyes and rest in the Nine Springs. Katsu!”

With that, when he struck the moon with his whisk, Guan Yu’s shadow instantly vanished like mist.

However, even after that, on moonlit nights and rainy nights, they would come knocking at the hermitage— “Venerable Master, bestow your lofty teachings upon me!” As it was said these human voices frequently occurred, the villagers of Yushan Mountain consulted together and built a temple to console Guan Yu’s spirit.

Also.

Sun Quan of Wu hosted a grand banquet to honor his officers and soldiers after the Jing Province campaign, but Lü Meng was nowhere to be seen. He sent a messenger from his seat at the banquet to Lü Meng,

“This acquisition of Jing Province rests entirely upon your profound stratagems and far-reaching schemes.” “Your absence leaves this lord desolate.” “I shall not lift cup until your arrival,” he proclaimed.

Lü Meng, overwhelmed by the overly generous praise, immediately came to the banquet hall. Sun Quan raised his cup and, “Zhou Yu defeated Cao Cao at Chibi but unfortunately passed away all too soon. “Lu Su also harbored grand strategies worthy of an emperor yet never succeeded in seizing Jing Province. “But these two were indeed remarkable men I encountered in my lifetime. “Today Jing Province has become mine—and moreover!—my Lü Meng remains alive and well before my very eyes! “Nothing could bring me greater delight! “Truly you surpass even Zhou Yu and Lu Su! You are Wu’s greatest treasure!” With these words he offered him the cup.

Then Lü Meng abruptly threw down his cup and fixed his piercing glare upon Sun Quan, “Green-eyed brat! Purple-bearded rat thief! Cease your delusions of grandeur!”

With a thunderous roar, he began launching into further curses. All the assembled guests rose to their feet and gathered around him, attempting to lead him away, but Lü Meng shook them off with terrifying strength, trampling through the panicked crowd as he finally seized the seat of honor. And with eyes blazing under possession by a malevolent spirit, “For thirty years I dominated battlefields! Though I fell to your deceit and lost my life, my spirit shall surely reside over the Shu army and not rest until Wu is destroyed! Know that I am none other than Guan Yu, Marquis of Shouting of Han!”

“he roared like a beast.”

Sun Quan and all present trembled in terror and fled to another pavilion. But when the lamps were extinguished and it became pitch-dark, Lü Meng did not emerge from there. Afterwards, when everyone quietly lit lamps and went to check that place, Lü Meng was found dead, clutching his own hair in torment.

This too was one of the tales circulating among the populace at that time. Needless to say, it stood undoubtedly far removed from the truth.

However, it was indeed a fact that Lü Meng passed away from illness not long after the capture of Jing Province.

State Funeral

I

Lord of Wu, shedding copious tears over Lü Meng’s death, conferred a posthumous rank upon him, prepared a coffin, and after conducting an elaborate state funeral,

“Summon Lü Ba from Jianye,” he ordered.

Lü Ba was Lü Meng’s son. Eventually brought by Zhang Zhao to Jing Province, Sun Quan gazed at the pitiable orphan "You may directly inherit your father’s position."

Sun Quan comforted him.

At that moment, Zhang Zhao inquired.

“What has been done with Guan Yu’s burial since then?” “He was executed by decapitation and left where he fell. The head has been preserved in salt.” “We must address this matter.” “A funeral?” “No—this concerns preparations for what is to come. He, Xuande, and Zhang Fei are sworn brothers who pledged in the Peach Garden that whether in life or death, they would never be parted. When Shu learns of Guan Yu’s execution, they will mobilize their entire nation and stop at nothing to avenge him. Should Zhuge Liang’s wisdom, Zhang Fei’s valor, and the ferocity of Ma Chao, Huang Zhong, and Zhao Yun descend upon Wu without mercy—how would Your Lordship propose we defend against it?”

“……”

Sun Quan turned pale. Though Sun Quan himself had not failed to consider this matter, seeing Zhang Zhao's profound dread of future calamity compelled him to confront anew the grim inevitability of it. Zhang Zhao continued. "For Wu, there remains yet another fearsome problem." "That being—it is certain Shu will undoubtedly seek alliance with Wei for their objectives, disregarding temporary setbacks." "Should Shu cede territory to Cao Cao and form a Wei-Shu coalition to march south against us, Wu would immediately suffer a shattering defeat—torn asunder—never again to ride the Yangtze's currents toward dominance."

“...Zhang Zhao. How can we prevent that from happening?”

"Therefore—even though he is dead, we must give grave consideration to Guan Yu's disposition." "Guan Yu’s death was originally Cao Cao’s command and Cao Cao’s doing—we must shift the blame for this calamity entirely onto Wei." Zhang Zhao thus reasoned. "—Therefore, if we have an envoy deliver Guan Yu’s head to Cao Cao, he will naturally accept it with commendation, given that he previously sent a letter urging Wu to eliminate Guan Yu."

“I see.”

“And Wu will vigorously proclaim throughout the realm that it was Wei who destroyed Guan Yu, as if extolling his achievements.” “Then Xuande’s resentment will naturally be directed toward Cao Cao of Wei, allowing Wu to stand in a third-party position and manage subsequent developments.” When it came to devising such intricate schemes for international strategy, there truly was none other than Zhang Zhao. Sun Quan, esteeming this elder statesman’s counsel, promptly selected an envoy to bear Guan Yu’s head and dispatched him to Wei.

At that time, Cao Cao had already triumphantly returned to Luoyang when he heard that a Wu envoy had come to present Guan Yu’s head, “So he has become a severed head, and This king lives to see the day we meet here?”

As he reminisced about bygone days, Cao Cao also commended Sun Quan’s solemn demeanor and, together with his ministers, escorted the envoy in to conduct an inspection of Guan Yu’s head.

Then, at that very gathering,

“Your Majesty! Your Majesty! In your excessive joy, you must not accept the great calamity that Wu has sent along with it!”

Then, from among those present, someone shouted. The eyes of the crowd sought the speaker’s face. When Cao Cao turned and asked why he had spoken, the man— “This is Wu’s terrifying scheme to divert calamity and turn Shu’s resentment toward Wei.” “By using Guan Yu’s head to create strife between Wei and Shu, they wait for both nations to exhaust themselves in battle—there can be no doubt this is Wu’s treacherous ploy.” —he declared without reservation. This was Sima Yi, whose style name was Zhongda.

II

Wu’s profound scheme ultimately failed to deceive Wei. Wei too possessed men of penetrating insight. Sima Zhongda’s words had laid bare Wu’s deception with unsparing clarity. Cao Cao shuddered, his hairs standing on end, and nodded in agreement that Zhongda had indeed pierced through Wu’s true intentions. They even debated whether to return Guan Yu’s head directly to Wu, but “No—that would diminish Your Majesty’s magnanimity.” “First accept it provisionally. After discreetly sending back their envoy, you may then separately devise further stratagems.”

And that too was Zhongda’s opinion. After the Wu envoy had withdrawn, Cao Cao declared a period of mourning and halted all music in Luoyang for one hundred days. He had Guan Yu’s remains carved from agarwood and buried them 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 took charge as the chairman of the funeral committee. All officials, great and small, stood to see off the procession. Hundreds of mounted ceremonial guards, mourning flowers, released birds, sacrificial sheep, and ritual oxen wound through the streets of Luoyang. And yet, at this grand state funeral venue, an imperial envoy—specially requested by King of Wei Cao Cao—stood to address Guan Yu beneath the earth,

“We confer upon you the title of King of Jing.”

Thus, there had even been official proceedings for posthumous conferment. Wu transferred the calamity to Wei, and Wei shifted the calamity to curry favor with Shu.

The war among the Three Kingdoms began scattering sparks of wisdom—not merely across battlefields piled with corpses and rivers of blood, but now also in diplomatic stratagems and contests for swaying hearts and minds, where illusion and reality intertwined. When compared to the early campaign era when Cao Cao and Xuande first emerged onto history's stage, it became clear that both warfare's execution and its very nature had transformed entirely. They could no longer afford to grow intoxicated by celebratory cups over partial victories and triumphs while declaring "We have won," as they once did. Now that Shu, Wei, and Wu entered an era requiring their total strength to determine heaven and earth's fate, one could say this tripartite confrontation—whether fought one-on-one or through shifting alliances where two joined against one—had come to stake graver national destinies on such international maneuvers and diplomatic warfare. Thus behind large-scale military campaigns' scenes, observers could discern warfare's dual aspect—a war beyond war that constantly mobilized every facet of human intellect for its battles.

The timeline now shifted back slightly—

In Chengdu, Xuande had previously taken into his inner palace Lady Wu—a widow of the same clan and the bereaved wife of Liu Mao—and made her his new principal consort. Lady Wu was chaste and virtuous, and her countenance was fair. During Xuande’s time in Jing Province, he had married Sun Quan’s sister of Wu; but after parting ways with this Lady Sun, though he had long dwelled in a desolate household, he later fathered two sons with his young consort Lady Wu.

The elder brother was Liu Yong, style name Gongshou.

The younger brother was Liu Li, style name Fengxiao.

Around that time— From someone who had come to Shu from the Jing Province front— “Recently, Sun Quan of Wu tried to win over Guan Yu by sending an envoy to propose taking Guan Yu’s daughter as bride for the Marquis of Wu’s heir. But Guan Yu reportedly refused, declaring, ‘I will not give my tiger’s cub as bride to a dog’s whelp!’” and relayed it in an amusingly exaggerated manner. By the time the rumor reached Kongming’s ears, it was already much later. When Kongming intuitively sensed that a crisis was occurring in Jing Province, “If you do not send someone to replace Guan Yu, Jing Province will surely fall into peril.”

By the time Kongming cautioned Xuande, fast horses bearing reports of the war situation from Jing Province had already been streaming into Shu day and night. However, since these were all tidings of victorious battles, Xuande remained in high spirits—until one autumn night in the tenth month, when Consort Lady Wu roused him from a doze at his desk. Startled by the dream he had just witnessed, he jerked upright and scanned his surroundings in alarm.

Chengdu Trembles

I The moonlight passed through the palace eaves and illuminated the area around Xuande’s knees. Consort Wu noticed that the candles had gone out and called her maids to relight them while—

“What troubles you?”

and approached Xuande’s side. “No, I was just leaning against the desk reading alone, but…” Xuande muttered, then immediately contradicted himself by demanding, “Did you hear me groaning?” he challenged. “Yes, you were moaning in your sleep,” the consort replied with a smile, adding that she had come to investigate after hearing his loud cry twice. “I see. Well then, I must have dozed off and been dreaming.”

Xuande finally regained his composure and showed a smile in the candlelight. Then he called Wazi and the others and amused himself with the Consort for a time, but eventually retired to his bedchamber.

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

In the dream, there was a sliver of a moon. An ink-black cold wind ceaselessly battled the clouds, and when the cries—whether of clouds or wind—ceased, there was someone prostrate at the hem of the bedchamber’s curtain. In shock, within the dream, Xuande bellowed at the figure. (Ah, Is that not my sworn brother? Guan Yu... Guan Yu! What in the world have you come here for at this late hour?) Though this was unmistakably Guan Yu’s shadow, it bore no resemblance to his usual self; he did not lift his face, remaining motionless as tears streamed down. ——And with a single phrase,

(The bond of the Peach Garden has faded into an ephemeral past. Elder Brother, I beseech you to swiftly prepare your armies and avenge your sworn brother’s grievance…) With that, he silently bowed and flowed out beyond the curtain like water. (Wait, wait! Sworn brother!) Xuande, crying out in his dream, chased after that shadow and ran out to the front hall’s corridor. But at that moment, a sliver of moon in the sky seemed to fly like a ball and fall into the Western Hills; covering his face with an “Ah!”, he collapsed toward it.

The dream was merely a dream, yet the fact remained that he had collapsed in the front hall’s corridor. That morning, Kongming had arrived at the Military Advisor’s residence earlier than usual, but upon hearing rumors from a retainer, he immediately visited the inner palace of the Prince of Hanzhong. “Your complexion seems a bit poor—did you not rest well last night?” “Ah! Military Advisor!” Xuande said as though he had been awaiting him—“In truth, I saw the same dream twice over last night, so I was just thinking of sending for you,” he recounted plainly.

Kongming laughed, "That is merely an illusion born of Your Majesty's mental fatigue from constantly thinking of Guan Yu, who remains far away—those so-called dreams born of worldly attachments. First, today Your Majesty should take your august steps beneath Autumn Garden's splendor and spend the full day delighting in merry pursuits with the Consort and young lords."

Kongming withdrew at once.

And when he reached the Middle Gate Corridor, Grand Tutor Xu Jing came hurrying over from afar, his face pale. He called out to stop him,

“Grand Tutor, has something happened?” he asked. Xu Jing informed him in a rapid tone.

"Jing Province has fallen—according to an early morning dispatch."

“What?! Jing Province?!” “Jing Province...?!” “It is said that Lü Meng of Wu schemed against him, and Guan Yu was stripped of Jing Province, fleeing to Maicheng.”

“...Hmm.” “That must indeed be true.” “Night after night, when observing the celestial signs, I perceived a wisp of baleful clouds drifting across Jing Province’s heavens.” “Ah.” “Yet Grand Tutor, it would be prudent not to reveal this matter to the Prince of Hanzhong at present.” “A sudden shock might injure his health.”

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

“Military Advisor! Do not trouble yourself so. “I remain sound of health. “As for Jing Province’s fall and Lord Guan Yu’s calamity—these outcomes I had long foreseen and steeled myself against,” declared Xuande from across the corridor.

At that moment, Ma Liang and Yi Ji arrived and each in turn conveyed the tragic news of Jing Province’s fall. Moreover, that same afternoon, Guan Yu’s subordinate Liao Hua, appearing like a beggar, managed to arrive here from distant Maicheng.

Two

With Liao Hua's arrival, the situation became increasingly clear. Xuande's look of grief turned to anger from that moment.

For the truth he had now heard directly from Liao Hua’s own lips was this: even after witnessing Jing Province’s collapse, even after learning of Guan Yu’s dire straits, and even when Liao Hua himself had gone to plead for reinforcements, Liu Feng and Meng Da—stationed in Shangyong—had stubbornly refused to dispatch aid, merely standing by as this grave crisis unfolded. “How dare they abandon my sworn brother Guan Yu to die! Those utterly hateful wretches—Liu Feng and Meng Da!” “They must absolutely be punished!”

He issued orders to the three armies and declared he would personally take the field, also sending word to Zhang Fei in Langzhong, “An emergency has occurred. Come at once and meet me.” With that, he dispatched an urgent courier. Kongming did his utmost to soothe his grief and anger,

“First, keep your heart calm, Your Majesty. This humble advisor shall personally lead an army and assuredly rescue Lord Guan Yu from his isolation. As for meting out discipline to Lord Liu Feng and Meng Da, I deem it proper to defer such matters for now.” Before long, Zhang Fei too came galloping to join them. The soldiers and horses from throughout Shu Zhong streamed ceaselessly into Chengdu. Over those two or three days, dense clouds over the Three Gorges swelled with wind, lending an indefinable tension to the air—precisely at this juncture did catastrophic news arrive by final urgent courier at Shu Palace’s gates, news sufficient to plunge the entire nation into despair’s abyss.

(One night, Guan Yu’s army left Maicheng in an attempt to flee toward Shu. En route at Linju, they were finally captured by Ma Zhong—a subordinate of Wu’s General Pan Zhang. That same day within the Wu camp, both father and son were beheaded, meeting an ignoble end—such was the report.) Upon hearing this—though he had long steeled himself—Xuande cried out in anguish. “Oh! Has Guan Yu truly left this mortal realm?”

With that, he wailed so violently that he collapsed, and for three days thereafter, he neither ate nor met with his subjects.

However, only Kongming insisted on entering the tent enclosure and admonished Xuande—who was grieving like a woman—as though scolding him. “Life and death are fated; wealth and honor lie with heaven. If the Oath of the Peach Garden was a promise, then are not death and parting also natural promises? If my lord were to harm his health as well, what are we to do?” “Military Advisor, do not mock me. Though I know it is unmanly, I cannot master these base emotions.” “I understand your feelings. Yet it is strange that despite your grief, there remains no means to vent your indignation.”

“It is precisely because there is no outlet for my indignation that I avoid facing others! Why do you reproach me for this, Military Advisor? Behold—I swear I shall not share the same sky with Wu! I will not rest until I have exacted this vengeance upon them!” “If only Your Majesty would fix that resolve firmly in your heart, then surely this is no season for endlessly mimicking women’s tears. Urgent couriers have brought fresh reports to the palace since then—again this very morning—yet with your curtains drawn and seclusion so deep, the intelligence officers find no way to lay them before you. All are at their wits’ end.”

"I was wrong. "I will amend my ways." “According to this morning’s intelligence, Wu has sent Lord Guan Yu’s head to Wei, where they conducted a state funeral with royal rites.” “What is Wu’s aim?” “It is a scheme to redirect our Shu’s resentment toward Wei by shifting blame, making our spears point northward.” “Who could be deceived by such trickery? "I shall march at once. "And crush Wu to appease Guan Yu’s spirit.” “This course is most unwise.”

“Why? Just moments ago, you chastised me for weeping like a woman—and now you speak these words? Isn’t that a contradiction?”

“We must bide our time.” “Were Guan Yu still alive, no sacrifice would be too great—but now, further agitation serves no purpose.—For now, we must withdraw our forces and quietly observe the shifting tides. Only when discord has been fomented between Wu and Wei, and the two have sparked conflict, should Shu rise at last.” “Until then, this humble advisor prays you keep your resentment folded within your breast……”

On this day, mourning was declared throughout Shu in the name of the King of Hanzhong. At the southern gate of Chengdu Palace, an altar was erected to honor Guan Yu, and all through the snow-laden winter, mourning banners remained frozen in the icy expanse.

Pear tree

Part I

During his days on the battlefield, even Cao Cao—who seemed ageless—had returned in triumph and indulged in idle luxury. Yet more and more frequently he found himself complaining of aches here and pains there—his body becoming a constant source of grievance. However, he was already sixty-five years old this year—an advanced age. It was only natural that his body no longer obeyed him, yet he himself did not yet seem to think so. “Lately I wasn’t at my best—could it be that Guan Yu’s spirit was haunting me?” He would occasionally fret over such thoughts.

One day, the attendants said, "The palace buildings of this Luoyang Temporary Palace have grown quite aged, which explains the frequent supernatural occurrences. Since they say a change of residence revitalizes one's energy, might Your Majesty consider constructing an entirely new palace?" they advised. Even before this, Cao Cao had long harbored the desire to construct a grand hall to be named Jian Shi Hall, but he had yet to find a craftsman of his desired caliber. So when one of the attendants raised this matter again,

“In Luoyang, there is a master builder named Su Yue.” “With this, he will surely meet your approval.”

they said. He commanded Jia Xu to immediately convey the matter to Su Yue, and thus it was ordered. After being summoned, Su Yue submitted the design plans through Jia Xu. When Cao Cao looked them over, he seemed most pleased with the conception of Jian Shi Hall at the rear—a nine-bay great hall forming the centerpiece that connected southern and northern towers. However, doubting whether such lengthy ridgepoles could be procured for the nine-bay hall, he summoned Su Yue and demanded: “Your design is truly excellent, but mere artistic merit alone will not suffice.” “From where will you procure such enormous timber?” he asked.

Su Yue replied. "Thirty li from Luoyang, at the depths of Yuelong Tan, there stands a shrine." "The pear tree there stands over ten zhang tall—a sacred tree of ancient times." “How about cutting this down to use as ridgepoles?”

“What? A pear tree.” “That is rare.” “It shall become a structure without equal under heaven.”

Even in old age, his penchant for the peculiar showed no sign of waning. Cao Cao promptly sent a host of men to fell it. Yet the sacred tree's trunk resisted both saw teeth and axe blades utterly—days passed without any timber being delivered.

Upon hearing this, Cao Cao concluded that it must be because the laborers were terrified by the legend of the shrine’s sacred tree. He declared, “I myself shall go there to dispel their superstitious fears. Have my carriage prepared!” Then, abruptly taking several hundred horsemen as his retinue, he set out for Yuelong Tan.

Alighting from his carriage and looking up at the pear tree, he saw its crown touching the clouds while its roots coiled in the abyss like a hundred dragons.

Cao Cao approached the base of the tree, “Under all heaven, there is none that can bring me harm. Now I shall cut thee down and make thee the ridgepole of my Jian Shi Hall. If thou hast a spirit, thou shouldst rejoice in this posthumous blessing.” He drew his sword and, with a swift motion, delivered a single strike to the pear tree’s trunk.

The local elders and priests who had been watching this all let out cries and wailed. As their voices rang out, the pear tree trembled violently, scattering its leaves as its trunk gushed forth sap like blood. “I have already struck the first blow with my axe. If the tree spirit seeks vengeance, let it curse Cao Cao. There’s nothing more to fear, so cut it down without hesitation.”

He gave those instructions to Craftsman Su Yue and the laborers, then immediately returned to Luoyang. However, when he alighted from the carriage at the palace gate, his complexion was already no longer normal. Muttering that he felt slightly unwell, he immediately entered his palace bedchamber.

Before long, the court physician hurriedly withdrew from there and,

"The fever is quite high," he muttered with a furrowed brow as he entered the medicine hall. Occasionally, delirious speech leaked through the bedchamber's curtain. Each time this happened, attendants would rush in to peer at his bedside, whereupon Cao Cao would open his eyes wide,

"Where has the pear tree spirit gone?" he demanded, scanning the room sharply. When the attendants replied, "There is no such being," Cao Cao shook his head vehemently. "No! A white-robed monstrous deity claiming to be the pear tree spirit has pressed upon this king's chest countless times," he insisted. "Search for it!" He would not yield.

Two

The next day, Cao Cao continued to suffer from unrelenting headaches. Occasionally, he would mutter about the monstrous deity of the pear tree, just as he had the previous night. The court physician tried every medicine, but the patient’s suffering did not diminish in the least. And as days passed, gaunt emaciation became visible on Cao Cao’s face, like the plaster of an old mural peeling away. Unusually, this morning he seemed to be in slightly better spirits, and Cao Cao was engaged in conversation with Hua Xin, who had come to visit him. Hua Xin,

“If Your Majesty deems the court physicians’ myriad remedies ineffective, why not summon Hua Tuo, who I hear now resides in Jin City, and see?” “Hua Tuo is a renowned physician in all the realm.”

Hua Xin had been urging this persistently. The patient was swayed,

“I have long heard of the renowned physician Hua Tuo. He is a native of Pei Country’s Qiao Commandery—wasn’t he the one who treated Wu’s Zhou Tai previously?” “You are well informed. He is precisely as Your Majesty has described—there is said to be no ailment he cannot cure. There are even accounts of gravely ill patients—those suffering from diseased organs or rotting innards—whom he treated by administering Mafei Decoction. Within moments, they would fall into a deathlike trance. Then he would take a blade, open their abdomens, cleanse their organs with medicinal washes, swiftly restore everything to its proper place, and suture the wounds with thread. In such cases, they reportedly recovered completely within twenty days.”

“Hmm… So he employs such drastic treatments?”

“No, no—it is said that during the procedure, the patient feels no pain whatsoever.” “I have also heard of such an example.” “The wife of the Chancellor of Ganling—when she was six months pregnant—suddenly suffered severe abdominal pain and endured three days and nights of agony. She had Hua Tuo examine her.” Hua Tuo took her pulse and immediately exclaimed, “Alas, what a pity! Though the child she carries appears to be a fine male, he has already perished in the womb from food poisoning.” “If he did not treat her now, the mother’s life would surely be in danger,” he explained. “So he prepared a medicinal concoction and administered it to the patient. Sure enough, the male fetus was expelled, and after seven days, the lady regained her former health.”

“If his skills are so miraculous, then I shall summon him. See to it promptly.” The patient commanded thus, his eyes gleaming with hope. Hua Xin promptly dispatched messengers and, leveraging the authority of the King of Wei, summoned Hua Tuo from the distant lands of Jin City to Luoyang, traveling day and night without pause. Upon arriving, Hua Tuo ascended to the palace that very day and attended at Cao Cao’s sickroom. He then carefully examined his eyelids and pulse. “This is undoubtedly a wind-induced ailment,” he diagnosed.

Cao Cao nodded, "That must be it. This king's chronic ailment is what is called a migraine—when it flares up, the head aches unbearably, and for days I can neither eat nor drink, as is usual. Since I have gone to the trouble of summoning a renowned physician, is there not some way to completely cure this chronic illness of mine?" "Indeed..." Hua Tuo wore a slightly troubled expression and was deep in thought, but after a while, "It is not that there is no way. However, it requires an extremely difficult surgical procedure. Since the root of Your Majesty's chronic ailment lies within the brain, even if you take medicine, it will ultimately have no effect on the illness. The sole method is to drink Mafei Decoction, induce a deathlike trance where consciousness and perception are utterly extinguished, then open the skull to excise the root of the wind-induced ailment. If done, there may be an eight or nine in ten chance of achieving a complete cure."

“If even one in ten goes awry, what then?” “With all due respect, there is nothing to be done but accept your allotted fate.” Cao Cao flared up in rage, “You quack! Do you intend to use this king’s life as an experiment for your surgeon’s blade?” “Ha ha ha! I have full confidence in my abilities, but I deliberately stated it modestly. When Lord Guan Yu of Jing Province suffered from a poisoned arrow in the past, I went to him, cut open his arm, scraped the bone, removed even that venom, and achieved a complete cure. Why does Your Majesty fear such a minor surgery and doubt Hua Tuo’s medical skill?”

“Silence! How can you equate an arm with a skull? Ah, so you are an associate of Guan Yu! I infer that you have seized upon my illness as the perfect opportunity to approach me and avenge him. Guards! Guards! Seize this villain and throw him into prison!”

The patient bolted upright and cursed like an asura while pointing.

Cao Cao died.

1

Despite meeting a renowned physician, he did not accept treatment from him. Not only did he doubt Hua Tuo's words, but he cast him into prison. Truly, this could only signify that Cao Cao's natural lifespan had reached its end. However, Wu Jailer, the prison warden, took pity on Hua Tuo's undeserved misfortune. He secretly provided bedding and meals, and even when ordered to apply torture, shielded him while merely submitting reports.

Hua Tuo deeply felt this kindness. One day, when no one was around,

“Wu Jailer,” “Your kindness is appreciated, but if your superiors were to find out, you would be dismissed immediately.” “I am already old.” “I have now come to realize that my life will not be long.” “Please leave me alone from now on.”

he said tearfully. “No, no! If you were guilty, I would never shield you either. But ever since my days in Wu, I have deeply revered your character and miraculous skills.” “Please do not trouble yourself with such concerns.” “Then you hail from Wu?” “Yes. “My surname is also Wu. “In my youth, I loved medicine and even became a physician’s apprentice to study it. Yet I ultimately failed to attain mastery in that path, ending instead as a judicial official.”

“……Hmm, I see.” “In that case, as a token of my gratitude, I shall bequeath to you the medical texts I have kept at home as secret teachings.” “After I am gone, master all their miraculous efficacy and save the world’s ailing people.” “What?” “Master, is that true?” “Now, I shall write a letter addressed to my family in my hometown. You should go to my home in Jincheng and retrieve those medical texts.” “I shall also write within the letter, but those are called the Blue Satchel Texts—secreted deep within the library and never shown to another soul until this day.”

Hua Tuo wrote a letter addressed to his home. He entrusted it to Wu Jailer. However, news arrived that Cao Cao’s condition had worsened, and both inside and outside the palace gates as well as all government offices had somehow become busier and tenser; thus he kept the letter received from Hua Tuo deeply concealed on his person and ended up letting over ten days pass by. Then one early dawn, seven warriors carrying swords suddenly came clattering into the prison office,

“This is His Majesty the King of Wei’s command. Open this place.” Ordering the jailer to open the cell door where Hua Tuo was held, they had no sooner leapt inside than a groan rang out beyond the walls.

By the time Wu Jailer arrived at the scene, seven men carrying blood-stained swords were calmly making their way back. The warriors glanced back at his figure, “Wu Jailer! By His Majesty the King of Wei’s command, we have just executed Hua Tuo. That wretch has been appearing in His Majesty’s dreams night after night—we were ordered to come and behead him!” With that, they walked off.

Wu Jailer resigned from his post and departed for Jincheng that very day. Then he visited Hua Tuo’s home, delivered the letter, received the Blue Satchel Texts, and returned to his hometown. “I’ll quit being a jailer and make my living as a physician from now on.” “And I’ll become the greatest physician in all the realm!”

After a long time, he drank some wine, spoke to his wife, and slept at home that night.

The next morning, when he happened to glance at the garden, his wife was piling fallen leaves in the yard and building a bonfire. Wu Jailer was taken aback, "You fool! What do you think you're doing?" He stomped out the flames and shouted, but the Blue Satchel Texts had already turned to ash amidst the burning leaves. His wife retorted as coldly as ashes to her husband, whose face was contorted with rage. "Even if you were to become the greatest physician in the land, if this were to get you arrested and dragged back to prison, that would be the end of everything." "I burned those accursed texts." "No matter how much you scold me, I won't mind." "As your wife, I cannot stand by and watch you die in a cell."

Thus, Hua Tuo's Blue Satchel Texts ultimately never came to be passed down to the world.

And Cao Cao’s illness also grew increasingly severe around that time, as the clouds over Luoyang ushered in a bleak and sorrowful winter.

II

In early winter, his condition was once reported as critical, but when December arrived, Cao Cao’s health began to recover again.

A get-well envoy from Sun Quan of Wu arrived in the country. Within the letter, Wu referred to itself as “your subject Sun Quan”, (If Wei were to attack Shu, your subject’s army would at any time invade Liangchuan and strive to serve loyally as a wing of Your Majesty’s forces.) thus demonstrating obsequiousness.

Cao Cao scoffed from his sickbed,

“That greenhorn Sun Quan schemes to make this king pull chestnuts from the fire.” He muttered. Observing how the old dragon seemed poised at last to submerge into the abyss, a clandestine movement had begun that autumn among certain scheming Han court officials—Palace Attendants, Imperial Secretaries, and others in official posts—to elevate Cao Cao to Emperor of Great Wei, abolish the hollow shell of the Han dynasty, and thereby secure glory for themselves as well. Yet Cao Cao—

"This king need only be King Wen of Zhou."

He merely stated this and did not express any intention to ascend to the imperial throne himself. However, if one were to infer the unspoken meaning from this, it seemed sufficiently evident that his intention was this: by having his son ascend to the imperial throne, he himself would be satisfied being revered as the founding ancestor of successive dynasties. On another occasion, Sima Yi Zhongda quietly attended him at his bedside,

“Since the Wu envoy has come, humbly referring to themselves as a subject and submitting to Wei’s authority, would it not be a wise course of action at this time to bestow some additional favor upon Sun Quan and proclaim it throughout the realm?”

he added a word for what was to come.

Cao Cao nodded deeply in agreement,

“Yes, yes—you’ve noticed well. Let us send Sun Quan the seals of General of Agile Cavalry and Marquis of Nanchang. And have it proclaimed that he is to be appointed Governor of Jing Province,” he commanded, ordering the procedures to be carried out.

That night, he had a dream. He saw three horses thrusting their heads into a single feeding trough, competing to devour the fodder. When morning came and he told Jia Xu of this, Jia Xu laughed and said: “A dream of horses is surely auspicious! Among the common folk, they even hold celebrations when such dreams occur.” His words brought cheer to the ailing lord who had been so deeply troubled. None could have known then that people would later claim this very dream foretold how the Sima clan would supplant the Cao family and seize dominion over the realm.

From mid-December, when winter clouds hung frozen, Cao Cao's condition once again took a critical turn. Even a hero of his generation could not conquer illness. He was tormented by nightmares day and night. It was said he would sometimes hear rumblings as if all Luoyang's palaces and towers might quake and collapse. And each time this occurred, from billowing black clouds would emerge Empress Fu of Han—who had met her wretched end by his decree—alongside Consort Dong and the clan of Imperial Uncle Dong Cheng. They would wave ethereal white banners stained with blood before his eyes, sound metal drums within the clouds, and raise battle cries. Then tens of thousands of men and women would burst into unified laughter only to vanish instantly into thin air.

“All these are the work of strange phenomena. How about gathering Taoist priests from across the land and commanding them to perform prayers?” When the attendant said this，Cao Cao responded with a bitter smile： “Even if this king were to spend a thousand gold pieces daily，if Heaven so wills it，he could not purchase even a single day of life．Moreover，if it were heard that a hero on his deathbed had Taoist priests perform purification rites for him，he would become the laughingstock of the world．No need，no need！”

Having dismissed them, he then summoned all his senior ministers to his bedside,

"This king has four sons, but not all four can be called outstanding talents. "As for my observations—I have already told you all during ordinary times." "You must discern my intentions, uphold your loyalty, and establish my eldest son Cao Pi to secure our enduring legacy, just as you have served me." "Is that clear?" Having solemnly spoken these words, Cao Cao seemed in that instant to survey his sixty-six-year life in a single sweeping glance—tears like a rainstorm wetting his cheeks—before abruptly drawing his last breath amidst the sobbing eyes of his clan and ministers. It was then, in the latter days of spring’s first month during Jian’an’s twenty-fifth year, that hailstones like rocks fell upon Luoyang’s walls.

Martial Progenitor

Part I

Cao Cao’s death temporarily plunged the spring of the realm into silent darkness. Not only in Wei alone but also in the hearts of Shu and Wu’s people did it silently compel them to deeply reflect—as if realizing anew—that all humans ultimately dwell under an inescapable Mandate of Heaven. “Only when viewed as one departed does his true greatness become apparent.” “A man like him will likely not appear even once in a century—how about once in a millennium?” “He had many flaws, but his virtues were equally numerous. Had Cao Cao not appeared, history would not have turned out this way. By all means, he was a storm-bringer unparalleled in recorded history. He was a brilliant cunning hero. With his passing, an inevitable void remains.”

For some time now, whenever they gathered together, the citizens of Luoyang would mourn Cao’s death at every turn—sharing anecdotes about him and discussing his character—while reminiscing collectively about his lifetime.

"I am a descendant of Cao Shen, Chancellor of Han." This was what Cao Cao had proclaimed himself, but the reality appeared to differ considerably. His adoptive grandfather Cao Teng had served as a Palace Attendant-in-Ordinary of the Han court—what was known as a eunuch—and being a eunuch, he naturally had no children. Thus his father Song had been adopted from another family, and in any case, their lineage seemed far from distinguished.

When Cao Cao fought Yuan Shao, Chen Lin—who had composed a manifesto for Yuan Shao—referred to Cao in its text: "The disgraceful legacy of the treacherous eunuch." One could see this struck precisely at his sore spot. From his youth carrying a scholar's pack to study in Luoyang—even after graduating from the imperial academy—he led a dissolute life of roaming chivalry. Later barely becoming a palace gate guard, he endured meager pay for years while sporting a lice-infested formal uniform—his sole respectable garment—and spouting grand proclamations. No wonder none deigned to acknowledge him. In that era, Zijiang—a young officer who had glimpsed him—declared: "You are a capable minister in times of peace and a cunning hero in times of chaos."

“You are a capable minister in times of peace and a cunning hero in times of chaos.” That declaration, which had distilled his essence in a single phrase, stood as an aphorism that perfectly encapsulated both Cao Cao’s nature and his life’s trajectory. At the time, when confronted with Zijiang’s appraisal, “That is my true ambition,” he reportedly retorted before departing—leaving no doubt that even as an underpaid junior official, he had already fixed his gaze upon the realm’s gathering storm clouds and steeled himself to act alone. Synthesizing ancient records’ descriptions of his bearing and proclivities, he resembled neither Xuande in corpulence nor Sun Quan in possessing a long-torsoed, short-legged frame. Slender and tall, as chronicled in the *Cao Man Zhuan*,

Frivolous and lacking dignity, he was fond of music and kept entertainers at his side. Clothed in light silks, he always hung a small pouch containing handkerchiefs and trinkets. When conversing with others, he often jested; when laughing heartily, he would bury his head into his desk so deeply that it seemed as though he might blow the dishes from the dining tray. One could imagine his daily life from this description. As evidence of his leanness, there was an account in the *Heroic Chronicles* where Lü Bu—after being captured and brought before Cao Cao—

“Your Lordship, how have you become so thin?”

In response to Lü Bu’s mockery, Cao Cao immediately retorted, “Pacifying chaos and restoring order—my leanness is precisely for the sake of state affairs.”

One could see that this was rather an answer boasting of his leanness. At night he read Confucian classics; in the morning he composed poetry. He extensively perused various texts, built academies for scholarly pursuits in his hometown, established a grand library within his domain, collected military treatises from past and present eras, and even authored works himself—by no means was he solely a man of martial prowess. The sole regret concerning him lay in how his nature as a cunning hero led him in later years to turn a deaf ear to loyal ministers' wise counsel, until he finally arrogated the title of King of Wei and grew bold enough to covet even the Han dynasty's imperial throne. The grand banner of "Revere the Court and Save the People"—which he had maintained since youth as his secret principle when confronting warlords—proved in truth mere lies crafted to seize hegemony, a hypocrisy he himself exposed when it mattered most: during life's twilight years. As for those virtuous ministers who had once lamented openly, "Do even heroes revert to folly in old age?"—most now lay beneath the Nine Springs.

Thus, Wei entered its next generation under the young Cao Pi. Cao Pi had been at Ye Capital’s citadel when his father died. On the day when the grand funeral procession departing Luoyang was welcomed there, he wailed mournfully and bowed before it at the city gate beyond the walls.

II

Cao Pi was the eldest son of the Cao family. Now that he had received his father’s coffin at the Wei King’s Palace in Ye Capital, what bewilderment and grief must he have harbored? A son who had too great a father and was left with too vast a legacy must have been at a loss for what to do—along with the grief of kinship—if only for a time.

Above Wei Palace, clouds hung heavy with sorrow; within the halls, incense smoke failed to herald dawn. Day and night they conducted rites, the sound of wailing shaking the very air.

The description in a certain ancient text was not entirely an exaggeration.

At that moment, Sima Fu, who was in attendance, “Your Highness, this is no time to indulge in idle grief. Moreover, why have the senior ministers on both sides not urged the heir to swiftly establish policies for governing the state through ten thousand generations and calm the people’s hearts?” he rebuked them as though declaring, “You spineless fools!”

The senior ministers responded to this.

“We are well aware of such matters even without your admonition. However, above all else, we must first enthrone the Crown Prince to the position of King of Wei.” “However, unfortunately, the imperial edict permitting this has yet to be issued by the court.” Then Minister of War Chen Jiao stepped forward once more and suddenly raised his voice: “Ah! As ever, the senior ministers’ indecisiveness—such words are frustrating to hear.” “A country cannot endure even a single day without its ruler.” “Now that the King of Wei has passed away and the Crown Prince remains by the royal coffin, even should the imperial edict be delayed, we must immediately enthrone His Highness to the kingship—who would dare refuse to comply? Should any deem this improper and harbor intentions to obstruct it, let them step forth before me and declare their names!”

With that, he drew his sword and glared around. The senior ministers all stared in astonishment; not a soul dared utter another word of protest. At that very moment, Hua Xin—one of the late Cao Cao’s most trusted aides—came galloping on a swift horse from Xuchang. At the announcement that Hua Xin had arrived, all present turned pale, "What has happened?" they wondered, holding their breath in tense anticipation.

When Hua Xin arrived, he first prostrated himself before the late ruler's spirit altar, then performed a hundred bows to Crown Prince Cao Pi. Having completed these rites, he swept his gaze across the assembled ministers filling the hall. "News of the King of Wei's passing has spread throughout the land," he declared. "The people weep as if deprived of sunlight—their hearts too anguished to attend to their duties! You who have gorged yourselves on high salaries for years—what madness keeps you dithering in idleness at this critical hour? Why do you not immediately enthrone the Crown Prince, raise a new political banner, and proclaim Wei's indestructibility to all under heaven?"

he rebuked them. The assembly once again spoke in unison, explaining that they had already deliberated on the matter but were refraining from action as no decree had yet been issued by the Han court.

At this, Hua Xin sneered, “The Han court now lacks any ministers of such talent, and moreover, Xudu has already lost even the capacity to conduct governance. Yet you stand idly by, waiting for an imperial decree—how long do you think that will take? Therefore, I directly compelled the Han court, petitioned the Emperor, and have here received the imperial decree.” With that, Hua Xin took out the imperial edict from his pocket and showed it to the assembly.

“Hearken respectfully.” Hua Xin proclaimed in a resounding voice. The edict’s text proclaimed the great achievements of King of Wei Cao Cao and commanded his heir Cao Pi to succeed to his father’s royal position—it was clearly concluded with the proclamation “Jian’an 25th Year, Spring, Second Month.” Starting with the senior ministers, all present relaxed their brows in joy. Needless to say, this imperial edict had never been the Han Emperor’s true intention. But Hua Xin, sensing the prevailing atmosphere and seeking to firmly plant Wei’s personal authority at this critical juncture, had coerced and forcibly extracted it from the Xudu court.

However, the justification was established. The formalities were completed. Cao Pi hereupon ascended to the position of King of Wei, received the ceremonial congratulations from all officials, and simultaneously proclaimed the news throughout the realm.

At that moment, a lone courier on a swift horse— Lord Cao Zhang, Marquis of Yanling, leading a 100,000-strong army himself, had come from Chang’an— brought this news. Cao Pi grew deeply suspicious,

“What! My brother?”

he was filled with dread even before facing him. Cao Zhang was Cao’s second son and foremost among his brothers in martial prowess and stalwartness. Inferring that [Cao Zhang] might be coming to contend for 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 slender build and overly refined, scholarly sensitivity—though loved—

(He lacks the qualities to succeed me)

he had long held this view.

The fourth son, Cao Xiong, was chronically ill, and the second son, Cao Zhang, though valiant, lacked talent for governance. Thus, he who was deemed worthy to entrust with the succession was none other than his eldest son, Cao Pi. From his parent’s perspective, Cao Pi was sincere and humble, with a touch of the dutiful eldest son’s simplicity—though Cao Cao had bequeathed to his senior vassals that as long as capable ministers assisted him, the Cao family’s future would surely flourish. However, regarding royal succession, even among the brothers themselves there had long been an unspoken assumption that he was the intended heir—particularly given the overt covert struggles among the tutors and retainers attached to each of the late ruler’s sons. Thus when he heard that Cao Zhang—the most hot-tempered of his brothers—had come from Chang’an leading a hundred thousand troops, Cao Pi could not have felt at ease.

“Your Highness need not trouble himself. I have thoroughly comprehended his noble disposition. Let me first go and ascertain his true intentions.”

Having said this, Jia Kui—the Imperial Counselor who had reassured him—hurried out beyond the gates of Wei City. And when he went out to meet Cao Zhang, Cao Zhang took one look at him and immediately said— “What have you done with the late ruler’s seal and cord?” Jia Kui composed his expression and answered. “In a household, there is an eldest son; in a state, there is an heir apparent. The late ruler’s seal and cord naturally reside where they should.” “Dare I ask what your noble intention could be in deliberating upon this matter?”

Cao Zhang fell silent.

When they proceeded to the palace gate, Jia Kui once again drove in a nail there.

“Have you come here today to observe mourning for your late father, or to contend for the royal position? Do you aspire to be a man of loyalty and filial piety, or do you deign to become a traitorous son?”

Cao Zhang said indignantly, “How could I possibly harbor any treacherous intent? I came here to hold my father’s funeral!” “In that case,” Jia Kui countered, “there would be no need for you to enter accompanied by a hundred thousand troops. You must withdraw all your forces from this place at once.” Thus Cao Zhang entered the palace gate alone. When he met his brother Cao Pi, they clasped hands and mourned their father’s death together. From the day Cao Pi succeeded to the position of King of Wei, the era name was changed—Jian’an 25th Year became Yankang 1st Year starting that spring.

Hua Xin was made Prime Minister for his merits, Jia Xu was appointed Grand Commandant, and Wang Lang was promoted to Imperial Censor.

In addition, all officials and military personnel, both high and low, received commendations. On the day when the grand funeral of the late Cao Cao concluded, a special envoy stood at the Gaoling tomb, --From this time forth, he was reverently conferred the posthumous title of Martial Progenitor-- and conducted a ceremonial report to proclaim this.

Now.

After all funeral arrangements had been completed, Prime Minister Hua Xin came before Cao Pi one day and said: “Your younger brother Cao Zhang has already returned to Chang’an after handing over all one hundred thousand cavalry he brought earlier to Wei City, so there is no immediate suspicion toward him. However, your third son Cao Zhi and fourth son Cao Xiong have neither attended their father’s funeral nor sent congratulations for your accession.” “Therefore, it is necessary for Your Highness to issue an imperial edict and punish their crimes.” “You should not leave this matter uninvestigated.”

Cao Pi, heeding these words, immediately issued an imperial 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 reported in tears. “Though his lordship had long been in poor health, when we delivered the edict of condemnation, that very night he hanged himself and met this pitiful end.”

Cao Pi deeply regretted this, but it was too late; he had [Cao Xiong] buried with full honors. Around that time, the envoy who had been dispatched to his third brother Cao Zhi also returned. However, contrary to the previous report, this envoy’s account greatly enraged Cao Pi.

Seven Steps Poem

Part One

The reason Cao Pi was so greatly angered was as follows. What follows is the account of the envoy who had carried the imperial edict to Cao Zhi and returned. “On the day I paid my visit—just as the rumors suggested—the Marquis of Linzi, Lord Cao Zhi, had his favored ministers Ding Yi and Ding Yi in attendance and appeared to have been holding a banquet since the previous night.” “Even if that could be overlooked—upon hearing that an envoy had come bearing an imperial edict from his elder brother, the King of Wei—he should have rinsed his mouth, cleansed his seat, and received me with reverence. Yet he did not rise from his seat, making me pass through the clutter of wine cups and dishes. Furthermore, his subordinate Ding Yi confronted me, the envoy, from the outset, saying… ‘You! Do not wag your tongue recklessly!’” “To begin with, during the late king’s lifetime, there had already been a time when he clearly declared his intention to establish our lord, Lord Cao Zhi, as Crown Prince.” “However, swayed by slanderers’ words, he ultimately passed away without accomplishing that matter. Yet before his grand funeral had even concluded, you sent an envoy of condemnation to our lord Cao Zhi—what is the meaning of this?” “Is Lord Cao Pi truly such a tyrant?” “…Does he not have even a single competent minister among his advisors…?” “…and they berated me in the most extreme terms.” Then, another retainer named Ding Yi also joined in unison. “Do you not know that our lord Cao Zhi surpasses all in scholarly virtue? His poetic talent overflows—when he takes up his brush, he instantly composes chapters and creates gems of literature.” Moreover, he has been endowed with the bearing of a monarch since birth. “The natural endowments differ entirely from those of the Cao Pi whom you serve.” “…and as for you ministers in the court—all dim-eyed fools! How could you possibly distinguish a wise ruler from a tyrant?…” With this headlong denunciation from the very start—not allowing me a word in edgewise—I had no choice but to simply convey the imperial edict and retreat in disarray.”

Thus, Cao Pi’s temporary wrath finally took the form of brothers contending within the walls. Having received his strict command, Xu Chu immediately led over three thousand elite soldiers and stormed Cao Zhi’s stronghold of Linzi. “We are the royal army!” “We act on imperial decree!”

“This is the army acting on the imperial edict!” Xu Chu’s officers shouted in unison as they trampled and slaughtered the gate guards in every direction. Without giving them a moment to resist or fight back, they stormed into the hall where they captured Ding Yi and Ding Yi—who had been feasting that very day—along with their young lord Zhi. They bound them all, loaded them onto carts, and swiftly returned to Wei City in Ye. His face ablaze with loathing, Cao Pi had the group brought before him at the foot of the stairs. No sooner had he cast a glance their way than— “First, execute those two.”

Cao Pi ordered Xu Chu.

Under the flashing sword glare, two heads rolled heedlessly. The balustrades blazed vermilion, and the earth became a crimson spring.

At that moment, hurried footsteps echoed behind Cao Pi as a soul-rending old woman's wail clung to his feet. Cao Zhi—who had lain despondent in a pool of blood after seeing his two retainers beheaded—raised his pallid face and looked up to find Lady Bian, the birth mother who had borne him and his brothers. "Ah... Mother!" Cao Zhi instinctively stretched upward like an infant begging mercy, thrusting out pleading hands. The old mother fixed him with tear-glazed eyes that burned with reproach—

“Zhi… Why did you not attend the late king’s grand funeral? There exists none so unfilial as you!” Vehemently scolding him thus, Lady Bian kept her grip on Cao Pi’s robes unrelenting, “Pi! Pi! Hear this mother’s plea—I beg you by all future mercies, grant this lifelong entreaty!” With that, she dragged her own son into the side hall’s shadow and implored Cao Pi through tears that drenched her aged eyes near to bursting—pleading he spare Zhi’s life through bonds of brotherhood.

“There, there… Please don’t grieve so deeply.” “Oh, come now. I never had any intention of killing my brother.” “It was merely to discipline him.” Cao Pi secluded himself deep within the palace and for several days did not show his face even at morning court sessions where governance was conducted. Hua Xin quietly came and inquired after his mood. And then, taking advantage of the conversation, “The other day, did Her Ladyship not say something? ‘Do not abolish Cao Zhi’—did she not express such a will?” “Where did you hear that, Chancellor?”

“No, I would never stoop to eavesdropping—that much is perfectly clear. But as for Your Majesty’s determination—what exactly it might be—that I have yet to understand.”

Two

Hua Xin continued pressing his point. "Your esteemed younger brother's talent is extraordinary. If left unchecked, those around him will elevate him as a dragon confined to a pond." "If you do not remove him now, he will grow into an immense calamity." "But... I already made a vow to Mother." "I swore to Her Ladyship..." "What precisely did you swear?" "That I would never take action to depose my younger brother Cao Zhi..."

“Why would you do such a thing?” Hua Xin clicked his tongue. “Even without this, they all say the Cao family’s brilliance lies in your brother Zhi—that when he opens his mouth, his words form chapters and his spittle turns to pearls. With all due respect, does not this public opinion implicitly tarnish your virtues as his elder brother?” “But there’s no need for that.”

“No, no. “How about we play it like this…” Hua Xin leaned close to his lord’s ear and whispered. Cao Pi’s face betrayed his jealousy toward his brother’s innate talent. The sycophant’s flattering words struck precisely at the young ruler’s vulnerability.

His contrived wisdom was as follows: summon Cao Zhi there immediately and test his poetic talent; if it proved unsatisfactory, they were to use that pretext to kill him. If he demonstrated talent matching the rumors, demote his official rank and title, exile him to a distant region, and make an example of those who indulged solely in poetry and prose during that age of urgent state affairs—this would be advisable. Was this not a strategy that killed two birds with one stone? “Very well,” “Summon him at once.”

At Cao Pi’s summons, Zhi, trembling with fear, was led to his elder brother’s chamber. Pi declared with forced coldness: “Enough, Brother—no, Cao Zhi. Under ordinary house law, we are brothers; under state law, it is ruler and subject. Listen with that understanding!” “Yes.” “Since our late father loved poetry and prose, you often composed verses to flatter him, becoming his favorite among us brothers—yet even then, others whispered privately. ‘Zhi’s poems—those aren’t his own work,’ they said. ‘He keeps a master poet at his side to ghostwrite them.’ In truth, I too harbor these doubts. Whether falsehood or truth, today I shall test that talent here. If my suspicions prove unfounded, I shall spare your life. But should they hold true, I will immediately judge your crime of having long deceived our late father. Have you any objections?”

Then Cao Zhi suddenly relaxed his furrowed brows, "Yes. There are none." he answered reverently.

Cao Pi pointed at the large-format 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 antiquated calligraphic style. Two bulls fight beneath the mast; one falls into a well and dies. Though bearing this inscribed commentary, he presented Zhi with the daunting challenge of composing a poem about battling bulls without using a single character from that inscription. “Please grant me paper and a brush.”

Having made this request, Zhi immediately composed a poem and presented it to his brother. Without using either the character for 'cow' or 'fight,' an excellent poem about battling bulls had been composed.

Cao Pi and his many vassals clicked their tongues in astonishment at his talent. Hua Xin hurriedly retrieved something written from beneath the desk and secretly passed it into Cao Pi’s hand. When Cao Pi abruptly lowered his gaze to look at it, he immediately raised his voice and issued the next challenge. “Zhi! Stand—and take seven steps in this room. If you fail to compose a poem within those seven steps, know that your head will fall to the floor on the eighth.”

"Yes..." Zhi turned toward the wall and began to walk. One step, two steps, three steps... And with each step, he lamented: "When boiling beans, they burn the beanstalks. Beans in the cauldron weep. We are born from the same root, Why must you press me so hard and swift?" "…………" Even Cao Pi finally shed tears, and all the assembled officials wept.

Poetry plays upon the heartstrings of men and stirs their blood. Cao Zhi's poem saved Cao Zhi's life. That very day, demoted to Marquis of Anxiang, he entrusted his solitary shadow to a horse's back and dejectedly departed from his elder brother's Wei King palace.

Severing Personal Ties

I

Liu Bei, King of Hanzhong, turned exactly sixty years old this spring, in Jian'an 25th Year. He was six years younger than Cao Cao of Wei.

The news of Cao Cao's death had already reached Chengdu, and in Xuande's heart—having lost his longtime formidable rival—there must have lingered a touch of desolation. As he reflected on this titanic foe, a giant worthy of respect even as an enemy, and their shared history of countless battles,

"I too have reached sixty years of age."

And he must have been unable to help but anticipate that which would inevitably come upon him as well before long.

As people age, they become short-tempered—this common human trait may stem in no small part from such unconscious psychological factors contributing to it. Liu Bei was no exception to this; his determination to subjugate Wu, destroy Wei, and see his ideals realized while he still drew breath had grown ever more urgent with advancing age.

At this time in Wei, where Cao Pi had ascended to the kingship and reports of increasingly rampant disregard for the imperial court were heard, Liu Bei one day gathered his civil and military officials at a palace in Chengdu, where he vehemently denounced Wei's iniquity and mourned the late Guan Yu,

“First, I intend to turn toward Wu and avenge Lord Guan Yu’s death; then, pivoting, strike down the arrogant Wei with a single blow. What are your thoughts?” he consulted the assembly.

The people's eyes gleamed.

By now, Shu’s national power had fully recovered, and its military had not neglected training in preparation for days of emergency. Those were eyes that showed a will with which none disagreed.

At that moment, Liao Hua stepped forward and said: "It was our own allies Liu Feng and Meng Da who let Lord Guan Yu be slain by the enemy. Before taking vengeance upon Wu, we must first properly punish those two men—otherwise our campaign of retribution will lose its meaning." Xuande nodded deeply. "I too have never forgotten that matter for a single day," he declared. He immediately vowed to issue summons for Liu Feng and Meng Da to punish them, but Kongming at his side admonished: "Nay—issuing urgent summons would surely invite rebellion. I counsel first transferring both men to provincial governorships. Your Majesty may then deliberate their disposition at leisure." Motives for rebellion always spring from such precipitous actions. Truly, all present marveled at Kongming's perspicacity.

However, among the officials present that day was a man named Peng Yi. He and Meng Da had always been very close. After the council concluded, he seemed to hurriedly leave the castle, but upon returning home, he immediately composed a letter,

(Your life is in danger. Even if the transfer order arrives, do not let your guard down. The Guan Yu issue has reignited.)

and 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, but as a precaution, decided to visit Peng Yi’s residence to ascertain his condition. Peng Yi, completely unaware, “What a pleasant surprise to have you visit!” served wine and detained him, drinking heartily until late into the night, but eventually found himself drawn into speaking by Ma Chao’s leading words, "If Meng Da of Shangyong raises the banner of revolt, you should rise in support from Chengdu." "Even an unworthy one like myself, Peng Yi, has ample chances of victory. "A great man like yourself surely wouldn’t remain content forever as a mere watchdog at Shu’s gates."

...and so on—he ended up passionately venting the emotions buried deep within his chest.

The following 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 torture for investigation. Peng Yi, filled with deep regret, sent a letter of repentance from prison to Kongming, appealing to his compassion and pleading for help. Xuande also saw the petition, “What should we do, Military Advisor?” he asked, appearing half-convinced to show mercy. But Kongming coldly shook his head,

“Such complaints must be dismissed as a madman’s ravings. Those with treason in their bones may feign gratitude temporarily, but their rebellion will inevitably resurface.”

Contrary to expectations, he suddenly passed judgment and that very night condemned Peng Yi to death. The execution of Peng Yi caused Meng Da, stationed in a distant land, to now come to realize the imminent peril he himself faced. It appeared that he had long harbored intentions of defection, and his subordinates—the brothers Shen Dan and Shen Yi—

"They urged their lord to defect to Wei, saying, 'If we flee to Wei, Cao Pi will surely value us highly,' and without informing Liu Feng, who was in the same castle, they absconded in the dead of night with just fifty or sixty cavalrymen."

II Liu Feng heard of Meng Da’s defection after daybreak, but with a face that still could not fully believe it, "All his subordinates remain intact, and he showed no unusual signs yesterday. "He must have gone out hunting or something."

But even when his left and right ministers presented concrete evidence of suspicion, he dismissed it with a "Surely not...?" With nothing more than that utterance, he remained composed.

Then, from the border palisade gate, a fast courier came galloping in. The report stated that approximately fifty cavalrymen had breached the checkpoint and entered Wei. Realizing this, he panicked and hurriedly assembled his troops. Liu Feng himself led the pursuit and gave chase, but by then it was too late, and he returned empty-handed.

"Why on earth would Meng Da abandon his position and army to defect to Wei?" Liu Feng, still oblivious to everything, had merely remained puzzled by his motives when an urgent messenger from Chengdu arrived bearing the King of Hanzhong’s command: "Meng Da’s treachery stands plain."

"Why do you stand idly by?" "Immediately raise the troops of Shangyong and Mianzhu, denounce his disloyalty, and take his head," he decreed. This was part of Kongming’s profound stratagem. While Xuande had intended to dispatch the Shu army from Chengdu to settle the matter, Kongming deemed this approach less than optimal. He argued that by ordering Liu Feng to pursue Meng Da—whether victorious or defeated in battle—Liu Feng would have no choice but to return to Chengdu, at which point dealing with him would also serve as the most effective 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 capable general but still harbored doubts, "I do not believe Xuande particularly mistreated you. For what reason, then, have you come to Wei?" he questioned.

Meng Da responded, "When Lord Guan Yu's army was annihilated, my former lord Xuande continues to relentlessly blame me for failing to rescue Maicheng." "I learned through reports from Chengdu that he believes it was I, Meng Da, who abandoned Guan Yu to die and now harbors malice toward me."

Just then, an urgent report arrived from the Xiangyang front. The report stated that Liu Feng, leading over fifty thousand troops, had invaded the border and was advancing while burning down various locations. Cao Pi thought this would be an appropriate battle to test Meng Da’s loyalty. “In Xiangyang,” he declared, “our Xiahou Shang and Xu Huang are stationed—there’s no cause for concern. But as a trial, you shall reinforce our allies there and bring me Liu Feng’s head.” “How to treat you will be decided afterward,” Cao Pi concluded, first appointing 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 forces had already advanced to within eighty li of the suburbs. He drafted a letter, dispatched a military envoy, and instructed him to take it to Liu Feng’s camp with the demand: “Bring back a reply.” When Liu Feng received and opened it, he found the following message couched in amicable terms: “Due to certain considerations, I have become a subject of Wei. How about you also surrender to Wei and secure future wealth and honor? Though you and the King of Hanzhong share a bond as adoptive father and son, you are originally the son of Luo Houzi. The Liu clan’s succession has already been assumed by the King of Hanzhong’s biological son. While your standing remains clear, why not move to Wei and revive the old lineage of Luo Houzi?”

Liu Feng tore the letter to pieces and threw it away the moment he finished reading.

"Until today, I still retained some shred of friendship for him, but now that I know he is a villain who advocates such disloyalty and unfilialness, it makes it easier to cut ties decisively."

He beheaded the military envoy and immediately advanced his troops toward Xiangyang Castle.

But Liu Feng’s battles resulted in defeat both that day and the next. At the enemy’s vanguard, Meng Da would always appear and fiercely pummel Liu Feng’s forces. Moreover, Xiangyang Castle housed Xu Huang—renowned as Wei’s valiant general—and Xiahou Shang as well; they simply stood no chance against them.

Having suffered repeated crushing defeats, Liu Feng's army was surrounded by the enemy's three generals and sustained annihilating blows. They finally fled in disarray to Shangyong, only to find the city had already been occupied by Wei forces at some point—a pitiable state of affairs. In the end, he had no choice but to flee back to Chengdu, leading a mere remnant of over a hundred cavalrymen. Kongming's foresight had proven correct.

III

When Xuande heard from his courtiers that Liu Feng had been defeated and returned, "Do not bring him up to the hall. “Keep him detained at the foot of the stairs.”" Having given these orders to the attendants, he exchanged a glance with Kongming and let out a quiet sigh.

He dragged his heavy feet to the front pavilion, looked down at his adopted son Liu Feng prostrating below, and spoke. “Brat! What face do you have to return here?”

Liu Feng finally raised his face. “Not rescuing Uncle [Guan Yu] from peril was entirely against my will. “At that time, because Meng Da stubbornly refused, I ended up being swayed by his words and, against my true feelings, did not send reinforcements either.”

Before Liu Bei could say a word about the matter, he began to make excuses. Xuande furrowed his brows in anger. “Shut up! I have no ear for such excuses now. You may well be a human who eats what others eat and wears what others wear, yet to agree with Meng Da’s sophistry and stand by idly as your benefactor uncle was left to die—are you a dog or a beast? You are utterly contemptible! Stand up! Begone! You are a vile sight!” Finally, he scolded him with increasing severity, yet when he thought of the child he had raised for so many years, his personal feelings seemed to stand apart. His eyes brimming with tears, he kept his face turned aside and never again looked directly at the child below the stairs.

“...This is entirely my incompetence.” “No—it was a grave error.” “I implore you—grant me forgiveness just this once.” “This shows the depth of my sincerity!” Liu Feng wept as he pressed his forehead to the ground dozens of times. Yet Xuande kept his face turned aside. He steeled himself like unfeeling wood or stone, suppressing personal affections as though they were enemies. Soon Liu Feng’s wails and sobs erupted like an infant’s. Even Xuande’s heart was rent by that voice. At last, his wrathful brows began transforming into a father’s compassionate visage.

“…………” Then, Kongming, who until then had been silently observing Xuande’s state, steadied his crumbling resolve with a firm gaze. He compensated for the deficiency of will with his own resolve.

Xuande suddenly stood up, “Warriors! Drag out this whelp and behead him at once.” No sooner had he barked this command to the ministers on either side than he sank his face as if fleeing and sequestered himself in a rear chamber. Shut away, he sat despondently facing the wall alone. Then, an old vice-minister timidly approached and said, “Regarding Lord Liu Feng, when this humble one inquired in detail among the subordinates who retreated from the Xiangyang battlefield, it was said that Lord Liu Feng had already deeply regretted his past transgressions from his time in Shangyong, and after Meng Da fled to Wei, his state of unbearable shame grew all the more.” “Moreover, on the Xiangyang battlefield, when a letter urging surrender arrived from Meng Da, he tore it to pieces and immediately beheaded the envoy before pressing forward with the battle. Thus, one can well understand his state of mind thereafter.” “We, your subjects, implore you all the more earnestly to somehow bestow your merciful compassion upon him.”

Even without this plea, Xuande had already been in a state where he could not help but want to save [Liu Feng]. At the very moment he wished someone would say such words, he heard these very ones,

Ah, so even he possessed a sliver of conscience. It seems he had some small grasp of what loyalty and filial piety mean. "Pitiful wretch—it need not go so far as killing him." As if stumbling, he went out into the corridor. And abruptly, he sent the old vice-minister hurrying to convey the pardon.

However, right at their encounter, several warriors had already beheaded Liu Feng and brought his head before them. The moment Xuande saw it, “Wh-what? Has he already been executed?” “I—of all people—have let anger sway me and caused the death of my own trusted vassal.” “Ah, how tragic!” he muttered like a madman and lamented so violently he could scarcely keep his footing.

At that moment, Kongming arrived and guided the inconsolable him into a private chamber. And then, in a calm voice,

“I understand your feelings well.” “Even Kongming is not made of wood or stone.” “...But if we consider our nation’s enduring plans—what worth lies in grieving over one wretched youth?” “Should you revert to common frailty upon meeting such petty sorrow, how shall we ever establish the foundation for our grand enterprise?” “This is a maiden’s sentiment.” “Let your own tears become your own mockery.” “You are His Highness the King of Hanzhong.”

“………”

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

Era Change

1

In Wei, they changed the era name from Jian'an 25th Year to Yankang 1st Year that same year. Moreover, in the summer month of June, Wei King Cao Pi undertook a royal tour. He visited Qiao County in Pei, the hometown of his late father Cao Cao, resolved to hold a memorial service at his ancestors’ graves, accompanied by a retinue of civil and military officials, and guarded by three hundred thousand elite troops.

Officials and commoners along the road swept the path and prostrated themselves before the ceremonial procession. Especially in their hometown of Qiao County, they came out to the roadside, offered wine, and laid out rice cakes, "There is the example of Emperor Gaozu returning to his hometown in Pei, but even that could not have been as grand as this," they celebrated together. However, Cao Pi’s stay proved exceedingly brief, and he departed immediately after the memorial service, leaving the townspeople strangely deflated. This was because he had received word that Old Xiahou Dun lay critically ill, but by the time Cao Pi returned to his domain, Great General Xiahou Dun had already died.

Cao Pi, displaying filial piety at the East Gate, buried this meritorious retainer from his father’s time with full honors.

"They say misfortunes come in threes, but in these six months since New Year's, it seems we've done nothing but funerals and memorials."

Cao Pi muttered this, and his courtiers too were somewhat troubled, but after August, nothing but strange auspicious occurrences continued one after another. “It was said that a phoenix had descended upon the rural areas of Shiyi County.” "In the year of the era change, they proclaimed it a great auspicious omen, and representatives from the county’s people came to offer their congratulations." No sooner had the attendant relayed this and pleased Cao Pi than several days passed, “It was said that a qilin had appeared in Linzi, and the citizens put it into a cage and presented it at the city gate.”

Then, again, in late autumn, in a certain area of Ye Commandery, a Yellow Dragon was said to have appeared. It spread through word of mouth from no one in particular—some claimed to have seen it, others denied it—and became a heated topic of debate. Strangely enough, alongside those rumors, Wei’s hereditary retainers began gathering daily within the council chambers, “Now, Heaven bestows an auspicious sign.” “This is none other than a revelation that Wei should replace Han and govern the realm.” “We must urge the King of Wei and persuade the Han Emperor to enact the grand reform of abdication.”

Thus inventing arbitrary justifications, they openly deliberated their grand conspiracy to seize the imperial throne for Wei.

Led by Palace Attendants Liu Yi, Xin Pi, and Liu Ye; Directors of the Imperial Secretariat Huan Kai, Chen Jiao, and Chen Qun; along with over forty civil and military court officials—they finally carried a joint petition and went about persuading three senior ministers: Grand Commandant Jia Xu, Chancellor Hua Xin, and Censor-in-Chief Wang Lang.

“No, what you gentlemen are thinking is something we have long held in our hearts,” they replied. “With there being the late King Wu’s final testament as well, His Majesty the King of Wei would likely have no objections.” The words of the three senior ministers aligned as if their tally tokens had been matched. Judging by their tone, it seemed neither the appearance of the qilin nor the dance of the phoenix had manifested in distant regions—these omens had likely emerged from between the very brows of those senior ministers themselves. But whether a gourd might produce a colt or a Yellow Dragon might emerge from council chambers—in China, such things were hardly considered strange. The populace favored miracles. They predominantly supported theories affirming phoenixes’ existence over those denying it. When revering the imperial court or contemplating the throne, the people of this continent held notions no more substantial than their beliefs in Yellow Dragons and Phoenixes. Even clear-minded upper-class individuals, drawing upon their nation’s history, provided era-adapted interpretations—attributing all human endeavors to celestial signs and auspicious omens, thereby fostering momentum and advancing their machinations.

Wang Lang, Hua Xin, Lieutenant-General Li Fu, Grand Historian’s Assistant Xu Zhi, and other Wei officials finally made their way to the inner palace of Xudu, “Though it pains us to speak thus,” Hua Xin declared, “the Han dynasty’s mandate has expired. Your Imperial Majesty must cede the throne to the King of Wei and yield to Heaven’s decree.” They prostrated themselves in formal petition—or rather, it would be truer to say they besieged the Emperor’s palace gates, their ranks of official caps forming an unbroken chain of coercion.

2

His Majesty was still thirty-nine years of age. Since being enthroned at nine years old by Dong Zhuo to assume the imperial throne of the myriad chariots, he had relocated the capital multiple times amidst the flames of war and hails of stray arrows, tasted hunger on thorn-covered roads, and eventually established the capital at Xuchang. Yet even when peaceful days finally came to Later Han’s court and ancestral temples, Cao Cao’s tyranny did not cease—Wei officials’ insolence, courtiers’ oppression, and a court that existed in name alone persisted. Among all Eastern Han emperors through successive generations, there were few who had received as meager a share of Heaven’s blessings as Emperor Xian. His life could only be described as one of constant upheaval and ill fortune.

Moreover, now, he was being compelled by Wei’s vassals to accept an unthinkable demand—one that no subject should ever dare voice. What must have been in his heart? Of course, the Emperor had no reason to immediately consent to such a thing. “We may have lacked virtue and must blame none but Ourself, but though I am unworthy, how could I bear to cast aside the great enterprise of Our ancestors? Just deliberate your grand plans among yourselves.” With those words briefly declared, His Majesty retreated to the inner palace.

Hua Xin, Li Fu, and their ilk continued to attend court without cease, expounding on auspicious omens of qilin and phoenixes, and also— “We, your subjects, have observed the celestial signs at night: the vitality of Flame Han has already waned, the Imperial Star dims its light, while the celestial signs of the King of Wei, in contrast, reach to the heavens and encompass the earth.” “This is precisely the sign that Wei should replace Han.” “The calendar officials of the Directorate of Astronomy all report the same,” they pressed using calendrical calculations, and at times even— “In ancient times, the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors relinquished the imperial throne based on virtue, and it was customary for those without virtue to yield to those with virtue. Even if one does not submit to the natural order, they will inevitably bring about their own destruction or be driven out by the forces destined to become the next emperor.” “The Han dynasty has already endured four hundred years—this is by no means due to Your Majesty’s lack of virtue, but rather because you have naturally encountered this juncture in time.” “I humbly advise Your Majesty to take care not to deeply apply Your Sagely Deliberation there, lest you invite hesitation or invite calamity.”

They bandied about such unconscionably self-serving arguments and even veiled threats. However, the Emperor remained resolute. "Matters of auspicious omens and celestial phenomena are all but baseless rumors not worth heeding," he declared unequivocally. "They are falsehoods!" "Emperor Gaozu raised his three-foot sword, destroyed Qin and Chu, and it has reached Us over four hundred years. How could I lightly cast aside this imperishable foundation?" He resolutely rejected their cunning arguments, still showing no sign of yielding.

But during this time, the King of Wei’s might, along with the temptations of his gold and honors, had been seeping in and working to corrode the inner court officials. Even without such inducements, those loyal ministers who truly cared for the Han court had mostly perished—some having grown decrepit with age, others driven into retirement—leaving not a single person of substance remaining.

In overwhelming numbers, only those who flattered Wei’s authority, trembled in fear, and—though court officials—attended solely to Wei’s every breath remained. Whether it was due to this or not, in recent days, even when the Emperor attended court, those among the court officials—civil and military officers alike—who failed to appear had swelled in number day by day. Some claimed illness, others cited ancestral memorial days, and still others absented themselves from their posts without notice—those who did so were truly vast in number. No, in the end, the Emperor was left utterly alone.

“Ah… What am I to do?”

The Emperor sat alone, tears streaming down his face. Then Empress Cao approached softly from behind him,

“Your Majesty.” “A messenger from my brother Cao Pi has come, demanding that I present myself immediately.” “I pray you do not harm Your Imperial Majesty’s health.”

Having said that with implied meaning, she began to leave gracefully. The Emperor immediately perceived that the Empress would not return, “Would even you abandon Us and return to the House of Cao?”

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

“Your Majesty! Why do You refuse to heed Your servant’s counsel and avert calamity? Not only Her Majesty’s affairs—if You persist thus, disaster shall descend upon Your Majesty with each passing moment!” He now stood arrogantly without performing the bowing ritual.

Three

What inhumanity! What insolence! Even the ever-forbearing Emperor Xian trembled and was enraged. “As Our subjects, what manner of words are these? We, having ascended the throne over thirty years ago, have diligently governed throughout that time, and even in passing moments do not recall having once ordered tyrannical policies. If there are those in the realm who resent today’s governance, both heaven and mankind well know this stems solely from Wei’s high-handed domination. Who would resent Us and wish calamity upon the Han court?”

At that moment, Hua Xin also raised his voice and grabbed the hem of the imperial robe,

“Your Majesty.” “Do not persist in such delusions.” “We subjects would never utter disloyal words.” “It is precisely out of loyalty that we advise you to avert any potential calamity.” “Now, only a single word from Your Majesty will suffice.” “Here and now, kindly convey your decision to your subjects.” “Whether you consent or refuse—” “…………”

The Emperor clenched his quivering lips and maintained his silence.

At that moment, Hua Xin shot a sharp glance at Wang Lang, so the Emperor brushed the sleeve of his robe and suddenly rushed into the inner chamber of the palace. Suddenly, throughout the palace, the sound of hurried footsteps began to resound chaotically. When one looked around, Cao Xiu and Cao Hong—relatives of Wei—had leapt onto the palace steps with their swords still at their sides, “Where is the Seal Custodian?! Seal Custodian! Seal Custodian!” “Seal Custodian! Seal Custodian!” they bellowed, searching frantically. The Seal Custodian was the official title responsible for guarding the Imperial Seal and other treasures of the imperial house. A dignified elderly court official approached the two men without a trace of fear.

“I am Zu Bi, the Seal Custodian…?” “Hmph. “Are you the one who holds the office of Seal Custodian?” “Take out the Imperial Seal and hand it over to us.” “Are you truly in your right minds to speak such words?” “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 knows! The Imperial Seal is the divine treasure of the Son of Heaven! How dare subjects’ hands presume to touch it? You base curs who know neither propriety nor decorum—remove your shoes and retreat from these steps at once!” he rebuked. Hong and Xiu, enraged, immediately dragged Zu Bi out into the courtyard, beheaded him, and threw his corpse into the pond. Wei soldiers who had already breached the forbidden gates wore armor and gripped halberds, filling every corner of the southern halls’ gardens and northern annexes.

The Emperor hurriedly gathered his courtiers, his imperial eyes stained with blood-tinged tears, and with a voice trembling with tragic resolve, proclaimed to all present: “To bring ruin to the great enterprise passed down through successive generations since our ancestors—in Our reign—what lack of virtue could have caused this?” “Even in the Yellow Springs below, I have no face to present myself before the ancestral emperors—yet how can I help it? Matters have finally come to this.” “Henceforth, I shall abdicate the throne to the King of Wei and withdraw into seclusion, devoting myself solely to prayers for the peace and stability of all people…”

Jade tears streamed down his cheeks, and together with the courtiers' stifled sobs, for a time the place resembled a late autumn pond drenched by relentless rain. Then Wei official Jia Xu strode boldly into the chamber. "Ah! Your Majesty has graciously resolved yourself!" "Your Majesty!" "Issue the edict without delay and avert bloodshed beneath the palace gates before it occurs!" he urged. Though the Emperor had issued the imperial decree approving this monumental abdication of state, he remained overcome by tears. Yet Jia Xu immediately summoned Huan Kai and Chen Qun to forcibly draft the abdication edict, then commanded Hua Xin as envoy to present it along with the Imperial Seal.

Proclaiming, “The imperial envoy proceeds to the Wei King’s palace,” he departed from the forbidden gate. Of course, they took all the court officials as their attendants and departed with a magnificent procession, strictly adhering to the Emperor’s will—so to the common people along the route, Wei’s wicked deeds within the palace were not easily revealed.

“They’ve arrived.”

Cao Pi must have smirked to himself. Upon receiving the edict, he appeared about to answer, “I shall immediately accept the abdication,” when Sima Yi hurriedly— “You must not. “You must not accept it so readily,” he admonished.

IV

Even if you desire something beyond measure, you must not reach for it at once. In all matters, it is considered proper etiquette to first decline multiple times with humility—what is called “repeatedly refusing”—and then accept. To deceive the realm’s censure, would it not be prudent to solemnly exaggerate one’s humility and ceremonial refusals? —Sima Zhongda conveyed this to his lord Cao Pi with his eyes. Cao Pi immediately grasped the meaning, “I am not one born for such a role. Only the true Son of Heaven may govern the realm.”

With words utterly contrary to his true intent, he replied to the imperial envoy, reverently had the court draft a memorial, and temporarily returned the Imperial Seal. Upon hearing the envoy's reply, the Emperor fell into deep perplexity. He looked around at his attendants, "Cao Pi refuses to accept." "What should be done?" At this, his imperial brows even seemed to relax slightly, as if drawing comfort from that refusal.

Hua Xin did not leave the Emperor's side. He immediately submitted as follows: “In ancient times during Emperor Yao’s reign, there were two imperial daughters named Ehuang and Nüying. When Yao sought to abdicate the throne to Shun, Shun refused to accept it. Therefore, Emperor Yao had his two imperial daughters wed to King Shun and later abdicated the throne to him... Your Majesty. Bestow your wise discernment.” Emperor Xian was once again seen to wear an expression of being unable to do anything about his bitter tears. Having no alternative, the following day he once again appointed High Temple Envoy Zhang Yin as imperial envoy, had his two beloved imperial princesses board a carriage, and with the Imperial Seal presented, sent them to proceed to the Wei King’s palace.

Cao Pi was greatly delighted. But once again, his strategist Jia Xu stood by his side,

“You must not.” He shook his head with a look that seemed to say, “Not yet.” After fruitlessly sending back the envoy, Cao Pi puffed up his face slightly and interrogated him. “Even with the precedent of Yao and Shun, why did you tell me to refuse again this time?” “Is there truly still such need for haste?” “Jia Xu’s apprehension exists solely to forestall public censure—should wise men across the realm unite in condemning how ‘the Cao family’s son has at last usurped the imperial throne,’ it would invite dreadful consequences.”

“So, are we to wait for a third imperial envoy?”

“No, no—this time we should quietly convey our intentions to Hua Xin. That is to say, we should have Hua Xin construct a high platform, name it the Abdication Altar, select an auspicious month and day, and conduct a grand ceremony where the Emperor himself presents the Imperial Seal to abdicate the throne to the King of Wei.” Truly, Wei’s usurpation was carried out with such meticulous care.

The Abdication Altar was completed in the tenth month of that year at Fanyang, a site chosen through divination. The three-tiered platform and four ceremonial gates were resplendently decorated. Several thousand officials from the imperial court and princely residence, 8,000 Imperial Forest troops, and over 300,000 Tiger Guard soldiers stood arrayed beneath the platform amidst a forest of banners and pennants. Beyond these, Xiongnu 'black youths' and people from beyond the civilized realm—indeed, all those of rank in service to the princely residence—were honored to witness this grand ceremony.

On the gengwu day of the tenth month. The Hour of the Tiger.

On this day, thin clouds seemed to fill the sky, and the sun hung coldly crimson.

Emperor Xian took his place upon the platform. And then, the Emperor read out the edict of abdication that would transfer the imperial throne to the King of Wei. The imperial voice remained hoarse throughout, trembling intermittently.

Cao Pi, after performing the Eight-Plate Grand Rite ceremony, ascended the platform to receive the Imperial Seal, and the Emperor, accompanied by former court officials of all ranks, descended the steps while concealing his imperial tears.

Music that deceived all the voices of heaven and earth swelled up simultaneously, roaring loud enough to deafen the ears. The cheers shook the clouds.

That evening, large hailstones fell like stones.

Cao Pi, namely the Emperor of Wei, proclaimed, "Henceforth, our state shall be named Great Wei," and changed the era name to Huangchu First Year. The late Cao Cao was posthumously honored with the title Emperor Taizu of Martial Virtue.

Here, the pitiable one was Emperor Xian. The Wei Emperor’s envoy mercilessly visited his residence, "By His Majesty’s benevolence, He cannot bear to kill you. You are hereby enfeoffed as Duke of Shanyang." "Proceed to Shanyang this very day, and do not enter the capital again."

conveyed this harsh decree. The Duke, accompanied by a few former vassals, was mounted on a single donkey and departed despondently for the countryside beneath the winter sky.

Shu followed suit.

One

Upon hearing that Cao Pi had ascended to the position of Great Wei Emperor, Xuande in Chengdu of Shu lamented in grief and indignation, "What is this?!" as he bitterly resented day and night the world turned upside down. Word came that Emperor Xian, who had been driven from the capital, had passed away in a provincial region the following year. Xuande lamented even more bitterly, secretly conducting memorial services and humbly conferring the posthumous title of Emperor Xiao Min, remaining deeply secluded and often neglecting governmental affairs. Having entrusted everything to Kongming, his appetite had lately grown exceedingly poor.

"It was truly troubling," he thought. From domestic governance to anxieties about Shu's future, problems had accumulated in Kongming's mind beyond what even he could fully comprehend.

But Xuande was sixty-one. He was still young at forty-one. Moreover, he was a man of great patience and forbearance. He upheld the maxim: "A hundred forbearances free one from sorrow." He himself, "This is simply my innate nature," he seemed to console himself alone amid his hardships.

He was not a man of much activity. He did not speak much, and if anything, he even had a somewhat gloomy air about him. Thus, even when Xuande secluded himself, he too appeared worn down by hardships and despondent. At first glance, he appeared almost as if incompetent. However, the real him 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 innate nature.)—such was the reason he had for consoling himself.

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

"While casting my nets at night in the Xiang River," he said, "a beam of light appeared, and this object rose from the riverbed." Having brought the item all the way to Shu, he presented it to Zhuge Liang.

It was a golden seal.

Golden and brilliant, on its surface were carved eight characters in seal script. It was read as follows. 受命于天　既寿永昌

The moment Zhuge Liang laid eyes on it, he was greatly astonished, "This is indeed the true Hereditary Imperial Seal." "During the great turmoil in Luoyang, it was taken from the Han imperial house and has long been reported missing—this must surely be that treasure seal." "Therefore, the one that reached Cao Pi must surely be a later fabrication created by the court."

He hastily summoned Grand Tutor Xu Jing, Palace Counselor Qiao Zhou, and others, ordering them to investigate historical precedents. The people heard of this and, "This must surely be a heavenly revelation that our lord, being a scion of the Han dynasty, should rightfully inherit its legitimate succession," they proclaimed, while those who habitually invoked celestial omens for every matter added, "Come to think of it, these past nights have seen an auspicious radiance ascending nightly in Chengdu's northwestern skies." Thus they expounded their interpretations.

In short, the momentum that Kongming envisioned had largely swelled throughout Shu. One day, he attended the chamber of the Prince of Hanzhong alongside his various ministers and, “Now is precisely the time for Your Majesty to ascend the imperial throne, rectify the Han dynasty’s legitimate succession, console the spirits of the ancestral temple, and thereby bring peace to all the people.” he proposed the discussion of establishing an emperor.

Xuande was aghast,

"Do you intend to make this emperor a disloyal and unrighteous man for all generations to come?!" he raged furiously. Kongming straightened his collar, “I do not equate the traitorous son Cao Pi with Your Majesty.” “Who in all the world can properly punish the grave crime of regicide such as he has committed?” “Is there none other than Your Majesty—being Emperor Jing’s direct descendant—who could accomplish this?” "But I am but a village commoner from Zhuojun who has fallen among the ranks of subjects." "Throughout all under heaven and across every shore of this land," "Before I have even exercised a single act of kingly virtue—even if the Later Han court has fallen—if I were to succeed it, I would surely incur infamy like Cao Pi." "Do not speak of this again." “This emperor has no such aspiration.”

Xuande absolutely would not listen.

Kongming silently withdrew. And from that point onward, claiming illness, he ceased to appear at any political councils whatsoever.

“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 his illness.

II

Zhuge Liang rose from his sickbed with trepidation, changed into clean robes, and went to receive Xuande. The moment Liu Bei entered the sickroom, he urgently said: "You should have stayed lying down! If you aggravate your illness through exertion, this visit meant to comfort you will instead cause harm." "Military Strategist, dispense with formalities. Lie back down."

"This is too great an honor. “Your Highness’s personal visit to this humble servant’s abode alone is an honor beyond measure, yet to personally attend to this unsightly invalid’s bedside—I find myself at a loss for words.” “You’ve gotten a bit thinner, I see.” “How is your appetite?” “It does not improve much.” “What exactly is this illness?” “It is mental anguish.” “As for my body, I believe there is no illness.” "A malady of the heart?" "I can only beg for Your Highness’s wise discernment."

Kongming covered his eyes. And no matter how much Xuande pressed him, he would only answer that while there was no physical ailment, the malady of his heart now seemed to be consuming him. “Military Strategist, are you saying that this emperor’s rejection of your recent counsel has become the cause of your distress?” “Indeed. Your servant, since leaving my thatched cottage over ten years ago, has served you with my humble talents. Now that we have taken Bashu, I feel as though a fragment of my ideal has at last been realized. However, now that we have laid the foundation for ten thousand generations and seek to make this grand enterprise, this brilliance, endure eternally—what could Your Majesty’s thoughts be? At this critical juncture, you seem to fear the world’s vulgar opinions, cling solely to personal reputation, and ultimately lack the ambition to become the great pillar of all under heaven. To govern and dispel the darkness of an era’s chaos, and establish foundations for ten thousand generations of peace—this can only be accomplished by one chosen by Heaven. It is not something anyone can achieve simply by mustering ambition. This unworthy servant Liang emerged from his hermitage to serve Your Majesty precisely because I believed that person could be none other than Your Majesty. Moreover, Your Majesty undeniably possessed a blazing spirit in those days—a great ambition that burned brightly for the sake of all people across a hundred generations. Yet—ah—even one such as Your Majesty, Imperial Uncle Liu, now in advanced age, seems content with minor achievements, desiring only personal safety. As I ponder this, this humble servant’s illness appears to grow graver by the day.”

Kongming’s words carried profound gravity. Moreover, his speech bore not a trace of personal motive or self-interest—neither in implication nor expression. Xuande could not help but yield. By nature, he was a man who revered moral propriety above all. He had always been sensitive to worldly praise and censure. For this very reason, Xuande had shown no willingness to heed Kongming’s counsel from the beginning; yet the surrounding circumstances and internal stirrings within Shu Zhong ultimately rendered his hesitation untenable.

“I understand. It seems my considerations have still been far too narrow-minded. If I remain silent like this, the people of the realm may instead think that I recognize Cao Pi of Wei’s ascension to the throne. When the Military Strategist’s illness has healed, I will certainly heed your counsel.”

Xuande made that promise and returned. Within a few days, Kongming was already displaying his bright countenance at the Shu camp's administrative office. Grand Tutor Xu Jing, General Who Pacifies Han Mi Zhu, Qingyi Marquis Shang Ju, Yangquan Marquis Liu Bao, Administrator Yang Hong, Erudite of Illustrious Texts Yi Ji, Academician Yin Mo, and numerous other civil and military officials held daily meetings to investigate ceremonial precedents for the grand rite and repeatedly deliberate on procedures for the enthronement ceremony. In the fourth month of Jian'an's twenty-sixth year.

Chengdu bustled with the grandest event since its founding. The Grand Ceremonial Altar was erected south of Wudan. As the imperial carriage departed the palace gates, amidst an army that filled the earth and civil and military officials who surrounded him like stars chanting "Long live the Emperor," Xuande received the Imperial Seal and proclaimed to all under heaven his ascension to the throne as Emperor of Shu. Once the ceremonial obeisance concluded, they immediately proceeded to— (First Year of Zhangwu)

the proclamation of the new era name was issued, and the state was (Proclaiming itself as Great Shu) was thus established. In Great Wei, the Great Wei Emperor ascended; in Great Shu, the Great Shu Emperor ascended. The ironclad rule of a thousand ages—that there cannot be two suns in the sky—was shattered here. What move would Wu make in response to this?

Three

Since ascending the throne as Emperor of Shu, Xuande’s very countenance had undergone a transformation; he now naturally carried a weight of imperial authority surpassing even his days as Prince of Hanzhong, having come to exude an ineffable dignity of his later years. What had changed even more was his spirit. At one time, he had been exceedingly timid, preoccupied solely with reputation and humanitarianism—the grand ambitions he had nurtured from youth through middle age seemed to have withered entirely in his later years—yet after visiting Kongming’s home and hearing his admonitions during illness, he began to display an awakened grandeur and breadth of character, along with the seasoned maturity of an elder who knew no weariness in both civil and military governance.

“In this emperor’s life there remains an unfulfilled task that must be accomplished.” “It is to subjugate Wu.” “To avenge Guan Yu, with whom I swore an oath in the Peach Garden of old.” “It would be no exaggeration to say our Great Shu’s military preparations have striven forward solely for that purpose.” “I now raise the full might of our armies and boldly declare to Guan Yu’s spirit: I shall fulfill our ancient pact.” “You must devote yourselves to this endeavor!”

One day.

The powerful imperial voice of the Emperor of Shu proclaimed thus to his assembled ministers. The hundreds of officials attending the morning court maintained such solemn silence that not a cough could be heard. With eyes shining as if to say, "How could there be any doubt about the imperial decree?" they answered, their faces flushed crimson with resolve.

Then Zhao Yun Zilong alone objected without hesitation, admonishing boldly: "This is unwise, utterly unwise! Wu must not be attacked now. If we first strike at Wei, Wu will naturally fall into ruin. But should we turn against Wu while leaving Wei untouched, I fear Wei and Wu will unite as one, inevitably forcing Shu into dire straits."

“What nonsense are you saying, Zhao Yun?”

Xuande glanced at him from the corners of his narrow eyes and spoke in a tone more akin to scolding. "Wu is a mortal enemy that shares not the same heaven under our mandate! Not only did they slay this emperor's sworn brother, but they harbor deserters from our ranks—traitors like Fu Shiren, Mi Fang, Pan Zhang, and Ma Zhong! Unless this emperor devours their flesh and exterminates their nine clans to show the world evil's end, then this emperor's reign as Great Shu's sovereign holds no meaning!" "Ah," Zhao Yun countered, "but grudges between kin and punishing disloyal subjects—these remain Your Majesty's private grievances. The Shu Empire's destiny carries far greater weight."

“Guan Yu was a pillar of the state, while Ma Zhong, Fu Shiren, and their ilk are all traitors to the realm. To rectify that distinction between right and wrong and avenge these grievances—is this not naturally the will of the state? How can this be called anger born of personal grudge? Only when the people are all filled with such wrathful indignation and when there exists a clear righteous cause for battle can a battle be truly won. Your words may sound reasonable in theory, but they are not worthy of respect.”

The Emperor of Shu’s determination was resolute.

Afterward, the Emperor of Shu’s envoys secretly traveled back and forth to Nanman (Yunnan/Kunming). And they succeeded in borrowing over fifty thousand Nanman soldiers.

Meanwhile, a bizarre calamity befell Zhang Fei. At that time, Zhang Fei was in Langzhong (Langzhong, Sichuan Province) when he received the imperial decree appointing him as General of Chariots and Cavalry and Colonel-Director of Retainers, as well as Governor of the entire Langzhou region. “It seems that even after ascending the imperial throne, my sworn elder brother has not forgotten this unworthy younger brother.”

Emotionally volatile, he wept before the imperial envoy as he said this.

Since hearing of Guan Yu’s death, Zhang Fei had become even more emotionally volatile. When drunk, he would rage; when sober, he would curse; at times weeping alone and glaring at Wu’s skies, There were frequent instances where he would strike his sword and grit his teeth while inwardly swearing, I'll surely avenge my sworn elder brother someday! Exposed to these outbursts of passion, the soldiers in the camp were often beaten or kicked. Consequently, an air arose among the officers and soldiers where some even harbored secret resentment toward Zhang Fei.

On the day he received the imperial decree conferring honors, Zhang Fei, after entertaining the imperial envoy, "Why do those Shu courtiers not urge the Emperor to attack Wu even a day sooner?"

he launched into a vehement argument as though it were all the imperial envoy’s fault.

The Peach Garden's Last Spring

I

Even after draining a great quantity of wine, Zhang Fei remained insatiable. The veins in his temples bulged as not only his face but even the whites of his eyes turned crimson; he spat at the imperial envoy and declared: “Not only the court officials, but even Kongming is truly a spineless figurehead. I hear that Kongming has now taken up the post of Prime Minister to assist the Emperor, but starting with him, have the civil and military officials of the Shu court not grown secretly weary of the hardships of war, content as they are with their glorious titles? ……Truly lamentable petty men. Even an unworthy one such as I, Zhang Fei, has today been granted this gracious honor—far from discontent, I feel twice as much gratitude as any man. Yet when I think that Guan Yu is no longer in this world, I cannot help but swear to lead a retaliatory army against Wu.” ……How vexing! How regrettable! Before we’ve destroyed Wu, that we alone should bask in such gracious honors and live in peace—it’s utterly inexcusable. When he thought of how Guan Yu in the underworld must be gnashing his teeth…

Zhang Fei began to cry. When drunkenness and emotion reached their peak, he would always weep in grief and indignation—a habit of his. Yet his words were no mere drunken rant; such feelings were undoubtedly ones he perpetually harbored.

As evidence of this, once the imperial envoy had returned, he too immediately proceeded to Chengdu shortly thereafter to urge Shu's mobilization. Deeply upholding the Peach Garden Oath and remaining true to what he had sworn was something that even Emperor Xuande still maintained to this day. Reflecting on his advanced age and having recognized life's twilight, Since declaring “I will not coexist with Wu,” he had since then visited the drill grounds nearly every day in imperial procession—personally inspecting troops, training warhorses—single-mindedly awaiting that decisive day.

However, starting with Kongming, the civil and military officials who cared for the state's future argued that initiating another great war so soon after Your Majesty had only recently ascended the imperial throne was by no means prioritizing governance in reverence to the imperial ancestral temple. With many such opposing arguments, Xuande found himself forced to delay the military expedition against his will.

At this time, Zhang Fei came to Chengdu. That day as well, upon hearing that Xuande had left the imperial court and was at the military training hall of the drill grounds, he immediately went there before entering the forbidden gate to pay his respects to the Emperor. At that moment, Zhang Fei prostrated himself beneath the jade throne, embraced the Emperor’s feet, and wept aloud. Xuande also stroked Zhang Fei’s back, “You have suffered greatly. Guan Yu has already left this world, and of the sworn brothers who met in the Peach Garden, now only you and I remain. Is your body strong and healthy?” he tenderly consoled his grief.

Zhang Fei clenched his fist, “Your Majesty, have you not forgotten the oath we swore in those bygone days? Even an unworthy one such as I cannot find the slightest joy in any wealth or honors until I have avenged Guan Yu’s death.” As he wiped his tears and spoke, Xuande too brimmed with sorrowful tears, “Our hearts beat as one. We will surely march with you to attack Wu one day.” Zhang Fei leapt for joy, “If Your Majesty possesses such courage, then let us not speak of ‘someday’—Zhang Fei wishes to accompany you immediately! If we continue to grow accustomed to peaceful days and allow ourselves to be obstructed by civil officials and certain military men who care only for their own comfort, then in this lifetime, there will be no day when we can purge this hatred from our hearts!”

“Indeed, indeed.”

In that moment, Xuande summoned his courageous resolve and finally issued a grand command directly to Zhang Fei. “Immediately, you shall mobilize from Langzhong and advance south. We shall lead a great army to Jiangzhou, join forces with you, and attack Wu.”

Zhang Fei struck his head in delight, leaped down the stairs, and immediately returned to Langzhong.

However, opposition to the Emperor’s military preparations flared up immediately within his ranks, and Academician Qin Mi openly spoke out and remonstrated against its folly. “We and Guan Yu are one. Now that Guan Yu is gone, Wu grows arrogant. How can We bear to sit idly by? If you dare obstruct Us further, We shall cast you into prison and have your heads severed!”

Stubbornly, Xuande refused to listen.

Given his gentle and conservative nature, this act in his later years appeared completely like that of a different person.

Two Zhuge Liang also presented a memorial. “To attack Wu may be permissible, but now is not the time.”

He remonstrated to the utmost, but in the end, he could not make Xuande abandon his course.

In the first ten days of July in the first year of Zhangwu, the 750,000-strong Shu army departed from Chengdu.

Among them was intermingled a contingent of red-haired, dark-skinned barbarian troops they had earlier borrowed as reinforcements from Nanman. "You shall guard the Crown Prince and remain here," declared Zhuge Liang as he stayed behind in Chengdu. Ma Chao and Ma Dai's cousin, together with General Who Guards the North Wei Yan, had also been left to defend Hanzhong. Yet the territory of Hanzhong served another crucial role—it was a vital base for transporting military provisions to the front lines.

The expeditionary force that had set out had Huang Zhong at the vanguard, with Feng Xi and Zhang Nan as vice-generals. Central Army Protector-Commanders: Zhao Rong and Liao Chun. For the rear guard were the loyal vassals and various generals. The clan retainers and standard-bearers, their solid formations like clouds, surged southward and southward from the gorges of Shu.

But then—

Here, a sorrowful event suddenly struck Shu. It was an unforeseen disaster that befell Zhang Fei personally.

After hurriedly returning to his domain in Langzhong, Zhang Fei, already burning with ambition to swallow Wu whole, addressed the officers and soldiers of his camp,

“Immediately prepare to march out!” he ordered, then summoned his two subordinate generals, Fan Jiang and Zhang Da. “This battle against Wu shall be our requiem campaign for my sworn brother Guan Yu.” “From warship canopies to weapons, banners, armor and battle robes—all shall be made white. We shall march forth in white banners and white battle attire.” “Therefore you shall serve by preparing everything within three days.” “We depart Langzhong at dawn on the fourth day—see there is no disobedience,” he commanded.

"But..." they started, their eyes widening. The timeframe was impossible. This was because they had instantly understood - no matter how they considered it, there was simply no way to accomplish it.

However, knowing Zhang Fei's temperament, they withdrew once to deliberate. And once again came before Zhang Fei,

“Please grant us at least ten days’ extension. There’s absolutely no way we can complete this in such a short time,” they pleaded. “What? You can’t?” Zhang Fei’s veins bulged violently, like liquor set ablaze. Staff officers flanked him, already deep in operational planning—his mind had become indistinguishable from its battlefield state. “Do you think I can indulge ten days of delay before deployment? Discipline those who defy my command!”

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

Not only that, but Zhang Fei struck them with a whip. In front of their fellow soldiers who were watching, the Fan Jiang brothers must have felt absolute humiliation at this treatment.

However, they soon began to cry out amid their screams, apologizing for their transgressions.

“Please forgive us.” “We’ll do it.” “We will surely procure the items you have commanded within three days.”

Utterly straightforward Zhang Fei declared, “There—see? You could have done it if you’d just tried! I’ll release you now—work like your lives depend on it and get everything prepared!” With that final bark, he severed their bonds.

That night, he drank wine with his generals and slept. Though it was a common occurrence for him, that night he seemed to have drunk especially heavily; upon entering his tent, he lay down on his bed and fell asleep snoring. Then, around the second watch.

Two suspicious men sneaked in and clung to the tent wall for some time. They were the brothers Fan Jiang and Zhang Da. Having fully ascertained Zhang Fei’s sleeping breath, they drew the glinting daggers hidden in their robes— “You!”

With a shout, they suddenly leapt onto his sleeping form and cut off Zhang Fei’s head. Carrying the severed head, they dashed into the outer darkness like a swift bird. No sooner had they done so than they leapt into a boat that had been waiting by the banks of the Lang River. Together with their entire clan of several dozen members, they rode the current downstream and finally fled to the land of Wu. Truly regrettable was the death of Zhang Fei. The hero’s regrettable flaw was his crude temperament and rashness. His valor still had many days left to serve Shu, yet beginning from that day when the Peach Garden's blossoms blazed forth, here he ended his life. He was said to be fifty-five years of age.

Wild Geese in Disarray

I

In the sweltering seventh month of Great Heat, Shu's seven hundred fifty thousand–strong army had already departed Chengdu, winding its way in an unbroken march.

Kongming had attended upon the Emperor and escorted him a hundred li beyond, but “I entrust the Crown Prince’s safety to you. “Farewell!”

Prompted by Xuande, he returned to Chengdu with an air of melancholy.

Then, the next day.

While they had pitched camp and were stationed along the way, Zhang Fei’s subordinate, a man named Wu Ban, caught up to them, both he and his horse drenched in sweat. “Please look at this.” Gasping for breath, he presented a single memorial. Taking it from the attendant’s hand, Xuande had no sooner read it than—

“Ah! Zhang Fei!”

He seemed to feel vertigo; pressing his forehead as if on the verge of collapse, then— "Ugh..." He merely groaned. His limbs trembled, his complexion turned deathly pale, and cold sweat streamed from his forehead; then— "Was it a harbinger from the unseen? Last night, I awoke twice at midnight, and my soul was inexplicably startled..." He muttered, then began shedding tears that streamed down his face,

"It is an inexorable fate. At the very least, I shall hold a memorial service tonight. Set up an altar." With that, he uttered feebly from pale lips.

The next morning. Just as they were about to depart this place, a young general clad in a white battle robe and silver armor came hurrying toward them, leading a troop of cavalry.

"I am Zhang Bao, eldest son of Zhang Fei." After he introduced himself, he was immediately led before Xuande. Xuande looked at him, “Ah, you take after your father—a valiant youth indeed. Will you join Wu Ban at the vanguard of Our army?”

In this way, amidst his sorrow, there was a moment of joy, and he seemed to greatly regain his composure. Zhang Bao responded: “Please assign me to the front line of the vanguard.” “And unless I take my father’s place and achieve feats surpassing his own, I fear my father will not rest in peace in the netherworld.” However, on the same day, Guan Yu’s second son Guan Xing also joined the army, leading a force of troops. When Liu Bei saw Guan Yu’s son, his tears flowed anew.

At the commencement of this great campaign, there was so much weeping that the nearby generals, “There is an old saying: ‘Should a dragon’s tears fall upon the earth, a three-year drought shall follow.’” “Your Majesty, if you consider the weight of the realm, pray do not harm your august person.” “And please devote your august consideration to raising the army’s morale.” they reported. “Indeed.”

Xuande also immediately understood. In his sixties, beyond a thousand li from his borders, leading a grand army of over seven hundred thousand, he now found himself on this campaign. How could he possibly defeat Wu if he distressed his heart and ruined his body before even entering battle? —And so he himself had come to reconsider. Moreover, it went without saying that his every shift between joy and sorrow immediately exerted a profound influence on the morale of the entire army. Among the officers and soldiers, there were also vague murmurs of growing concern regarding celestial signs and terrestrial anomalies as portents for the auspicious or inauspicious outcome of their campaign.

One day, Chen Zhen informed Xuande as follows: "In this vicinity lies a sacred peak called Qingcheng Mountain." "There dwells a hermit named Li Yi who divines astronomy and geography in detail and is hailed by the people of this age as a living immortal." "How about summoning him with an imperial edict and having him divine the auspiciousness or inauspiciousness of this current endeavor once?" Xuande appeared rather reluctant, but since many of the other generals also urged him, he resolved to send Chen Zhen as his envoy and summon Li Yi to the camp.

Chen Zhen promptly ascended Qingcheng Mountain. When he reached the mountain path, he saw that indeed—just as worldly rumors had described—pure clouds swirled in ethereal mists, making this seem precisely the sort of place where immortals would dwell.

II

As he went further and climbed higher, the path grew increasingly narrow; the water formed streams and waterfalls; mists of auspicious energy swirled gently among the trees; the mountain gales and birdsong cleansed both his ears and heart—until Chen Zhen found himself utterly forgetting his mission. Then, from afar, a boy came walking over. When he reached him, he stopped and grinned. "You must be Mr. Chen Zhen, correct?" Because he had been addressed so abruptly, he was greatly astonished, "How do you know my name?" he asked, his eyes widening in astonishment.

“Yesterday my master said,” the boy answered. “That tomorrow or so, an envoy from the Emperor of Shu named Chen Zhen would come up this mountain...” “What? Then... your master is Li Yi, the immortal sage?” “That’s right. But my master refuses to meet anyone who comes.” “Do not say that—you must guide me there without fail! I implore you... I am none other than the Emperor’s envoy! If the immortal sage will not grant me an audience, I cannot return.”

“Very well, I’ll try to announce your visit. Come along.”

The boy walked ahead. After traveling several li, there lay a flat and serene immortal realm. The boy entered the hermitage and informed his master, Li Yi. Li Yi reluctantly came out to welcome the imperial envoy. "What matter brings the Emperor's envoy here?" Li Yi inquired. Chen Zhen explained in detail the will of the Emperor of Shu, who was currently on his southern campaign. "His Majesty declares that he must trouble the Immortal Sage and wishes to inquire of you. As I shall accompany you, would you perhaps spare yourself the trouble of traveling all the way to Shu's camp by descending the mountain for a single day?"

He spoke with utmost courtesy and deference. Li Yi was reluctant, but "If it is by imperial edict, there is no refusing," he said and, in silence, followed Chen Zhen down the mountain. Xuande, before long finding himself in the presence of this immortal sage, frankly expressed his thoughts and posed questions. "You may already know this, but I formed a life-and-death bond with Guan Yu and Zhang Fei in my youth and have lived over thirty years amidst the clamor of warhorses and urgent summons. After finally securing Shu, the people—recognizing my descent from Marquis Jing of Zhongshan—urged me to ascend the throne, and here I established my foundation. Yet unexpectedly, both my sworn brothers were slain, and all those responsible for their deaths reside in the land of Wu." "Therefore, I have resolved to march forth and subjugate Wu—yet what auspicious or inauspicious signs lie ahead?" "Frankly, I would like to hear your divination plainly revealed, Immortal Sage."

Li Yi stated bluntly. “That I do not know. All lies with heaven’s decree—that is, heaven’s will.” “Venerable Sage, I have heard you are well-versed in heaven’s decrees. I beseech you to perform the divination.” “A lowly mountain hermit. How could such a one comprehend the workings of the vast cosmos?” “No no, that must be your modesty. Please—if only a single word—tell this emperor.”

After repeated questioning from the Emperor, Li Yi could no longer refuse—

"Then bring paper and a brush here," he requested, and soon began silently drawing something. When observed, he had drawn soldiers, horses, and weapons like a child’s scribbles, then tore them up one after another and discarded them. He drew and discarded, drew and discarded, until a hundred sheets lay ruined as scrap. On the final sheet, he depicted a single human figure lying supine, with another figure beside it digging earth to bury it. Li Yi paused his brush to examine the drawing, then wrote the character "white" across the image and flung the brush aside,

“This humble one is unworthy,” Li Yi muttered something incomprehensible, prostrated himself a hundred times before Xuande, then vanished like mist. Gazing after his departure, Xuande wore an unhappy expression. And to the nearby generals: “I welcomed a worthless man and squandered precious time. He must be a madman. Burn these paper scraps at once!” he commanded.

At that moment, Zhang Bao, son of Zhang Fei, came before the imperial seat and made this announcement. “It appears that Wu’s army has already appeared at the front. I beseech you to grant me command of the vanguard.”

Three “Ah! How splendid is your resolve.” “Zhang Bao, go swiftly and achieve glory.” Xuande took the vanguard seal and was about to personally confer it upon Zhang Bao. Then, abruptly, there was someone from among the generals below the dais who spoke thus.

“Your Majesty. Please wait a moment. The vanguard seal should by rights be granted to this humble one who petitions thus.” When this voice rang out, all present turned sharply toward its source and saw Guan Xing - second son of Guan Yu - standing there.

Guan Xing stepped forward, prostrated himself on the ground, shed tears, and continued pleading to the Emperor. “It is my deceased father who watches intently from beneath the earth—not only for this day’s battle but for my deeds.” “How could I entrust the vanguard’s first unit to another?” “I implore you—grant this vanguard duty to me...”

Then Zhang Bao, “Hold there, Guan Xing! What ability do you have to dare seek the vanguard yourself?” interjected Zhang Bao from the side. Guan Xing smiled composedly, “I have some skill in archery.” he answered.

Zhang Bao also retorted, "When it comes to martial arts, I, Zhang Bao, yield to none! I too am Zhang Fei's son!" He showed no sign of retreating. Xuande, caught between them in this dispute, appeared troubled but declared: "Then let both of you compete in martial skill. To the superior one shall I grant the seal." "Then witness this!" Zhang Bao proclaimed with fervor. He first planted flags three hundred paces distant, affixing small red targets atop them. Loosing arrow after arrow, he shattered every scarlet mark without missing once.

“Truly a son worthy of Zhang Fei!”

The crowd erupted in thunderous cheers. Then, Guan Xing also next took up his bow and stepped forward, “Zhang Bao’s archery skills are nothing remarkable. Though it may sound like bravado,” he declared while arching his body like a crescent moon and aiming his fully drawn arrow toward the heavens, “witness where my arrow shall strike!”

Now and then, the cries of wild geese skimmed the clouds. After holding his breath and staring intently at the sky, just as a formation of wild geese passed directly overhead, Guan Xing loosed a single arrow with a loud twang of his bowstring.

A single wild goose, bearing the arrow with its whistling flight, fluttered down to earth. Astonished by this brilliance, the civil and military officials raised their voices as one— “He hit it! He hit it!”— they praised him, their roars of admiration continuing unabated for some time. Zhang Bao, working himself into a frenzy, “Hey, Guan Xing! A bow alone won’t serve you on the battlefield! Do you even know how to wield a spear?” he bellowed angrily. Not to be outdone, Guan Xing immediately leapt onto his horse,

“I may not know much, but at least this much,” Guan Xing retorted while brandishing his sword toward Zhang Bao’s head. “What insolence, you boar-mouthed brat!” Zhang Bao roared, gripping his late father’s eighteen-foot spear as he prepared to strike. “Cease this!” Liu Bei thundered from above. “You children—have your fathers’ mourning rites even concluded? Why must you bicker like foes? Were your fathers not bound by blood-sworn oaths and souls intertwined as kin? Should either of you be harmed, how would your fathers beneath the springs lament?”

“With a start!” The two discarded their spears, leapt from their horses, and pressed their foreheads to the ground at the foot of the steps. “From this day forth,” declared the Emperor, “you shall emulate the bond between your late fathers Guan Yu and Zhang Fei. Let the elder among you be named brother, forging a fellowship no less profound than theirs.” At these words, both youths bowed deeply once more 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 with solemn vows.

Reports that the enemy army had already drawn considerably close came in rapid succession. Thus, Xuande assigned the two men to lead the vanguard’s land and naval divisions while he himself followed immediately behind as the rear guard. From that day onward, the march shifted into battle-ready formations and surged like raging waves toward Wu’s border.

Wu's Diplomacy

1

Now, before that—

Fan Jiang and Zhang Da—who had hidden Zhang Fei’s head in the ship’s hold and fled a thousand li downstream from Shu under a single sail—subsequently arrived at Wu’s capital Jianye, presented Zhang Fei’s head to Sun Quan, and pledged their future loyalty and service. “The Shu army of over seven hundred thousand will soon launch an attack against Wu! Unless Your Majesty dispatches a large force to the border without a moment’s delay, Liu Bei and his Shu compatriots—seething with years of resentment—will sweep through Jiangnan and Jiangdong like a raging torrent breaching a dam!” they declared in booming voices.

All who heard this turned pale. Sun Quan, too, had been caught completely off guard; that very day he summoned all his ministers and— “Xuande has finally mobilized all of Shu’s forces and come attacking with a do-or-die spirit. I imagine the resentment over Lord Guan Yu’s execution has penetrated to their very marrow. How can we repel that ferocious assault?” Even after he had finished speaking, for a time no one in the assembly offered a response. For everyone could imagine with horror that the enemy’s deadly resolve was no trifling matter.

Then Zhuge Jin said,

“I will stake my life and go as a peace envoy,” said Zhuge Jin.

The people gazed at him with sneering eyes. After all, Zhuge Jin had never once succeeded in a mission he undertook. However, even if it ended in failure, it would still serve to soothe the enemy’s impetuous morale during that time and allow our military preparations to be perfected. Sun Quan approved. “Yes—first attempt a peace negotiation.” Upon receiving the command, Zhuge Jin immediately ordered the river fleet officer to prepare the sails and sailed up the Yangtze River bearing the missive.

At that time, it was the eighth month of autumn in the First Year of Zhangwu.

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

Just then, Zhuge Jin arrived as an envoy from Wu. Before even meeting with him, Xuande had already discerned Wu’s true intentions. However, Huang Quan insistently— “If Your Majesty turns him away without granting an audience, it will only make us appear petty in the enemy’s eyes.” “Rather, by using him to fully convey our position in return, would it not clarify our justification for war and further enhance Your Majesty’s prestige?” Since he had recommended holding an audience, the Emperor thereupon had Zhuge Jin brought before him. Zhuge Jin prostrated himself and said.

“Your servant’s younger brother Kongming has long been in Shu serving Your Majesty.” “Therefore, my lord Sun Quan, hoping that Your Majesty might extend some measure of favor beyond what others receive, has specifically appointed this unworthy one as an envoy to convey Wu’s heartfelt sincerity.”

"I will hear it plainly. What is the substance of your message?" "The first matter requiring your understanding concerns General Guan Yu's death. Wu naturally bears no resentment toward Shu. Regarding Jing Province - ever since Your Majesty wed Lord Sun Quan's younger sister into your household, we had resigned ourselves to detachment, even accepting that governance by Your Majesty's forces might equate to Wu territory. Yet General Guan Yu, stationed there as guardian, persistently clashed with Lü Meng of Wu's regional command, stirring turmoil in placid waters until matters culminated in that tragic incident. Indeed, my lord Sun Quan profoundly regrets this outcome, having repeatedly affirmed that without Wei's coercion, he would never have ordered Lord Guan Yu's execution."

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

Zhuge Jin continued speaking, "The death of General Guan Yu and the conflict between Shu and Wu—when traced to their roots—are all being manipulated by Wei’s schemes." "For two great kingdoms to fight and let Wei claim the fisherman’s profit would be the very pinnacle of folly." "I implore you to sheathe your weapons, revive our former friendship, permit Lady Wu—who has returned to her homeland—to reenter Shu’s inner palace once more, and sustain our enduring diplomatic bond as interdependent as lips and teeth." "My lord Sun Quan desires nothing beyond this—" he persisted fervently in his argument.

2

And yet, Xuande maintained his silence completely. Zhuge Jin, mustering all the eloquence and wisdom of his lifetime, tried to add one more word. “Your Majesty has surely long been aware of Cao Pi of Wei’s wicked acts. Has he not finally deposed the Han Emperor, ascended to the imperial throne himself, and made the hundred million people lament in grief and indignation? Now, if Your Majesty—as a descendant of the Han imperial house—seeks vengeance, you should direct it at Wei. Yet you fail to rectify their usurpation and instead turn your war toward Wu. The world will mock you as a lord who knows not great righteousness but is consumed by petty vengeance. I beseech Your Majesty to deeply ponder that point as well…”

At this, Xuande suddenly opened his eyes wide and cut off Jin’s eloquence with a raised hand. “You’ve done well to come all this way, envoy of Wu. Enough. Leave my presence at once and return to Wu. And deliver this firm message to Sun Quan: ‘This emperor shall meet him face to face ere long. Let him wash his neck and await me.’” “…Hah.”

Struck by this authority, Jin bowed his head.

The harsh clatter of footsteps rang from the throne. When he raised his head, Xuande was already gone.

Xuande, known for his benevolent and kind-hearted nature—or rather, for being reserved and cautious—had never before uttered such vehement declarations to an envoy of an enemy state. Jin had made every effort up to this point, but the moment he reached this juncture, he could not help but conclude— (This is hopeless...) he could not help but conclude. And the fact that his younger brother Kongming was not participating in this campaign served, he thought, as proof of just how resolute Xuande’s determination was.

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

All-out confrontation. An unprecedented decisive battle.

Such an atmosphere rapidly swelled to fullness.

Already from the Jiang River and from mountainous regions and wilderness, troops heading to the front lines continued to be dispatched in a steady stream. Amidst that commotion, a man named Zhao Zi, Grand Master of the Palace Secretariat, set out for Wei. Of course, this was also undertaken as an envoy of Wu. Well-bred horses and strong soldiers were the tradition of the northern countries, while excellence in diplomatic talent was where Wu—as southerners—excelled. No matter what crisis they faced, they never neglected their fervor and tenacity in first attempting diplomatic maneuvers on the periphery, seizing every opportunity.

“What?” “The state of Wu has sent an envoy to present a memorial to this emperor, you say?”

Emperor Cao Pi of Great Wei smirked and skimmed through the memorial. Lately appearing to have ample leisure, Cao Pi granted an audience to envoy Zhao Zi before proceeding to interrogate him on various matters. His tone blended jest and earnestness—as if probing Wu's key figures and internal affairs through casual banter. "Envoy," he demanded, "in one word—what manner of man is your master Sun Quan?" Zhao Zi—a snub-nosed man of small stature—drew himself up resolutely,

"He is a lord of wisdom, benevolence, courage, and strategy."

he answered, then without a trace of shame met Cao Pi's gaze directly, blinking his eyes, “Your Majesty, why do you deign to laugh quietly?” he challenged. “Then this emperor finds it difficult to restrain laughter.” “Because I marvel that one could so grossly overvalue their own lord.” “This is most unjust of Your Majesty to say.” “Why unjust?” “From my lowly station in Your Majesty’s august presence, I spoke with deliberate restraint.” “Should Your Majesty command me to explain unreservedly, I shall present reasons that will stay your laughter.”

“Speak freely then. Expound fully upon Sun Quan’s greatness.” “It was his discernment that plucked the great talent Lu Su from among ordinary men. It was his insight that elevated Lü Meng from the ranks of common soldiers. He captured Yu Jin yet spared him—that is his benevolence. He captured Jing Province without losing a single soldier—that is his wisdom. By occupying the Three Rivers and eyeing the realm with a tiger’s gaze—this is his might. Bowing his head to submit to Wei—that is his strategy. How could one not call him a lord of discernment, insight, benevolence, wisdom, courage, and strategy?”

Cao Pi ceased his laughter and reassessed this snub-nosed little man.—“Bowing one’s head to submit to Wei—this is stratagem,” he had dared to proclaim! Wei’s assembled ministers were all aghast at his sheer audacity.

Three Cao Pi glared down at him with piercing eyes. It appeared he felt his dignity as the Great Wei Emperor had been encroached upon. Eventually, Cao Pi deliberately ventured such words to Zhao Zi.

“This emperor now considers in his heart whether to attack Wu. What is your view?”

Zhao Zi struck his forehead and answered. “Ah.

“That would be most splendid. If a great nation possesses the might to launch foreign campaigns, then a small nation too has its defenses and stratagems. Why then would we simply cower in fear?” “Hmm. It seems the people of Wu never fear Wei—or perhaps I should say...” “We neither fear you excessively nor underestimate you excessively. With our million elite troops and hundreds of warships, using the perilous Three Rivers as our moat, Wu trusts in nothing but itself.” Cao Pi was inwardly astonished. “In the state of Wu, how many men like you exist?” he asked again.

At this, Zhao Zi clutched his belly and laughed uproariously, "Men of my meager caliber could be measured by the bushel and carted off by the wagonload," he declared.

Finally, Cao Pi sighed three times and lavishly praised this envoy.

“The saying ‘When dispatched to the four quarters, he does not disgrace his sovereign’s command’ seems tailor-made for this man.” “You there, you there! Bring wine!” Zhao Zi had thoroughly proved his mettle. Not only had he received exceptional hospitality, but it 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 far exceeded expectations. That is to say, the Great Wei Emperor pledged future assistance upon the envoy’s return to his country, and to Wu Marquis Sun Quan,

(enfeoffed as King of Wu) He conferred the honor of the Nine Bestowments and dispatched his subject Xing Zhen, the Minister of Ceremonies, bearing the seal and ribbons, to accompany Zhao Zi back to Wu.

Since it had been personally decided by the Emperor, the Wei courtiers could do nothing about it—but no sooner had the Wu envoy departed the capital than doubts and lamentations arose from all quarters, “We’ve been thoroughly outsmarted by that little runt.”

There were many who voiced such opinions. Those like Liu Ye risked imperial displeasure to remonstrate with the Emperor: “The present conflict between Wu and Shu is as if Heaven itself moves 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 collapse instantly.” “By having pledged assistance to Wu all too clearly, this humble advisor fears we have let slip a once-in-a-millennium opportunity.” “Given these circumstances, I most humbly urge Your Majesty to feign alliance with Wu while sowing discord within their ranks, and simultaneously devise with utmost haste a strategy to strike Shu.”

“No, no,” Cao Pi refused. “That will not do. This emperor would lose the trust of the realm.” “However,” Liu Ye persisted, “having now been ensnared by Wu’s deceptions—bestowing upon them the title of King of Wu and conferring the weighty honor of the Nine Bestowments—this amounts to deliberately giving wings to a tiger. If left unchecked, Wu will grow rapidly powerful. When future troubles arise, there will be nothing we can do to manage them.” “He has already paid homage to this emperor as a subject,” Cao Pi countered. “This emperor has no justification to attack those who have not rebelled.”

“That was because Sun Quan’s official rank was still low, being merely General of Agile Cavalry and Marquis of Nanchang. However, once he styles himself King of Wu and becomes positioned merely one rank below Your Majesty, his heart will naturally grow arrogant and his influence expand—there will be no telling what demands he might make. Even if Your Majesty were to take offense and dispatch a punitive expedition at that time, the world would witness it and unanimously condemn Wei, claiming we seek to plunder Jiangnan’s wealth and beauties.”

“No!” “You will keep silent and observe for now.” “This emperor will neither aid Shu nor rescue Wu. Remaining solely in the orthodox position, This emperor shall await the moment when both sides exhaust themselves in battle.” “Enough of your words.”

If this was all part of such deep foresight and long-term strategy, then what more could be said? Liu Ye, overcome with chagrin, withdrew from the Wei Emperor’s presence.

Four The great diplomatic success and the auspicious news that Sun Quan had been enfeoffed as King of Wu had already been internally reported to Jianye Castle. Before long, news arrived that Wei’s imperial envoy Xing Zhen had come by boat. Sun Quan, who had been eagerly awaiting the day of arrival, “If I do not go out to welcome them, it would be improper,” he said, hurriedly beginning preparations. In Jianye too there were resolute retainers. Seeing Sun Quan’s eager and somewhat elated demeanor, Gu Yong, who had been bitter all along, finally spoke thus. “There is no need whatsoever for Your Lordship to personally greet Wei’s subordinate envoy.” “Is Your Lordship not already ruler of Jiangdong and Jiangnan?” “How could there be any reason to gratefully accept another’s official titles at this late hour?”

“No, Gu Yong. That is narrow-minded talk. Did not Han’s Gaozu himself once receive enfeoffment from Xiang Yu, only to later become King of Hanzhong? All depends on seizing the moment,” he declared.

Accompanied by his officials, Sun Quan exited the gates of Jianye. It was to go out a great distance and perform the welcoming ceremony with utmost courtesy. Xing Zhen, bearing himself with utmost arrogance as the imperial envoy of the superior state, approached. Moreover, he deliberately attempted to pass through the city gate without alighting from his carriage. Then, Wu’s veteran general Zhang Zhao became exceedingly enraged and,

“Wait! Is the person in this carriage a rustic who knows no propriety, or a fraudulent envoy? Does this insolence stem from believing Wu lacks worthy men, or do you dare scorn us as swordless cowards?!” Zhang Zhao thundered.

Then, the assembled officials also raised their voices in unison, "For three generations, Wu has never bowed to another state. And yet, to welcome this insolent envoy and have our lord receive another’s titles—how galling! How infuriating!" Among them, there were even some who became so agitated that they burst into wails.

Xing Zhen hurriedly jumped down from his carriage and apologized. Then, facing the assembled officers and soldiers, he inquired, “Who was it that just now cried out in a wailing voice?” Then, immediately, “That was I. What of it?”

A general stepped forward and announced himself. When they looked, it was General Who Pacifies the Army Xu Sheng.

“…You.” Xing Zhen once again apologized for his discourtesy to the man and passed through. And secretly,

(Wu must not be underestimated)—he seemed to keenly realize this.

However, Sun Quan received the envoy with every courtesy and hospitality. And the title of King of Wu, bestowed by the Great Wei Emperor, "I humbly accept this honor." he accepted with genuine delight. On that very day, he announced the news throughout Jianye Castle and received ceremonial congratulations from all civil and military officials. Xing Zhen felt relieved, thinking that at least matters had gone well. And when the day for Xing Zhen's imminent return to Wei drew near, the King of Wu hosted a farewell banquet showcasing Jiangnan's utmost elegance and beauty, where he heaped mountains of lavish gifts upon banquet tables,

“Kindly take these back with you,” he announced. Even Xing Zhen—accustomed to opulence within Great Wei’s palace—couldn’t help but widen his eyes in astonishment at the sheer magnitude of the gifts.

Pearls and jewels, gold and silver, textiles, ceramics, rhinoceros horns, hawksbill turtle shells, jadeite, coral, peacocks, fighting ducks, crowing roosters—there was nothing that did not rank among the world’s seven treasures and hundred rarities. 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. "The Wei Emperor will surely grow arrogant. By any measure, such gifts were far too excessive. That was excessively obsequious."

Sun Quan laughed lightly. “No, no. It is human nature to be insatiable in desire. If he takes them first, he likely won’t consider them too excessive. In short, we can only bind him through profit. But later, all those gifts will amount to nothing more than tiles and stones.” “I see.” Zhang Zhao suddenly relaxed his stern expression and nodded with evident delight. As a veteran minister who had served three generations of Wu’s rulers, he must have been moved to tears of gratitude at how Sun Quan—once so often perceived as immature—had unwittingly grown into such a magnanimous leader.

All the other gathered ministers likewise marveled at Sun Quan's profound foresight.

The Decisive Battle

I

Afterwards, Shu's massive army was stationed in Baidi Castle to the point of overflowing, but they deliberately did not advance; instead, they gradually cultivated their vigor and single-mindedly monitored the movements in the south and north of the river.

At that time, intelligence arrived:

“It has been reported that while Wu hastily requested reinforcements from Wei, Wei merely granted Sun Quan the title of King of Wu, and Cao Pi’s stance remains firmly neutral.” “My prediction was not wrong—Cao Pi seeks to reap the fisherman’s gain.” “Very well! Then, we march!”

Emperor Xuande decisively issued his first command from the tent here. At this juncture, Sha Mo Ke of Nanman joined them with tens of thousands of ferocious warriors from his barbarian lands, while Dongxi's generals Du Lu and Liu Ning likewise rallied their forces to join the ranks. Thus did the entire army's morale come to overwhelm Wu—the naval forces advanced to Wukou (Wushan, Sichuan Province), while the land forces pressed forward to the vicinity of Zigui (Zigui, Hubei Province).

Against the surging waves of the Yangtze River and the gathering war clouds spreading from upstream, Wu—

—A national crisis approaches.

While gripped by an abnormal sense of urgency, they simultaneously maintained a psychological standoff with Wei's maneuvers.

At this juncture, Sun Quan immediately realized how dangerous and foolish relying on others was. Wei still did not send out any troops. At last, Sun Quan resolved to engage in a decisive one-on-one showdown and consulted his ministers on this matter. However, the cabinet meeting maintained only solemn, silent tension, and not a single minister stepped forward with fervor to take charge of this battle.

Then, from one corner, a man rose up and shouted passionately. “Your Majesty has maintained soldiers for a thousand days solely to prepare for a single day’s use.” “I may still be a green youth with yellowed beak of inexperience, but precisely at such a time as this, I wish to repay Your Majesty by applying the military strategies I have studied on paper daily—fueled by this hostility toward our foes and sincere loyalty.” “I beseech Your Majesty—dispatch this humble one at the very forefront!”

When they looked to see who it was, it was Sun Huan, Commandant of the Martial Guards and nephew of Sun Quan. He was a youth of merely twenty-five years of age. "Ah, my nephew!"

Sun Quan gazed intently and, appearing thoroughly delighted, granted his request. “I hear your household maintains two generals of peerless valor—Li Yi and Xie Jing—men who could each hold off ten thousand foes. “Splendid! March forth! As your deputy, I shall assign the veteran Tiger Might General Zhu Ran.” Thus, the fifty-thousand-strong Wu army hastened to Yidu (Yidu, Hubei Province). Zhu Ran was appointed Right Commander and Sun Huan Left Commander, each leading twenty-five thousand troops divided across both flanks to face Shu.

The Shu army departed Baidi Castle, passed through Zigui, and swept through every region between there and Yidu, incorporating surrendered soldiers from each locality—their momentum was like a typhoon that strips the land bare before it. "I hear Sun Huan of Wu remains a beardless young warrior," Guan Xing petitioned on the day Emperor Xuande was surveying enemy lines. "For this vanguard engagement, permit me to confront him." Since Guan Xing and Zhang Bao had previously nearly come to blows while competing for the vanguard position, Emperor Xuande granted permission on one condition—"Take your sworn brother Zhang Bao with you."

“Take your sworn brother Zhang Bao with you,” he permitted conditionally.

Guan Yu’s son and Zhang Fei’s son—the two of them leapt into action, 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, and “I’m uneasy. They are all youths facing their first major battle. Immediately gather elite troops and follow closely behind them.” he ordered.

The result was truly a great victory for Shu. Since Wu's general Sun Huan was young and this was his first battle, Guan Xing and Zhang Bao utterly devastated all his positions. Moreover, Xie Jing—whom Sun Huan had relied upon along with his elite left and right guards—was slain by Zhang Bao, while Li Yi, struck by an arrow and attempting to flee, found himself pursued from behind by Guan Xing and split cleanly in two by that Green Dragon Crescent Blade. Thus did Wu suffer this crushing defeat. However, as Zhang Bao had advanced too deeply, when he realized this and tried to turn back, Guan Xing’s figure was nowhere to be seen. Suspecting as much, he charged even deeper into enemy territory,

“Sworn Brother. Sworn Brother!”

he called out at the top of his voice as he searched. Father Guan Yu and Father Zhang Fei—had their spirits yet lingered beneath the earth—would have wept at their sons’ valor and this bond of brotherhood.

II

Even after the sun had set over the wilderness and darkness had engulfed everything around them，Zhang Bao still had not returned. Guan Xing too remained absent.

“Today’s battle is a great victory for our side.” Even as he listened to the voices of his officers and soldiers streaming back, Emperor Xuande’s countenance showed no sign of further joy,

"What has become of those two?" he stood at the camp in the wilderness, waiting with desperate longing.

Finally, those two returned, riding side by side. When they came into view, they were bringing a captured enemy general with them. He was Tan Xiong—a warrior renowned even in Wu for his ferocity. "In order to pursue and capture him alive, I became separated from my allies," Guan Xing reported to the Emperor, "and after finally meeting up with Zhang Bao, we returned together." "Both have upheld their fathers’ honor." Emperor Xuande praised them by patting each of their shoulders with both hands. Then they beheaded Tan Xiong, lit a bonfire, held a ritual for the spirits of men and horses, and bestowed wine upon all present.

Not only had he suffered a crushing defeat in the opening battle, but three of his generals had been slain, leaving Sun Huan of Wu deeply ashamed. Temporarily retreating his camp one step,

“If I do not wash away this disgrace,” he reorganized their defenses; though they had lost many soldiers, their fighting spirit burned ever more fiercely. The Shu army steadily bided their time while awaiting the next opportunity to engage in battle.

"With their current morale, even if we were to employ the same tactics again, we would not secure another decisive victory like before." Feng Xi, Zhang Nan, Zhang Bao, and Guan Xing all shared this view. They devised a strategy and secretly began making preparations. Though Wu's left wing—their land forces—had been defeated, their right-wing naval forces stationed along the nearby riverbank remained intact. One day, patrol units from that riverside outpost captured a Shu soldier and brought him before the naval commander's headquarters. "Why were you captured?" "I lost my way."

“Why did you leave your allies’ camp and wander into this place?” “Under Commander Feng Xi’s secret orders, about fifty of us were sent out during daylight to lie hidden nearby—for tonight we’re to set fire to Sun Huan’s camp and launch a night attack. But while transporting oil afterward, I became separated from my unit.” Upon hearing this testimony, Commander Zhu Ran clapped his hands in delight. “We’ll disembark our troops ashore to sever the Shu army’s retreat route when they advance for their night assault. Then, coordinating with Sun Huan, we’ll crush them in a pincer strike!”

Zhu Ran immediately prepared a letter and dispatched a messenger to Sun Huan’s camp. However, that messenger was cut down by Shu soldiers lying in ambush along the way. This was entirely Feng Xi and Zhang Nan’s devised strategy, for they had anticipated the messenger’s passage beforehand. Unaware of this, that evening, Zhu Ran disembarked his large army from the ships and was about to advance. However, General Cui Yu, “Something feels off. To blindly trust the words of a single soldier and launch such a large-scale operation is rather reckless. Commander, you should remain here to protect the navy. This humble general will go in your stead,” he cautioned.

Zhu Ran, also reconsidering with "Indeed," held back the naval forces himself, entrusted the strategy to Cui Yu, and assigned him just under ten thousand soldiers.

Just as anticipated, at the second watch, a ferocious blaze erupted over Sun Huan’s camp. Cui Yu had been informed by Zhu Ran during the day that a fire attack was planned, but he had not anticipated that their messenger would be slain en route.

“Go reinforce them!” he urged abruptly—but as they rushed forward, ambushers sprang forth from forests and lowlands along the path as if they had been lying in wait. It was Zhang Bao and Guan Xing’s two-pronged army. Cui Yu was captured alive, and his subordinates suffered a major blow before retreating in disarray. Zhu Ran, in a panic, moved the entire naval force downstream about fifty to sixty li that very night. Having been defeated not once but twice, Sun Huan—his entire camp burned by the enemy—had no choice but to retreat to Yiling Castle (northeast of Yidu, Yichang, Hubei Province), his eyes blazing with frustration.

Shu mercilessly pursued them, beheaded Cui Yu, and thus demonstrated their might. And the news of two consecutive crushing defeats in the opening battles soon plunged all within Wu's capital of Jianye into gloom. “Your Majesty need not distress yourself so. Though few of Wu’s renowned generals since our kingdom’s founding remain among the living, more than ten capable commanders still stand ready for service. First, summon Gan Ning.”

Elder Zhang Zhao encouraged him.

General Winter

1

Winter came. The Shu army, riding a wave of successive victories, maintained their front stretching over seventy li from Wu Gorge through Jianping to Yiling, ushering in the first month of the second year of Zhangwu. On the day he bestowed New Year’s wine to his close retainers, Emperor Xuande was slightly intoxicated,

"Is it snow—or my graying temples?" Reflecting on this, We had aged; moreover, many of our commanders in headquarters had grown old as well—yet all had steadfastly endured through this winter campaign. "However, since the young pair of Guan Xing and Zhang Bao have proven their worth, We have indeed felt greatly heartened."

Thus he mused.

Then, that afternoon,

A rumor spread that Huang Zhong had defected to Wu with only about ten horsemen. Emperor Xuande smiled at the informant,

“No—Huang Zhong was here this morning. He must have mustered his aged vigor to venture forth against Wu.” Our musing had been but a heartless whisper. Alas, he too was a seventy-year-old veteran warrior—it would be cruel indeed to let him err through our negligence. “Guan Xing! Zhang Bao! Ride out at once and bring him back safely!” Xuande’s conjecture had not missed the mark. Indeed, Huang Zhong—driven by precisely such resolve—had led a mere ten horsemen through their allied Yiling encampment, intent on proving his mettle within enemy lines.

Feng Xi and Zhang Nan spotted him and, “Old General, where are you going?” they asked. Huang Zhong, with fervor, recounted the Emperor’s musings. “The Emperor declared at the New Year’s banquet that many among the commanders in headquarters have aged, and few remain fit for service. Though I have reached seventy years, I can still devour ten catties of meat and draw a two-dan bow. Therefore, I shall now give the Wu army a good scare to ease His Majesty’s heart,” he answered without dismounting.

“Old man.” “That’s reckless!”

Zhang Nan tried his utmost to dissuade him. It was as though he stopped just short of calling it the reckless folly of an old man.

He admonished him, saying: "Wu’s battle formations have now completely transformed from last year’s. They’ve moved young Sun Huan to the rear while assigning seasoned veterans like Han Dang and Zhou Tai—who led a massive force from Jianye—to the frontlines. Pan Zhang commands the vanguard, Ling Tong secures the rear, and Gan Ning, acclaimed as Wu’s foremost tactician, oversees the entire army as a mobile force. Moreover, they number one hundred thousand fresh troops. What do you hope to achieve charging there with just ten horsemen?" he explained, bursting into hearty laughter.

However, Huang Zhong paid no heed. "You lot can sit back and watch," he dismissed them curtly before riding off. Zhang Nan and Feng Xi watched him go with looks of dismay, but

"Well, well—has Death itself possessed him? But we can’t just leave him to die—" they exclaimed, and hastily dispatched a troop to pursue him. Huang Zhong soon reached the camp of Wu’s Pan Zhang. With only ten horsemen, he calmly passed through to the central army. By the time the sentry, finding this strange, called out to his comrades, he was already engaged in combat with their commander Pan Zhang. “To avenge Lord Guan Yu, I have come here alone on horseback.” “I who speak am Huang Zhong, Shu’s foremost old warrior!”

For he had charged toward their command tent and proclaimed his name in a thunderous voice. The battlefront remained unchanged; this clash had erupted from within Wu's own central army. Pan Zhang’s outer defenses all abandoned their forward positions and converged toward the center. There, Zhang Nan’s contingent arrived to reinforce Huang Zhong. A moment later, Guan Xing and Zhang Bao came galloping in with several thousand cavalrymen who stormed about like a blizzard. The battle dissolved into pandemonium—though Pan Zhang slipped through their grasp—and Shu claimed decisive victory in the engagement, once more dividing the contested plain between them.

“You’re unharmed—thank goodness. Now, Old General, let us return.” When Zhang Bao, Guan Xing and the others urged him to withdraw, “Nonsense!” The old warrior would not budge.

But the old man did not budge.

“I will fight again tomorrow. “And the next day as well.” “…until I have slain Guan Yu’s killer!” The next day again, this septuagenarian warrior stood at the vanguard of the charge, “Pan Zhang! Show yourself!” he bellowed, rampaging through every quarter of the battlefield. But today, Wu had made preparations. He found himself cornered in treacherous terrain. When he tried to cut a bloody path to escape, stones came hurtling from all sides as a dark whirlwind swept through. Then from the mountains to the right came Zhou Tai; from the left stream, Han Dang; from the rear valley, Ma Zhong and Pan Zhang—the Wu forces sealed his retreat like encroaching mist.

Two Even the valiant Huang Zhong could now do nothing. His body bore several arrows, and his horse had been struck by a stone and collapsed. His energy was exhausted, and his eyes grew dim, "This is the end," he thought, and attempted to take his own life by severing his neck. Wu’s general Ma Zhong, at that moment, spurred his horse and charged down with a shower of gravel. As soon as Huang Zhong realized this, "A companion for the road to death—precisely the enemy I sought!" With a final surge of desperate courage, he stood before Ma Zhong like a vengeful specter, blocking his path.

“Do you still cling to that white-haired head of yours?” Clinging to the shaft of Ma Zhong’s thrusting spear, Huang Zhong refused to release his grip. As Wu troops around them began clamoring with unrest, Ma Zhong grew increasingly flustered—until finally, the aged Huang Zhong wrested the spear from him and began driving it fiercely into his opponent again and again. Guan Xing and Zhang Bao had at last discovered Huang Zhong’s entrapment in these mountain passes. To save him, they came charging in a sudden assault. Sensing mortal peril, Ma Zhong abruptly abandoned his foe and vanished into the valley’s shadowed embrace.

“Old General.” “You’re safe now.”

Though the words had been spoken close to his ear, Huang Zhong remembered nothing of what happened afterward. When he came to his senses, he lay peacefully in his allies' camp being tended by Guan Xing and Zhang Bao. No—someone was behind him stroking his back. Enduring the pain he suddenly turned: there stood Emperor Xuande. "Old General. "Forgive this emperor's error."

“Ah…” Gasping in shock, Huang Zhong tried to rise, but between the profuse bleeding and his aged frailty, his face could only twist in anguished contortions. “Nay, Your Majesty. “...To have been able to serve for so long by the side of a virtuous lord such as Your Majesty, even until this age of seventy-five—it is truly the greatest blessing of being born human.” “This life—how could it be worth clinging to?” “Only safeguard Your Majesty’s sacred person.”

As soon as he finished speaking, his breath abruptly ceased.

Outside the camp, a blizzard raged, turning day into night. Ah... Another Tiger General was gone. Of the Five Tiger Generals, three were now gone.

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

“In that case,” Xuande steeled himself and led the Imperial Forest Army onward, advancing the frozen imperial banners as far as Xiaoting (west of Yidu in Hubei Province). Unexpectedly, in this vicinity, they engaged in battle with Wu’s Han Dang army. Zhang Bao routed Han Dang’s sole subordinate Xia Xun, and Guan Xing took the head of Zhou Tai’s younger brother Zhou Ping. The Emperor observed this, “A tiger does not sire a dog!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands in admiration. With each battle they advanced, the Shu army crossed mountains of corpses and waded through rivers of blood. The white yak-tail banners and yellow axes guarding the emperor’s seat—down to the yellow silk canopy—had all frozen solid. The crystal bead curtains swayed as if advancing through ice.

Gan Ning, who had been commanding Wu’s navy, had been in poor health since departing Jianye. By winter, he was increasingly plagued by his chronic illness, and the deteriorating situation of his allies was deeply concerning. With no alternative, he too retreated on horseback along the riverbank alongside the land forces.

Then, along the way, the Shu army's Nanman troops who had been lying in ambush all rose at once and launched a fierce assault on them. Since the majority of his forces were aboard ships, only a handful of his subordinates remained with him. Moreover, with the valor of Sha Mo Ke, commander of the Nanman army, being like that of a malevolent demon or rakshasa, they met with such wholesale slaughter that scarcely any survived. Gan Ning, on his sickbed, was struck in the shoulder by an arrow shot by Sha Mo Ke and fled alone as far as Fuchikou (south of Gong'an in Hubei Province). Seeming to realize his end was near, he abandoned his horse beneath a great tree and, sitting at its base, finally met his demise.

February began.

At Xiaoting, fierce battles were still being repeated. The Shu soldiers had become thoroughly imbued with an unshakable belief in certain victory, while the Wu troops found themselves gripped by a deep-seated dread that defeat would inevitably follow any engagement.

However, in that day's battle, though the entire army had returned in triumph with songs of victory, for some reason, even when night fell, Guan Xing alone had not come back. “Go and see at once.” “This troubles me…” With that, the Emperor instructed Zhang Bao and ordered the other generals to divide the search, remaining awake until late into the night.

Weiling Dawang

1.

Fiercely, fiercely—forgetting even to return—Guan Xing pursued the Wu forces and encountered Pan Zhang amidst the chaotic army—the man who had slain his father Guan Yu. How could he let him escape? He had pursued the fleeing Pan Zhang deep into the mountains. But alas, he lost sight of his foe and wandered lost through the darkness of the mountain night.

Noticing light spilling from a mountain dwelling, he approached to beg shelter and a meal for the night. “Come in,” said an old man as he opened the wooden door and led him into an inner hall. The moment Guan Xing stood within, he gasped and prostrated himself. Before him blazed lamps upon a small altar—there enshrined was a portrait of his late father Guan Yu.

“Old man. What connection existed between my father and this house?” “In that case, Your Lordship must be General Guan’s son.” “Then, that Guan Xing would be me.” “This land was once the territory governed by the honored General Guan. Even during General Guan’s lifetime, we praised his virtuous deeds and worshipped him morning and evening in every household. How much more so now that he has ascended as a divine spirit!”

With those words, the old man comforted Guan Xing, rejoiced at this miraculous encounter, opened a bottle of wine he had stored beneath the floor, and entertained 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! Lost and desperate—lend me your main hall till dawn!” he bellowed as he pounded on the entrance. Guan Xing stood rooted, “Strange workings of fate,” he thought. “This must be Father’s guiding hand!” No sooner had this realization struck than he burst through the door— “Pan Zhang! My father’s killer—you’ll not escape me!” He seized the general. Taken unawares, Pan Zhang was wrestled down and beheaded. Guan Xing exultantly lashed the head to his saddle, bid farewell to the old man, and rode away.

Then, from the foot of the mountain, Pan Zhang’s subordinate Ma Zhong came up. Looking up, they saw a young warrior descending with his master’s head fastened to his saddle. Moreover, what he held in his hands was none other than the famous Green Dragon Crescent Blade—cherished by Guan Yu and bestowed upon Pan Zhang by the King of Wu as a reward for slaying him. “Hey! What wretch dares this?!” With his hair bristling in rage, Ma Zhong lunged forward. Guan Xing roared as he met the attack, recognizing this man too as one of his father’s killers. “Come then!” he cried, mustering all his strength to fight.

At that moment, a troop of cavalry came up, waving torches. It was Zhang Bao’s army, which had received Liu Bei’s command and come in search of Guan Xing.

“Ah! A formidable foe!” Ma Zhong fled. Zhang Bao and Guan Xing, hand in hand, returned to their main camp, had an audience with the Emperor, and presented Pan Zhang’s head. Ever since the battle began, the Wu army had suffered defeat after defeat. Now with Pan Zhang’s death as well, among its soldiers...

"There’s no matching Shu." This sentiment had begun to permeate the ranks like a vague mist. From its very formation, this army had contained many Jing Province soldiers who had earlier abandoned Guan Yu and surrendered to Wu’s Lü Meng. Even before facing battle, they harbored an instinctive dread toward the Shu Emperor, while among them were not a few who harbored divided loyalties. These soldiers, seizing upon the vulnerability born of their unbroken series of defeats,

“The Shu Emperor despises none more than Mi Fang and Fu Shiren—the two who betrayed Shu and sold out General Guan to the enemy.” “So if we take those two’s heads and present them to the Shu Emperor’s camp, he will surely grant us great rewards.” Gathering close and whispering among themselves, they began to show ominous signs of unrest. When Mi Fang and Fu Shiren sensed danger to themselves, “We can’t afford to lower our guard.” “A riot may break out among our own ranks at any moment.” “The one the Shu Emperor truly despises must be Ma Zhong.” “If we now take Ma Zhong’s head, go before the Shu Emperor, and repent our past wrongs, there can be no doubt we’ll surely receive his forgiveness.”

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 his head than they deserted and fled to the Shu camp.

2

When Emperor Xuande saw Mi Fang and Fu Shiren prostrate at his feet, his face turned as fierce as an enraged dragon, and he berated them. “Vile inhuman wretches! What face do you have to come before me? When first hard-pressed, you sold Guan Yu to Wu; when pressed again, you betrayed Wu to come bearing Ma Zhong’s head. The foulness of your hearts, the depravity of your deeds—to call you dogs or beasts would still fall short. Were I to spare you, it would abolish martial honor for a hundred generations and leave the world’s righteousness rotting upon the earth. Before Lord Guan Yu’s spirit too, I cannot suffer you to live.—Guan Xing! Guan Xing! These two foes I bequeath to you. Sever their heads and offer them to your father’s spirit.”

Guan Xing bounded up like a sparrow, "My deepest gratitude!"

With both hands, he grabbed the two by their collars, dragged them before Guan Yu’s spirit tablet, severed their heads, and offered them there. While he rejoiced at fulfilling his life’s ambition, Zhang Bao alone stood despondent. The Emperor, perceiving his state of mind, “Though I have yet to bring solace to your deceased father, know this—when the day comes that we invade Wu and lay siege to Jianye’s walls, we shall not fail to avenge Zhang Fei.” “Zhang Bao,” he consoled, “do not sorrow.”

However, by this time, those two enemies—Fan Jiang and Zhang Da—had already been bound in chains, placed in a cage cart, dispatched from Wu’s Jianye, and paraded as public spectacles at every post station along the way.

The reason was as follows:

Amid the tragic reports of successive defeats, in Wu’s Jianye, peace proposals had rapidly surged from a faction of senior ministers regarded as conservatives. According to this faction’s opinion: Originally, Shu had wanted to ally with Wu. The reason Shu had now roused their enmity and launched a full-scale attack as seen today was due to their fury toward Lü Meng, Pan Zhang, Fu Shiren, Mi Fang, and others—but now all those individuals had perished. Only Fan Jiang and Zhang Da remained. However, there was not the slightest reason for Wu to pay such an enormous price for those two individuals. They should promptly arrest them and return them to the Shu camp along with Zhang Fei’s head. Furthermore, if they were to return the territory of Jing Province to Xuande and send Lady Wu back to her original quarters—formally seeking peace through an official missive—the Shu army would immediately lower their banners, and Wu would no longer have its prestige diminished in the realm. If left to continue as is, it may well lead to the grave event of eventually seeing Shu’s banners at the very walls of Jianye.

Such was their reasoning. Of course, the pro-war faction’s vehement arguments were refuted as fiercely as flames, but ultimately, as each day they fought made Wu’s lands appear more imperiled, Sun Quan had no choice but to consent to this course of action. And so, Cheng Bing was dispatched as an envoy to present a letter and proceed to Xiaoting. That is to say, he had brought along Fan Jiang and Zhang Da—the two vile captives in the cage cart—and furthermore enclosed Zhang Fei’s head, preserved in salt within a precious aloeswood box, presenting both before Emperor Xuande of Shu.

Xuande accepted them. And as for the two wretches,

“Hand them over to the filial son.”

and entrusted them to Zhang Bao’s hands.

Zhang Bao struck his forehead, “This is indeed heaven’s grant!” He leapt forward, tore open the iron door of the cage cart, dragged them out one by one, and slew them like slaughtering wild beasts.

And offering the two heads before his father’s spirit, he wailed aloud with heaving sobs. Cheng Bing, Wu’s envoy, watched this spectacle and shuddered with visceral revulsion. Xuande maintained his silence. Seizing the moment, Cheng Bing pressed: “My lord earnestly desires to return Lady Wu to her former chambers and reforge bonds of lasting goodwill.”

he pressed for a response. Xuande clearly dismissed that obsequious diplomacy. And then,

“Our ambition does not stop at such matters,” “We shall conquer Wu, vanquish Wei, establish a unified realm of peace under heaven, and follow Emperor Guangwu’s Restoration of Han.” He declared resolutely. A scholar

1

Cheng Bing hurriedly withdrew back to Wu as though fleeing. As a result, another grand council was convened within Jianye, where ministers and generals of Wu—as if only now realizing it—came to fully recognize Shu’s formidable resolve for war. The entire hall was overcome with an air of dread and trembling terror that could not be concealed.

“Gentlemen! What is there to fear? In Wu, there has fortunately emerged a great talent who can be called the pillar of the state. Why do you gentlemen not recommend this man as king at such a time and use him to crush Shu?”

At that moment, someone from one of the seats put forth this proposal. It was Kan Ze, styled Derun.

Sun Quan’s eyes suddenly gleamed,

“This lord had not known such a person of great caliber existed within Wu,” Sun Quan declared, his eyes suddenly gleaming with intensity. “Wu now stands at life’s precipice between survival and ruin. Should there truly dwell in obscurity a talent mighty enough to restore our realm’s fortunes, I would gladly gather their sandals to welcome them.” He turned fully toward Kan Ze, demanding, “Name this man.”

Kan Ze responded to this, "It is none other than Lu Xun, who is now in Jing Province." At these words, the council chamber erupted into commotion, with sneering voices audible among the din. "Huh...?" Sun Quan tilted his head in puzzlement. The assembly buzzed with murmured criticisms. Senior ministers like Zhang Zhao and Gu Yong offered 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 inheriting this role. Until recently, all trusted that with Lord Lü Meng presiding over affairs, the state's great matters were secure." "Yet now that Lü Meng too has perished and our nation grieves through this crisis - though our reverence for these departed heroes burns fiercely - not a single soul would look upon Lu Xun, a mere beardless scholar, and deem him worthy to be our realm's stalwart guardian." "What delusion has seized Kan Ze?"

When Zhang Zhao spoke, Gu Yong also tore into him: “Lu Xun is at his core a man of letters with no military aptitude whatsoever. Moreover, he’s young and as feeble as any Confucian scholar of this age—even viewed through lenient eyes, one can’t call him an exceptional talent. Should you employ him, your subordinate generals will surely refuse obedience. When commanders defy their superior, it signals impending chaos. In short, using him to crush Shu is nothing but a fool’s delusion.”

he tore into him with scathing criticism. Although there were many other opponents, Sun Quan dismissed all their objections, “Summon Lu Xun,” he commanded, and immediately dispatched a fast horse to Jing Province with the order. What compelled him to make that decisive judgment was Kan Ze’s— (If there is any error in my words, you may take my head.) Though this stemmed from Kan Ze having staked everything by taking full responsibility for the recommendation and striving to push it through, what truly swayed his heart were the words of praise that the late Lü Meng had bestowed upon Lu Xun during his lifetime, as well as—

(If Lü Meng had deemed him worthy to appoint as guardian of Jing Province’s borders in his stead, then despite his youth, he must possess some remarkable qualities,) Sun Quan concluded internally. Lu Xun, upon receiving the summons, hastily returned to Jianye and had an audience with the King of Wu. When asked by the King of Wu, "Having received this great responsibility, do you have the confidence to meet it?" Lu Xun responded: "At this critical moment for our state’s survival, I must not decline. I humbly accept this august command."

With an implicit hint of confidence in his words, he then added: "Since Your Majesty has personally deigned to bestow this august command, it would suffice as is. However, I humbly entreat that you summon all civil and military generals to conduct a solemn ceremony, whereupon you might confer upon this subject the command sword."

Sun Quan agreed. Thereupon, at the northern courtyard of Jianye Castle, he had a platform constructed day and night, lined up the hundred officials, arranged ceremonial officers and musicians, and had Lu Xun ascend the dais. Then Sun Quan, King of Wu, personally bestowed a sword and also entrusted all such items as the white yak-tail banner, yellow battle-axe, seal and ribbon, and tiger tallies. “I now appoint you as Grand Commander Protector-General of the Western Garrison and confer upon you the title of Marquis of Lou.” “Henceforth, you shall take overall command of the military forces of the Six Commanderies and Eighty-One Provinces, as well as all routes in Jing Province.” With that, he entrusted full authority to Lu Xun.

II

When word spread that Lu Xun was to take the field as the new commander-in-chief, the generals at Wu’s various front-line positions expressed intense dissatisfaction, voicing their complaints one after another:

“What is the meaning of appointing such a mere fledgling to the position of Grand Commander Protector-General?” “Do they truly believe a bookish weakling like that can command an army?”

“The King of Wu’s decree defies understanding. This must stem from some plot by those around him.”

There were even those who already spoke of Wu’s total collapse.

It was at this juncture that Lu Xun arrived to assume his post. He gathered the military forces from all routes of Jing Province, added new generals such as Ding Feng and Xu Sheng, and grandly arrayed freshly forged banners at the general headquarters. However, the veteran commanders stationed at each post since before his arrival all stood proudly, displaying an air of defiance. Not a single soul came to offer congratulations. Lu Xun showed not the slightest concern and, biding his time, issued a formal summons: "All generals must assemble for a war council." On that day, standing upon an elevated command platform above the reluctantly gathered commanders below, he declared:

"When I departed Jianye," declared Lu Xun from the elevated platform, "the King of Wu personally bestowed upon this humble self the treasured sword, seal, and ribbon, proclaiming: 'Within the palace gates, the king governs; beyond them, the general commands.'" "If any under my command disrupt order," he continued, his voice hardening, "I am to execute them first and report afterward—such were His Majesty's exact words." "I was moved to tears by this sacred trust," he concluded, sweeping his gaze across the assembled generals, "and thus assumed this post without sparing a thought for my own safety." Having laid bare his mandate, he crushed one of the baseless rumors circulating among their ranks with these revelations, then—

“The military invariably has its laws,” declared Lu Xun from the command platform, his voice carrying across the assembled generals. “It is said the king’s justice recognizes no kinship. All units shall enforce military discipline with utmost rigor.” His tone hardened like forged steel. “Should any refuse compliance—before engaging the enemy, I shall first purge our ranks of traitors!” The generals stood mute, their stony profiles averted like carved idols refusing audience. Then Zhou Tai—foremost among the malcontents—stepped forward to address the dais. “Lord Sun Huan,” he began, voice taut with urgency, “the King’s own nephew who has endured bitter combat at our vanguard these many months—now languishes besieged in Yiling Castle! Within those walls, provisions dwindle to nothing; without, Shu’s armies choke every supply route.” His gauntleted fist struck breastplate in emphasis. “Since Your Excellency now graces us with command—will you not devise some stratagem to rescue him? To ease our sovereign’s heart and fire our soldiers’ spirits? I demand answer—does the Grand Commander harbor any such design?”

Lu Xun dismissed it as hardly worth considering. "A single castle like Yiling is nothing more than a peripheral concern." "Moreover, Sun Huan is adept at utilizing his subordinates; he will surely unite their strength and defend it well." "There’s no need to fear Yiling falling even if we don’t rush reinforcements." "What I intend to destroy lies at the Shu army’s core." "When their core collapses, a peripheral stronghold like Yiling will naturally break free from siege."

Hearing this, all the generals burst into scornful laughter. "Just as we thought—this man has no strategy," they whispered contemptuously among themselves as they dispersed. As for Han Dang and Zhou Tai—the two of them— "With such a Grand Commander leading us, we have no choice but to perish," they exclaimed, their faces contorted with rage. Then, the next day, in the name of the Grand Commander, to all units,

Firmly defend all points of attack and do not presume to advance. Even should a single soldier venture forth to engage in battle, this too is expressly forbidden.)

Such were the military orders that were issued. “Ridiculous! We can no longer remain silent!” “We can’t stay silent any longer!”

The generals, with eyes blazing in resentment and indignation, stormed into the Grand Commander’s headquarters to lodge their protests.

"We have come to fight! We staked our lives to be here! Yet you issue orders forcing us to fold our hands and await our doom? Surely our King of Wu never appointed you under such passive directives!" With Han Dang and Zhou Tai leading the charge—each voicing vehement opposition—Lu Xun seized his sword and declared: "I may be but a scholar, yet I command you by the King's authority! Should any dare dissent further," he thundered, "I'll execute them without mercy to uphold military law!"

he rebuked them in a thundering voice.

III The generals fell silent. Filled with fear, they all departed. However, not a single one of them submitted to Lu Xun. Rather than when they had come, they now contained their resentment within, “That bookish upstart—the moment he gains power, he starts throwing his weight around like that, doesn’t he?” On their way back, each of them exchanged vulgar jeers. Amidst this, the Shu grand army—their morale ever higher—had constructed over forty encampments and ramparts across the vast region stretching from Xiaoting to the river mouth. By day, their banners rivaled the clouds; by night, their watchfires scorched the heavens.

"We hear the Wu army’s commander-in-chief has been replaced by someone called Lu Xun this time—a man We’ve never heard of," declared the Shu Emperor. "Does anyone here know him?" On the day reports arrived about organizational reforms within enemy ranks, His Majesty immediately questioned those at his side.

The one who answered was Ma Liang.

"The enemy has indeed employed a decisive figure," Ma Liang answered. "Though Lu Xun is but a young scholar from Jiangdong, I have heard that even Lü Meng of Wu revered him as a mentor and never treated him as a mere academic. A man of profound talent and far-reaching stratagems—one whose depths remain unfathomable." "If he possesses such strategic brilliance," Emperor Liu Bei pressed, "why did Wu withhold his service until now?" "Perhaps even his closest confidants remained unaware of his capabilities," Ma Liang ventured. "Lü Meng alone possessed the discernment to recognize his worth early on. Though history attributes Wu’s capture of Jing Province and Guan Yu’s decisive defeat to Lü Meng’s cunning stratagems, in truth they all originated from Lu Xun’s strategic wisdom."

“Then Lu Xun stands revealed as the very architect of my sworn brothers’ demise?” “That interpretation holds merit.” “Why did you withhold this knowledge? Had I known him to be such a formidable foe, I would never have suffered his banners to flaunt defiance before mine for even a day’s span. Order the advance at once.” “I most humbly implore Your Majesty to reconsider. Lu Xun’s strategic acumen rivals Lü Meng’s own and approaches Zhou Yu’s brilliance.” “Do you dare suggest Our martial stratagems cannot match some untested scholar’s scribblings?”

Ma Liang could find no further words of admonition. Emperor Xuande ordered his generals to advance their encampments. The Wu camp, which had until now been plagued by disunity, could no longer afford to indulge in private disputes and personal grudges now that they were confronted with Shu’s fierce formations directly before them. Suddenly united, they gathered beneath the command headquarters’ canopy and sought instructions on how to repel the enemy from Lu Xun’s knitted brow. “Maintain current defenses; do not act recklessly.” “That is all.”

Lu Xun said only that. "Ah," he thought. That mountain area—wasn't that Han Dang's position? Their vigor is excessive. Perhaps deeming it unreliable, he spurred his horse and galloped there. Then: "Han Dang," he commanded. "Do not descend the mountain rashly." He stopped the general just as Han Dang was about to charge down toward the enemy front with his troops marshaled.

Han Dang flared up in agitation, “Commander-in-chief, do you not see that? The yellow silk canopy fluttering in the field—that marks precisely where the Shu Emperor has stationed his command post! To cower within our defenses while staring at their position before our very eyes—if this is our course, we might as well abandon warfare altogether!” “When one fails to perceive the enemy’s hidden stratagems and judges by mere appearances,” Lu Xun countered, “such conclusions become inevitable. A commander of Liu Bei’s caliber would never expose himself so openly before Wu’s battle lines through visible deployments alone. Do not plunge our soldiers into his trap through rash judgment.” He raised a hand toward the blazing horizon. “This midsummer inferno works to our advantage. By maintaining our positions without engagement day after day, their forces will bake beneath these open skies—their strength sapped by thirst, their resolve scorched to ashes. They will have no choice but to withdraw into shaded valleys.” “When that hour comes,” Lu Xun’s voice sharpened like drawn steel, “I shall sound the order that unleashes your fury. Every general will charge as one.” His tone softened as he met Han Dang’s glare. “This patience serves Wu’s cause. I implore you—harbor cool winds within your breast while we let their reckless provocations burn themselves out.”

Since not a single unit along the entire front was moving, Han Dang too had no choice but to clench his fists and remain still, exactly as Lu Xun had commanded. The Shu army relentlessly hurled insults and mockery, ceaselessly provoking Wu’s anger.

Baidi Castle

One

Attempting to lure the enemy through taunts and mockery to provoke their anger had become obsolete as military strategy. Thus the Shu army tried various tactics—deliberately revealing gaps in their decoy formations, placing weaker troops at the frontlines, and daily concocting new schemes to draw out their foes—yet Wu remained dug in like moles, never venturing a single step from their positions. It was a treeless wilderness offering no shade. While nights were tolerable, the daytime heat scorched the earth and withered what little grass remained. To compound their woes, water had to be hauled from distant sources, sickness spread through the ranks, morale crumbled, and all order dissolved into chaos.

“This won’t do. For now, let us relocate our encampment elsewhere—to a cool mountain shade or valley with water.” Emperor Xuande could no longer refrain from issuing this military order. Then Ma Liang cautioned: “Withdrawing such a vast army all at once would be disastrous. We will surely suffer Lu Xun’s pursuit.” “Do not worry,” replied the Emperor. “We shall leave feeble old soldiers as the rearguard and feign defeat in retreat. Should the enemy grow emboldened to pursue, We Ourselves will lie in ambush with elite troops and strike them down. If they perceive a stratagem, they will not recklessly give chase over long distance.”

The generals praised this as nothing less than the Emperor’s divinely ingenious strategy. However, even after hearing this explanation, Ma Liang still looked uneasy, “Recently, during his spare moments while managing affairs at home, Zhuge Kongming has occasionally been coming out to Hanzhong, where he has been increasingly fortifying various strategic points as matters of great importance.” “Since Hanzhong isn’t far from here, might it not be prudent to first swiftly sketch the terrain and formations of this area into maps, dispatch a messenger to seek our Military Advisor’s counsel, and only then—if deemed appropriate—proceed to relocate the encampment?”

yet his expression still showed a desire to stop him. Xuande smiled and,

“We are not ignorant of military strategy,” declared Liu Bei. “Why should We send inquiries to Kongming at every turn while leading this expedition? However, since he has come as far as Hanzhong at this opportune time, you shall go to inform him of Our current situation and describe the state of the battle. Should he have any counsel, hear it and return with it.” With that, he commanded Ma Liang to undertake this errand. Ma Liang accepted the order and meticulously began sketching both allied and enemy formations along with the terrain. When he transferred these observations to paper, they revealed a battle array known as the “four reaches and eight paths.”

The next day.

Wu scouts came tumbling down from atop a mountain like rolling balls and reported urgently before Han Dang and Zhou Tai: “Shu’s large army has begun relocating their encampments one after another toward the distant mountain forests.”

they urgently reported before Han Dang and Zhou Tai.

“Ah!” “So that’s it…”

With that, the two of them once again galloped to Commander-in-chief Lu Xun’s camp. “There has been such-and-such a report just now,” they reported. At this moment, Lu Xun’s face—like one spotting rain clouds in a drought—revealed an indescribable delight in his gleaming brows.

“Ah! “I see!” “Commander-in-chief! “To the entire army at once! “Please issue the pursuit order!”

"No, wait—come with me." They lined up their horses and galloped to the high ground. As if declaring that mere reports could not warrant reckless action, he surveyed the entire wilderness in a single sweeping glance. "...Truly masterful." Lu Xun uttered these words in admiration. They say retreat demands greater skill than advance. Now he saw Shu's massive army had withdrawn almost completely—swept away as if by a broom. Before Wu's battle lines remained only a rearguard unit of fewer than ten thousand men.

“Blast! Military opportunities last but an instant! Your leisurely pace has once again let slip the perfect moment! In that case, Han Dang and I must at least annihilate those ten thousand troops, or I won’t be satisfied!” As Zhou Tai stamped his foot and spoke, Lu Xun restrained even that, “No, wait three more days, I implore you.”

Raising his whip and pointing in an unrelated direction, he deliberately paid no heed to the impassioned words of the two men.

II

Zhou Tai seethed with indignation, “You squandered that crucial moment—what becomes of us after three more days of waiting?!” As if deeming this exchange beneath him, he turned away and spat on the ground. Yet Lu Xun remained unmoved, his whip still raised toward distant shadows as he—

"In that valley ahead—in the shadows of those mountains—there lies a thick, ominous killing intent. "That must be Shu's ambush force." “By leaving behind a mere ten thousand weak and elderly soldiers as their rearguard while withdrawing their main force far away, the enemy has undoubtedly devised this transparent stratagem to lure us in,” he explained. Then he strictly prohibited all from launching attacks and returned to his main camp. "What cowardice!"

“Armchair strategizing,” they sneered. “What a farce…” The men mocked Lu Xun’s timidity as they assumed their posts with resigned indifference—as if this battle could only end in defeat. Seizing this laxity, Shu’s grizzled veterans lounged bare-chested before Wu’s lines, stretching with theatrical yawns while pelting insults: “Come out! You cowards!” They kept up their taunts without pause. “This is intolerable!” On the third day, Zhou Tai and Han Dang led their fellow generals back to confront Lu Xun—yet he stood firm,

"To be swept up in the reckless valor of mere brashness—that is not the charge of any among you," he pressed with a bitter expression. Zhou Tai snapped back aggressively, "If the Shu forces fully withdraw to distant positions—what would Your Excellency do?"

he pressed on. Lu Xun, with a single word,

“That is precisely what I desire—there could be no greater cause for celebration,” he said.

The people laughed uproariously. Indeed—given that this was their sole desire, it was only natural. It was a scene of them clapping their hands right before his eyes as if declaring him an utterly exasperating Commander-in-Chief.

Then, once again, a general from the scouting party arrived,

“This morning, in the thick frost before dawn, the enemy’s ten thousand old soldiers retreated unnoticed from their rearguard position and vanished. Shortly thereafter, seven or eight thousand Shu troops emerged from the valley floor and were seen withdrawing into the distance while leisurely gathered around a yellow silk canopy,” reported the scout.

“Ah! That was Xuande! We 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 you all gnash your teeth, as long as he maintains his proper formation, you cannot break through. However, maintaining such an extended formation became untenable due to the scorching heat, rampant illness among the troops, and declining morale. Consequently, they relocated their camp to the waterside. Yet even in this move, they had meticulously devised a plan—leaving behind a feeble force of veteran soldiers to bait us while concealing their elite troops in the valley. However, even after waiting three days, since our Wu army did not move, they finally lost patience and departed.—The favorable winds are gradually turning in our favor. Behold, gentlemen! Within ten days at most, the Shu army will surely meet its fragmented demise this time.”

The assembly wore expressions that seemed to say, "Not this again," and listened with barely concealed disdain. Especially Han Dang, vexedly,

"Ah, splendid! Our Commander-in-Chief is truly a brilliant theorist," Han Dang sneered.

Paying no heed to them, Lu Xun immediately composed a letter. It was intended to be submitted to the King of Wu, Sun Quan. In that letter, he also wrote: (The complete annihilation of the Shu army is imminent.) (I believe that Your Highness and all the lords within Jianye Castle may now rest easy with pillows raised high,) he wrote. As for the Shu army, they began shifting their main force to the navy. On land routes lay Xiaoting’s strategic stronghold and Lu Xun’s formidable battle line. Since they were all holding out tenaciously, resulting in nothing but wasted days, Xuande began to feel somewhat pressed for time. And it appears he had resolved to invade Wu’s heartland without hesitation, determined to engage in a decisive battle with Sun Quan, the King of Wu.

Whether this was the reason or not, over the past few days, Shu’s warships had been continuously sailing down the Yangtze, pursuing enemies at every point along the riverbanks and promptly constructing water bases in their wake.

III

The outbreak of war between Shu and Wu was delighting Wei. Wei’s intelligence agency was now demonstrating its utmost effectiveness. Cao Pi, Emperor of Great Wei, looked up to the heavens and laughed.

“Shu is concentrating their efforts on their navy, advancing over a hundred li each day toward Wu. Xuande’s final hour draws ever nearer.” A courtier inquired suspiciously. “By what reasoning does Your Majesty make this pronouncement?” “Is it unclear to you all? The Shu army has already established over forty camps on land and now advances several hundred li by water.” “When deploying their massive army along this winding eight-hundred-li front, even Shu’s seven hundred and fifty thousand troops will become perilously thin.” “Moreover, by bypassing Lu Xun’s formations and thrusting out from the waterways, it must be said Xuande’s fortune has reached its extremity.” “As the ancient saying goes—‘Encircling dense wilderness to encamp is a military strategist’s taboo.’” “He has indeed committed that very taboo.” “Behold—Shu will suffer a crushing defeat in the near future.”

However, the court officials still could not fully accept this and instead feared Shu’s momentum, "Is it not precisely border defenses that are crucial?"

they said, but Cao Pi flatly denied it— “If Wu defeats Shu, their momentum will send them surging into Shu like an avalanche. This is precisely when our forces must seize Wu,” he declared with the clarity of one tracing strategy upon his palm. Without delay, he granted Cao Ren command of an army to advance on Ruxu, dispatched Cao Xiu with another force toward Dongkou, and assigned Cao Zhen a third contingent to Nan Commandery. Thus having positioned three armies to watch Wu from three directions while keeping them strictly on standby—truly, he proved himself a worthy inheritor of Cao Cao’s blood.

×　　　　　×　　　　　×

Ma Liang of Shu arrived in Hanzhong. At that time, Zhuge Liang was in Hanzhong.

“His Majesty commanded that if you had counsel to offer, I should hear and report it,” Ma Liang said. “Our forces have established over forty positions across eight hundred li along the riverbanks and mountain foothills. The vanguard now advances ceaselessly by boat downriver to strike Wu.” He produced diagrams he had copied himself and relayed every detail of their deployments. Zhuge Liang struck his knee as if cursing his own oversight. “This is calamitous! Who proposed this strategy?”

“This was no meddling by others—the formation was personally conceived by His Majesty himself.” “Hmm... Has the Han dynasty’s mandate truly expired?” “Why does Your Excellency despair so?” “First: While attacking downstream with the current is easy, retreating against it proves arduous. Second: Encircling dense wilderness to establish camps violates every military strategist’s taboo. Third: An overextended battle line disperses our concentrated strength.” He struck his knee. “Ma Liang—you must race back to the front at once! Report my words and plead with His Majesty to avert calamity through urgent counsel.”

“And what if His Majesty were to suffer defeat at the hands of Lu Xun’s forces during that interval?” “No, no. Lu Xun will not pursue far. The reason being—he must be aware that Wei lies in wait for an 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 at Fishbelly Creek there for future contingencies. If Lu Xun carelessly gives chase, he will assuredly be captured alive.”

“I’ve passed through Fishbelly Creek many times, but never once seen a single soldier there. That’s a lie—what you’re saying now.” “No—you’ll understand soon enough.” Having drafted a document, Kongming returned to Chengdu, while Ma Liang galloped back to the Wu battlefield once more.

×　　　　　×　　　　　×

Lu Xun of Wu had already commenced his maneuvers. The moment had arrived—dividing his various forces, he first launched an operation to capture the Fourth Shu Army in Jiangnan.

There, Shu general Fu Tong was defending. For the night attack against this position, Wu generals Ling Tong, Zhou Tai, Han Dang, and others all eagerly volunteered to lead the vanguard, but Lu Xun appeared to have his own strategic considerations. "I appoint Chunyu Dan."

He specifically granted 5,000 cavalry and dispatched Xu Sheng and Ding Feng as rear reinforcements.

IV Chunyu Dan, who had been specially chosen for the honor of leading the surprise attack, assaulted Shu’s Fourth Camp that night but was repelled by the unexpected Nanman forces and the valor of enemy general Fu Tong. Not only did he suffer severe losses, but his very life was endangered until he was barely rescued by the two reinforcing armies of Ding Feng and Xu Sheng and managed to return. "I have brought shame upon myself. "I ask that you investigate my crime of defeat in accordance with military law." Without even pulling out the arrows embedded all over his body, he came before Lu Xun to apologize.

“This is not your fault in the slightest.”

Lu Xun did not press charges. Rather, he claimed it was his own fault,

“In truth, last night’s raid was merely a test—using Chunyu Dan to probe Shu’s true strength.” “But through this, I have discerned the means to crush Shu.” Xu Sheng promptly pressed his concern. “If we repeat such night raids, we’ll only waste soldiers needlessly.” “What method ensures their defeat?” “At present, none under heaven know this art save Kongming.” “Fortunately, Kongming stands absent from this battlefield.” “This is heaven granting us victory!”

He summoned conch blowers and had them sound the shells. The officers and soldiers of all ranks from the various camps instantly gathered before him at this signal. Thereupon, Lu Xun stood upon the military command platform and issued a grand order to all his generals. “I have refrained from battle for over a hundred days, and heaven has withheld rain for more than a month. The moment has come! All three—heaven’s timing, earth’s advantage, and human unity—are now ours. First, Zhu Ran: Load the boats with thatch and similar materials, go out onto the river, and wait for the wind. Likely from around when tomorrow’s noon hour passes, a southeast wind will stir up the waves. When the wind rises, approach the enemy positions north of the river, hurl sulfur and saltpeter, and burn their camps to ashes with the wind’s aid.—Han Dang, lead a force and land on the northern shore at the same time. Zhou Tai, attack the south bank of the river. The remaining forces must stand ready to act as needed upon my command. Thus before tomorrow night passes, Xuande’s life shall fall into Wu’s grasp. Advance!”

Since becoming Chief Commander, this was the first time such proactive orders had been issued; Zhu Ran, Han Dang, Zhou Tai, and others all leapt into action and began preparations. Sure enough, from around noon the following day, wind and waves began to rise across the entire river area. At that moment, the flag that had been fluttering high above Shu’s central army snapped. “What does this omen signify?” When Xuande furrowed his brows, Cheng Ji respectfully replied. “This has long been considered an omen of a night raid.”

Just then, one of the generals keeping watch on the riverbank arrived to report. "Since last night, countless boats have been drifting on the river. Despite this wind and waves, they have not departed." Xuande nodded and replied, "I have already heard of this. It must be a decoy tactic. Until orders are given, do not act recklessly—and ensure strict vigilance among the naval forces as well."

Next came another report. "A portion of the Wu army has been observed moving steadily eastward."

"They seem to be persistently attempting to lure us out. It is not yet time to move."

As sunset approached, smoke rose from the Jiangbei positions. While watching what seemed like a wildfire, another blaze erupted from a camp slightly downstream. “This strong wind makes me uneasy. “Guan Xing, go check around.”

Even when night fell, the fires did not subside. No—fires had broken out not only on the northern bank but also on the southern bank. Xuande immediately dispatched Zhang Bao, sending him as a precautionary rescue force.

“These fires are suspicious.”

The night sky grew increasingly scorched a deep crimson. Was it the roar of waves or human screams? A ferocious gale whipped up spray and hurled sand through the air.

“Ah! Ah! Near the main camp too!” “Near the main camp too!” Someone suddenly screamed. Bone-dry leaves crackled into flames. That was from the grove immediately nearby where Emperor Xuande’s formation was positioned. “Look out!” When his camp fell into panic, figures indistinguishable as friend or foe darted through the smoke in chaotic disarray. “Enemy! “Wu soldiers!” Before Xuande’s eyes, an intense battle had already erupted. He was surrounded by his retinue and hoisted onto his horse’s back. Yet as they raced toward their ally Feng Xi’s position, flames clung to his battle robe’s sleeves and the horse’s saddle. No—the very grass beneath their galloping hooves and the treetops clawing at the sky had become fire.

Five

However, when they reached Feng Xi's position, it too was engulfed in utter chaos. Here, it was not merely fire—Wu's great general Xu Sheng had launched an assault, harnessing the raging flames as his ally to press the attack.

"What... what is happening?" Xuande began to mutter in bewilderment.

When caught in the maelstrom of the enemy's stratagem, one's own position becomes impossible to discern accurately. Xuande's state of mind was akin to this. "It's no use! This place isn't safe either! To Baidi Castle—we must reach Baidi Castle with all haste!"

Someone among the retinue shouted. The voice trembled, and the answering voice choked on smoke. In a frenzy, he spurred his horse. Through the flames. Through the smoke. Seeing this, Feng Xi, "It seemed Feng Xi had cried 'I shall accompany you!' and pursued with a dozen horsemen in tow," but along the way they encountered Xu Sheng and were slain to the last man. "There! Capture Xuande alive!" Xu Sheng, having raised Feng Xi's severed head, pressed forward with renewed vigor along the road. Before Xuande now lay Ding Feng of Wu with an army lying in ambush.

Naturally, they were pincered and found themselves cornered. If allies Fu Tong and Zhang Bao had not rushed here, his fate would have been left to Wu’s generals. However, just in time, allies who revered him arrived to their aid, and gradually shielded by a dense encirclement, they managed to flee toward Ma’anshan. Having fled to the mountaintop, Xuande finally regained his composure. From that lofty vantage point gazing out over the expanse of darkness lay an astonishing sight—a serpentine wheel formation of flames stretching seventy li scorched the earth and seared the heavens. Only now, standing there, did Xuande come to grasp the full scope of Lu Xun’s grand fire stratagem.

"The one to fear is Lu Xun." By the time he looked up to the heavens and cried out in anguish, Lu Xun’s forces had already tightly encircled the base of Ma’anshan. Intent on turning even this mountain into flames, they set fires from every surrounding mountain path. Countless great fire dragons reached into the heavens and came surging upward.

The tempest of war drums and roar of voices left the group encircling Xuande with no recourse but to stand their ground. However, the impetuous Guan Xing, Zhang Bao, and others were at his side. “Do not trouble yourself, Your Majesty.” Then they charged headlong down toward the foothill leading to the riverbank from a path where the flames thinned.

However, Lu Xun’s forces had an ambush lying in wait along this path where flames were absent. They broke through and escaped the danger zone, but the ambushers reinforced their numbers and pursued them without respite.

“Use fire to counter fire-wielding foes!” Someone, in a flash of quick thinking, set fire to the roadside grass. Yet these flames proved too feeble to stem the crisis, so the Shu soldiers snapped their arrows, cast off their armor, and even burned their flagpoles to feed the blaze. The fire then climbed through tree branches, erupting into a ferocious conflagration that finally checked the pursuing Wu troops. But when they reached the riverbank, fresh enemy forces awaited them—none other than Wu’s great general Zhu Ran lying in ambush.

When they turned back and took refuge in the valley, Lu Xun's banners surged up from the valley floor amid war cries. Just as Xuande cried out in despair—I shall die here!—unexpected reinforcements once again appeared before him. It was Zhao Yun Zilong of Changshan. As for why Zhao Yun had come here—his assigned post in Jiangzhou was closer to the battlefield than Hanzhong or any other region. When Zhuge Liang had parted ways with Ma Liang and returned to Chengdu, he had sent written orders: *Go at once and save the Emperor.*

It is thought that he had dispatched a missive with these instructions. In any case, Zhao Yun’s timely reinforcement proved a divine mercy amidst infernal circumstances. Yet how profoundly altered everything stood! When Xuande had first entered this Baidi Castle, a mighty host of seven hundred fifty thousand troops had been garrisoned there—yet now, they said barely a few hundred mounted retainers remained in attendance.

After ensuring that the Emperor had entered the castle, Zhao Yun Zilong, Guan Xing, Zhang Bao, and others immediately turned back from outside the city walls to regroup their scattered forces along the original route.

Stone Soldier Eightfold Formation

1. Once the entire army fell into complete collapse, Shu's camps that had stretched over seven hundred li became like villages reduced to isolated islets by a raging flood—severed from all function and communication, leaving each unit no choice but to fight Wu's surging muddy torrent as they saw fit. Therefore, countless Shu generals had met their deaths in battle from just yesterday to today. First, Fu Tong was surrounded by Ding Feng’s Wu forces,

“Rather than exerting futile strength in a hopeless battle, why not surrender to Wu and preserve your martial honor for years to come?” When urged by the enemy, Fu Tong revealed his final form at the vanguard, “I am a general of Han! Why would I surrender to you Wu dogs?!” With that, he charged into the midst of the great army and achieved a glorious death. Shu’s Libationer Cheng Ji, reduced to a mere dozen horsemen at his side, ran to the riverbank intending to join his naval allies and fight on—but finding it already occupied by Wu’s naval forces, he found himself utterly cornered.

Then, a Wu general appeared,

“Libationer Cheng! Libationer Cheng! Not a single Shu banner remains standing on land or water. Dismount and surrender!” said the Wu general. Cheng Ji’s hair whipped in the wind as he roared in response, “From the day I followed my lord until now, I have never known retreat in battle! When meeting the enemy, I know only to crush them!” With that, he maneuvered his steed in all directions before severing his own head in a defiant end. Shu’s vanguard commander Zhang Nan had long besieged Yiling Castle, pressing Wu’s Sun Huan relentlessly, when his ally Zhao Rong came galloping with news:

“The central army has been routed, causing the entire front to collapse. The Emperor’s whereabouts are unknown,” he reported. “At once!” Zhang Nan suddenly lifted the siege and sought Xuande’s whereabouts, attempting to regroup at the central army, but “Now is our moment!” Sun Huan from within the castle launched a pursuit, linked up with Wu forces in various locations, and blocked Zhang Nan and Zhao Rong at every turn. Consequently, the two were soon killed in the chaotic battle, unable to hold out. Not only were Shu’s high-ranking officers slain one after another in this manner, but even Sha Mo Ke—the barbarian general who had journeyed from the distant southern Nanman regions to join the reinforcements—was intercepted by Zhou Tai’s Wu army and ultimately had his head taken. Furthermore, Shu generals Du Lu and Liu Ning led their troops in surrendering to Wu’s main camp, entrusting their remaining lives—a pitiful outcome indeed.

"My plan has succeeded! It is accomplished!" "Now there remains but one task: to capture alive Emperor Xuande of Shu!" And so, Wu’s commander-in-chief Lu Xun now revealed his true capabilities. Seizing this great victory, he personally led a massive army, giving the enemy no moment to catch their breath as he relentlessly pursued in the direction Xuande had fled. Already, they had advanced to the front of Fishbelly Creek. Here stood a checkpoint of the old city. Lu Xun made camp to rest his troops and horses, and that evening, while gazing out ahead from the checkpoint—

“What is this? This...” He turned to the generals flanking him with a look of profound astonishment and declared: “Far along the mountains and facing the river, a murderous aura surges skyward. This can only mean enemy ambushers lie in wait, poised to strike. Do not advance—do not advance!” At once, they withdrew their position over ten li and ordered meticulous reconnaissance. Soon scouts returned one after another, delivering identical reports as if rehearsed: “None present. Not a single enemy soldier in sight.”

“There are none, sir. Not a single soldier resembling the enemy is visible.” Lu Xun remained suspicious. “Hmm?” He climbed the mountain again and stared fixedly at the distant sky. Then descended while growling under his breath.

"A dense ghostly miasma, menacing clouds of slaughter. How could there be no ambush here? It must be the scouts' inexperience."

“Select seasoned covert agents and have them conduct an even more meticulous reconnaissance.”

II The sun had set and night had fallen, but Lu Xun still seemed troubled. He repeatedly went to the front of the camp and gazed at the night sky over Fishbelly Creek.

“How strange! When night falls, there is an even denser murderous aura than during daylight.” “What manner of miraculously cunning troops could those ambushers be?” Even Lu Xun found himself wavering in doubt, seemingly unable to find mental calm throughout the night. Just before dawn, veteran scouts of exceptional skill finally— “We have verified it,” they reported upon returning. “However thoroughly we searched, we confirm there are no enemy soldiers there.” “Yet from the riverside rocks to the mountain passes, thousands of stones large and small stand piled like stone sentinels.” “When standing among them, a desolate wind stirs, and one feels a spectral chill creeping upon one’s skin.”

Lu Xun finally resolved himself and took over a dozen horsemen with him during the predawn darkness to Fishbelly Creek for an inspection tour on foot. There being four or five fishermen present, Lu Xun reined in his horse. "You there—locals! You must know why these stones stand piled high along this shore and mountainside at every turn," he inquired sharply.

Among them, an elderly fisherman answered, “A few years back, a man called Zhuge Liang moored ships here while journeying to Shu—disembarking many soldiers who drilled battle formations for days on end. But when they boarded their vessels and left, suddenly stone gates and towers appeared across this land! Piles upon piles of rocks shaped like men now stand where none were before.” “Ever since then, the river’s currents have flowed into strange paths, and whirlwinds sometimes arise, so no one dares enter that stone formation anymore.”

Lu Xun, upon hearing this, "So this is Kongming's mischief?" he muttered, then spurred his horse again and galloped up the slope to get a better look. When he climbed to a high vantage point and surveyed the area, the seemingly chaotic and imposing stone formation revealed an inherently orderly arrangement of strategically positioned rocks. Following the paths, there were gates facing all eight directions. Imitation soldiers, false formation. This is merely a deceptive trick meant to confuse people. The shame of having harbored unnecessary confusion over such a thing since yesterday! Lu Xun roared with laughter and then attempted to return by following the water's edge, tracing the mountain's contour, and taking a brief tour through the stone formation.

"Hmm?" "Another dead end?"

“No, it should be this way.” “No good! If we take this path, we’ll circle back to where we began!” The lord and his dozen horsemen wandered aimlessly through the maze-like terrain as though fox-possessed. Despite all efforts, escape from the Eight Formations’ labyrinth of scattered stones proved impossible.

Before long, the sun dimmed, a gale whipped up sand, white waves battered the chaotic shores, and heaven and earth in an instant revealed a fierce and perilous visage.

“Wh-what? Isn’t that the sound of war drums?”

“No, it’s the sound of waves,” Lu Xun corrected. “The wail of wind through clouds.” “We erred,” a subordinate groaned. “By dismissing mock soldiers, we fell into Kongming’s snare. Should night bring fiercer storms, we’ll become naught but waterlogged corpses here.” “Before darkness falls,” Lu Xun urged, “find us an exit.” The men’s eyes reddened with strain. Yet still they remained trapped within the stone maze.

Then, a white-haired old man suddenly appeared before them and stood there smirking. 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.” When Lu Xun courteously asked for directions, “I thought you were probably lost, so I came down from the mountain here.” “Come along now, this way.”

Leaning on his cane, the old man took the lead.

Without difficulty, Lu Xun and his subordinates emerged from the Eight Formations. “Farewell—please do not tell anyone I helped you escape from within these formations.” “It would reflect poorly on Huang Chengyan—Kongming’s father-in-law—you understand.”

Having said this, the white-haired old man—leaving his cane to drift with the wind—returned to the mountain veiled in evening mist. "A hunter chasing prey loses sight of the mountain—I, Lu Xun, committed a grave error by advancing this far." "That’s right—our army must not advance any further."

Whatever his reasoning, Lu Xun suddenly issued an order to the entire army and withdrew to Wu with lightning speed.

Calling Kongming

1 The defeat of Shu was as swift as a sudden storm, but their withdrawal unfolded with equal rapidity—like lightning striking and vanishing in the same breath. Thus did Wu's generals, drunk on victory, turn to Lu Xun and demand: "After all our efforts to approach Baidi Castle, you suddenly retreated upon seeing those stone decoys and disordered Eight Formations—what reason could you possibly have? It's not as if the real Kongming himself appeared before us!" They asked with thinly veiled mockery.

Lu Xun said earnestly.

"Indeed, it is true that I feared Kongming. However, there is another reason for my withdrawal. That will become fact within a day or two, and you all will come to understand it." The generals had dismissed it as a temporary excuse to escape blame, but a day passed—and on the second day—reports of sudden changes came pouring into this headquarters like comb teeth raking through hair, gathered from every corner of Wu. To wit:

"The grand army of Wei has divided into three routes: one led by Cao Xiu’s forces advancing to Dongkou; Cao Zhen pressing upon the borders of Nan Commandery; and Cao Ren already heading toward Ruxu—all surging southward like clouds and mist." "Just as I thought!" Lu Xun clapped his hands, celebrating his own prescience and deeming this turn of events a great boon for Wu, promptly assuming a battle-ready stance.

Meanwhile—Emperor Xuande, who had suffered an irrecoverable defeat at Lu Xun's hands and gone into hiding at Baidi Castle, found all traces of his former vigor had vanished. "I cannot return to Chengdu and face my ministers." The tattered curtains of the deep palace merely enveloped his wounded heart. Before long, Ma Liang—who had met Kongming in Hanzhong—returned and conveyed the Prime Minister's words, but the Emperor— "Though it amounts to mere complaint now—had I heeded Your Excellency's counsel, I would never have suffered such misery as this day brings," he lamented bitterly, his heart yearning for that distant advisor. Yet still he 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 courtiers informed Xuande, “We should execute Huang Quan’s wife, children, and clan.” they urged, but Xuande, “No, no—Huang Quan surrendered to Wei because the Wu army had completely cut off his retreat, leaving him no path to advance or return.” “Huang Quan did not abandon me; it was We who abandoned him—that is Our crime.” Instead, he ordered that his 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 did not rejoice at all. Then Cao Pi,

“Do you object?” Cao Pi inquired. When pressed, “As a defeated commander who barely escaped execution,” Huang Quan replied, “I could ask for no greater mercy than this.” He implicitly declined the offer of service.

At that moment, a Wei official entered and deliberately raised his voice: "According to a report from a spy who has just returned from Shu territory, Huang Quan's wife, children, and entire clan have incurred Xuande's wrath and been executed," he announced. When he heard this, Huang Quan gave a bitter smile. "That must be some misunderstanding or malicious lies spread by schemers. My emperor would never commit such an act," he said, instead maintaining faith in their safety.

Cao Pi dismissed him without another word. And immediately after that, he unfurled a map of the Three Kingdoms and summoned Jia Xu in secret. “Jia Xu, to unify the realm under Our rule—should We first conquer Shu or strike at 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." "But through Your Majesty’s heavenly might, the day will surely come when your desires are fulfilled."

“Now our Wei army exploits their vulnerabilities and advances upon Wu along three routes. What outcome will this yield?” “There will likely be no advantage whatsoever.”

“Earlier, you urged me to attack Wu; now you declare it inadvisable. Your counsel shows no consistency from beginning to end!”

Cao Pi’s mind was remarkably sharp. Even Jia Xu, that master strategist, found himself occasionally outwitted by him.

Two But Jia Xu, persisting resolutely, said:

“Indeed,” “Had Wu still been under pressure from Shu’s forces and in sustained retreat, that would have been Wei’s perfect moment to invade.” “But now the tides have turned completely—Lu Xun has crushed Shu utterly, Wu’s morale now burns a hundred times fiercer than before, and they stand unassailable.” “Thus I say attacking Wu now brings only disadvantage—this is why I advised against it.” “Silence.” “The Imperial Forest Army already marches on Wu’s frontier.” “This emperor’s will is set.”

Cao Pi turned a deaf ear. After reinforcing the three-pronged grand army, he personally advanced to oversee the battlefield. While attacking Shu on one front and repelling Wei on another, Wu—under Lu Xun’s command, which demonstrated divine speed and tactical brilliance—confronted Wei’s triple-pronged forces with unshaken composure, defending tenaciously and fighting fiercely. Foremost among these defenses was Wu’s most critical stronghold—the solitary fortress of Ruxu near its capital Jianye. Wei deployed Cao Ren to this strategic point. Cao Ren assigned his generals Wang Shuang and Zhuge Qian over fifty thousand cavalry troops and ordered them to besiege Ruxu.

“If we capture this place, it will be like thrusting a dagger into the heart of Jianye, the enemy’s capital.” “All forces—press onward!” “The time to achieve great merit is now!”

The command post where Emperor Cao Pi of Wei had come to oversee the battle stood exactly at this location. Thus did Wei's morale surge to unprecedented heights; the skies over Jiangbei and Jiangdong grew dark with battle aura that eclipsed the crimson sun, while killing intent trembled the very axis of the earth.

At that time, the Wu general in charge of defending Ruxu was Zhu Huan, who was only twenty-seven years old. Zhu Huan was young but courageous. Having previously dispatched five thousand garrison troops to reinforce Xianxi, the remaining soldiers in the city were few, and everyone was:

“With this small force, we can never hold out against Wei’s massive army. We must either withdraw now to join up with the rear forces or bring them here while requesting fresh reinforcements from Jianye. Otherwise, we cannot fight them on equal terms.” Seeing his troops trembling in panic, Zhu Huan gathered his principal subordinates and declared: “The Wei army blankets every mountain and river before us. But they’ve marched far through scorching heat—soon their very numbers will plague them. Two things await them: plague in their ranks and famine. Though few, we hold cool highlands with ironclad defenses—the great river to our south, sheer cliffs to our north. This is the classic stratagem of awaiting their exhaustion through our ease. As The Art of War states: ‘When invaders double defenders’ strength, defenders still prevail.’ History proves battles on open plains hinge on tactics, not numbers. An army without morale is doomed. You all must trust my command and cling to this truth: we shall win every battle. Tomorrow I ride forth to prove this before your eyes!”

The next day, he deliberately showed weakness and lured the enemy forces closer.

Wei’s Chang Diao abruptly charged toward the city gate. But the gate’s interior was silent, appearing to have not a single soldier.

“The enemy has no will to fight. They might have already fled through the rear gate!”

The soldiers all carelessly clung to the castle walls while Chang Diao rode his horse to the edge of the moat to issue commands. A deafening explosion erupted. Hundreds of banners unfurled atop arrow towers, watchtowers, stone walls, and gate towers like ten thousand blossoms blooming at once. Crossbows and arrows cascaded down upon the Wei soldiers. The city gates swung open wide as Zhu Huan charged alone into the chaotic enemy ranks and felled Wei general Chang Diao with a single stroke of his blade. When Cao Ren heard of his vanguard's peril, he immediately led his grand army forward—but upon turning around, found Wu troops surging like storm clouds from Xianxi Valley, their golden drums thundering behind him as they severed his retreat.

Truly, this day's defeat marked the beginning of a losing streak for the Wei army. From then on, they suffered defeat after defeat; no matter what they did, they could not prevail against Zhu Huan's army.

Just then, reports of defeat also arrived from the two fronts at Dongkou and Nanjun. To make matters worse, even Emperor Cao Pi’s return route became imperiled, so Cao Pi finally abandoned this endeavor here and, swallowing his bitter regret, rolled up his banners of defeat and withdrew temporarily back to Wei.

Entrusting the Orphaned Child

1

From around the fourth month of that year, Emperor Xuande of Shu fell ill in a guest residence at Yong'an Palace, his condition growing graver with each passing day. "What is the hour?" The sleepless night attendants and court physicians who were trimming the candle before his pillow replied, "Are you awake, Your Majesty? It is now the third watch." Staring at the pale-glowing candle by his sickbed, Xuande muttered to himself, "So...it was but a dream." Until dawn broke, he recounted memories of the deceased Guan Yu and Zhang Fei to his attendants.

Whenever the opportunity arose, the officials all urged, "Your Majesty should return to Chengdu and convalesce at leisure," but he—"Having suffered this defeat, how could I possibly show my face to the officials and people of Chengdu?"

and each time he would frown deeply, still seemingly tormented by the shame of his defeat at Wu's hands. The illness finally appeared critical. Perhaps he had already come to realize his fate,

“I wish to see Prime Minister Kongming.” Liu Bei uttered.

The emergency 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 accompanied only by the two young princes, Liu Yong and Liu Li, he journeyed day and night until he arrived at Yong’an Palace. He prostrated himself at the bedside and wept upon seeing Xuande’s ravaged form. “Closer… Come closer.” “Even closer.” The Emperor commanded his close attendants to provide a seat upon the dragon bed, extended his slender hand toward Kongming’s back, and proclaimed thus.

“Forgive Us, Prime Minister. We, with Our meager talents, were only able to achieve imperial greatness through Heaven’s grace in granting Us your counsel... In the end, We disregarded your admonitions and brought about this defeat—now Our body’s illness has reached its final hour... After We are gone, We must entrust all affairs of state—both domestic and foreign—to you alone... So long as Kongming remains in this world after Our passing—this alone shall be Our sole reliance as Xuande takes his leave.” Torrents—endless torrents—of tears streaming down his ailing face served only to soak Kongming’s collar.

“Your Majesty… I beg you to preserve Your Majesty’s health—at least until the Crown Prince comes of age.” As Kongming entreated through choked sobs, the Emperor lightly shook his head and dismissed all nearby attendants from the chamber.

Among them was Ma Liang’s younger brother, Ma Su. Ma Su’s figure, with eyelids red and swollen from weeping, appeared heartrending.

Xuande suddenly asked. “Prime Minister, how have you assessed Ma Su’s capabilities in your daily observations?” “A promising young man,” came the reply. “I view him as a future hero.” “No—during my illness, as I closely observed him,” Xuande countered, “his words proved excessive while his courage and talent fell short. I have come to think he will be difficult to rely on in the future.” His voice grew urgent. “Employ him with utmost caution.” He had been speaking of such matters in his usual manner when, as dusk approached, his condition suddenly took a turn— “Are all the officials gathered here?”

he asked, and when Kongming answered, “All your subjects remain gathered here without sleeping a wink—” “Then open the sickbed curtains.” he ordered and, from the dragon bed, granted a final audience to all present. And then, (Edict Bestowed Upon Crown Prince Liu Shan) [He] entrusted the [edict] to his ministers, instructing them, “There must be no disobedience,” and having finished speaking, closed his eyes once more, then turned to Kongming and— “I was raised in humble lands and did not read much, but by this age, I believe I have come to understand what life is about. Cease your needless lamentations.”

Having said this, he seemed about to deliver some final words, his lips solemnly composing his breath.

II

The bond between Xuande and Kongming now stood separated only by the boundary between life and death—a matter of a few breaths. Forgetting himself, Kongming clung to the Emperor’s dragon bed, pressed his face close, and spoke through tears. "If there is any edict you wish to leave behind, please command me without reserve." "Though I am unworthy, for as long as this breath remains in me, I shall engrave Your Majesty’s words in my heart and ensure no regrets linger in your thoughts." "Well spoken." "Xuande will now depart from this world." "My deeds are done." "Now that I have entrusted these vital words to you, Prime Minister, placing faith in your unwavering loyalty, I have no further concerns."

"...When Your Majesty speaks of those vital words..."

“Prime Minister, ‘A man about to die speaks sincere words,’ they say. You must not show undue modesty toward Our words. ...Your talent surpasses Cao Pi’s tenfold. Nor can one like Sun Quan stand shoulder-to-shoulder with you. Therefore you shall secure Shu and make Our foundation ever imperishable. Yet Crown Prince Liu Shan remains young—his future cannot be known. If he truly possesses an emperor’s innate qualities, nothing would please Us more than your assistance. But should he prove incompetent and lack imperial caliber—Prime Minister—you yourself must become Shu’s emperor and govern the people...”

Kongming kowtowed and wept, utterly at a loss for where to place his hands and feet. What a resolute decision! What a heroic yet tragic edict! It declared that if the Crown Prince proved incompetent, you must rise and complete the imperial enterprise. Kongming struck his head against the foot of the dragon bed and wept so violently it seemed blood might flow from his eyes. Xuande then summoned his two young princes, Liu Yong and Liu Li, close to his side. "After I am gone, you brothers shall serve Kongming as your father." "If you disobey your father's words, you will be unfilial sons." "Do you understand...?"

Having thus admonished them, he fixed his gaze—lingering with a parent’s reluctant parting—for a time, then turned once more toward Kongming and—

“Prime Minister, please be seated there. I will have my children pledge fealty and bow before him who shall stand as their father.”

he said.

The two princes lined up before Kongming, swore not to oppose him, and performed a 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 countless battles and hardships together, but today at last marks our parting. “Keep your honor untarnished to the end.” “Also, together with the Prime Minister, I entrust the young ones left behind to you.”

Having said these words, he repeated the same to Li Yan, and addressing the other civil and military officials, "I sense my life drawing to a close." "I cannot leave individual instructions for each of you." "Let all of you unite to uphold the state, and may every one protect and cherish it well."

When he finished speaking, he suddenly breathed his last. He was sixty-three years old.

It was April 24th of the 3rd Year of Zhangwu in Shu.

Amidst the voices of grief and sorrow within Yong'an Palace, Kongming soon escorted the coffin back to Chengdu.

Crown Prince Liu Shan went out of the city to meet them and, in deep mourning, conducted daily and nightly rituals. Then he opened his father’s posthumous edict, read it reverently, and— “I shall assuredly bring peace to Your Majesty’s spirit in the netherworld.” He declared this intent at the altar and swore it before his officials. The Shu officials too repeatedly recited the late emperor’s posthumous edict from memory, pledging to Kongming that they would never act contrary to it.

"A state cannot endure even a single day without its sovereign," declared Kongming after deliberating with the hundred officials. That year, he elevated Crown Prince Liu Shan to the imperial throne and conducted a grand ceremony to inherit Han's legitimate succession.

At the same time, the era name was changed, and the 3rd Year of Zhangwu became the 1st Year of Jianxing.

The new emperor, Liu Shan, style name Gongsi. Though he was only seventeen years old at the time, he revered Kongming and honored his words in accordance with his father’s posthumous edict. By the Emperor’s decree, Kongming was enfeoffed as Marquis of Wuqing and assumed governance of Yizhou Province. Furthermore, in August of that year, once the grand funeral at Huiling was completed, the state council posthumously honored the Late Emperor Liu Xuande with the title Emperor Zhaolie. A general amnesty decree was issued, and throughout the land, all praised Emperor Zhaolie's virtuous legacy while praying that his lingering radiance might grace the new emperor's reign.

Fish Crest I

I

Xuande's death had a profound impact.

When word spread that the Shu Emperor had passed away, none rejoiced more than Wei Emperor Cao Pi,

“If we dispatch a great army at this opportunity, might we not capture Chengdu in a single strike?”

He consulted his ministers with tiger-like intensity, but Jia Xu— Jia Xu staunchly opposed the rash action, as if declaring through unspoken implication: "Kongming remains there."

Then, from Cao Pi's retinue, one figure abruptly rose, "To strike Shu—the moment is precisely now. If not now, when else should we expect to achieve this crucial endeavor?"

Then, there was one who bolstered the Wei Emperor’s words. “Who is this person?” they wondered. When they looked, it was Sima Yi, style name Zhongda—a man from Wen City in Henei. Cao Pi wore a knowing expression in secret, “Sima Yi. And your plan?” he asked with a sidelong glance.

Zhongda bowed respectfully and—

“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 grand Five Routes strategy to prevent Kongming from coordinating relief between fronts, how could we fail to breach even Shu’s natural defenses? Especially now when Xuande is gone and they have only just established the orphaned heir Liu Shan.” “What manner of tactic is this ‘Five Routes’?” “First, dispatch an envoy to Liaodong bearing gold and silks for the Xianbei king, mobilizing 100,000 Hu and Yi troops from Liaoxi to advance upon Xiping Pass. This constitutes the first route.”

“Hmm.” “The second route?” “Second: Dispatch a secret envoy to the distant Southern Barbarian Kingdom, promise King Meng Huo substantial future gains, press him to mobilize 100,000 barbarian troops to attack Yongchang and Yuexi in Yizhou Province, thereby threatening Shu’s heartland from the south—this constitutes the second route.” Zhongda’s eloquence flowed like a torrent as he laid out his arguments. “Third: We shall establish neighborly relations to mobilize Wu, pressing them toward both rivers and the gorge entrance. Fourth: Command the surrendered Shu general Meng Da to lead a force of 100,000 troops centered on Shangyong to capture Fucheng.” “Furthermore, for the Fifth Route: appoint General Cao Zhen of Your Imperial Clan as Grand Commander of the Central Plains to lead a grand formation in a direct assault against Shu through Yangping Pass. Even if Kongming exhausts his wisdom devising countermeasures, he will be unable to defend against attacks from five routes totaling five hundred thousand troops.”

The scale was grand; the strategy, ingenious. Captivated by his solemn voice that spoke each word with conviction, not a single person in the full hall raised any objection—and Cao Pi above all felt supreme satisfaction as he issued the decree: “Implement this strategy at once.” Envoys immediately rushed to five fronts, and the military headquarters in Wei’s capital now exhibited an unusual tension. Yet there lingered a tinge of melancholy—for by this time, many veteran generals from Cao Cao’s era like Zhang Liao and Xu Huang, once celebrated as meritorious retainers, had already been enfeoffed as marquises and were spending their twilight years within their respective domains.

That said, there was certainly no shortage of newly risen talents either. Since Cao Cao's time, Zhongda had long remained merely a civil official at his lord's side, but his sudden rise to prominence now vividly signaled the dawning of a new era. As for Shu's Chengdu during this period—all government affairs were entrusted to Kongming's judgment, with veteran ministers remaining united and showing 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 reached fifteen years of age, and thus she was installed as Empress in the main palace to attend upon the Young Emperor Liu Shan.

However, scarcely a few days had passed since this celebration when a cataclysmic report arrived—Wei’s grand army was advancing against Shu through five routes. Moreover, Prime Minister Kongming—whose presence was most critical—had inexplicably failed to appear at morning court audiences for several days now.

II

Urgent couriers reporting crises from five border fronts passed through Chengdu’s gates in rapid succession like comb teeth.

The gravity of the situation and the unease throughout both court and countryside grew more palpable with each report. The contours of Wei's massive invasion through their Five Routes strategy became widely circulated among the populace, rumored to unfold as follows: The First Route: Fifty thousand troops from Liaodong's Xianbei Kingdom (Liaoning Province) would breach Xiping Pass (Gansu Province/Xining) and drive into Sichuan.

The Second Route: Meng Huo, King of the Southern Barbarians (parts of Guizhou, Yunnan, and Burma), would lead approximately seventy thousand troops to sweep through southern Yizhou Province.

The third route: —Sun Quan of Wu would ascend the Yangtze River and invade from the gorge entrance into both rivers. As for the fourth route: —Centered on the rebel general Meng Da, Shangyong’s forty thousand troops would strike Hanzhong. Furthermore, as for the fifth route: —Employing Wei’s main force under Grand Commander Cao Zhen to breach Yangping Pass, coordinate with allies across all four borders, invade Shu in full force, and crush Chengdu—it was estimated that combining these five routes’ total forces would exceed five to six hundred thousand troops.

Needless to say, Young Emperor Liu Shan was terrified. Parting from his Imperial Father felt like only yesterday, and his ascension as Emperor of Shu remained a matter of mere recent days.

“Why does Kongming not appear? Summon him at once!” Emperor Liu Shan repeatedly demanded, clinging to the Prime Minister as his sole pillar of support. Though envoys had been sent countless times from the palace gates to Kongming’s residence, he kept his gates shut. “His Excellency has recently been too ill to attend morning court,” came the gatekeeper’s reply—a bare statement that offered no audience no matter how urgently they impressed upon him the crisis’ gravity. As fear and anguish tightened their grip on Emperor Liu Shan, he dispatched two imperial envoys: Palace Attendant Dong Yun and Grandee Remonstrant Du Qiong.

The two men promptly visited the Prime Minister’s residence. However, just as the rumors had said, the gate was shut, and the guards adamantly refused—no matter what they said, they would not permit entry. Having no other choice, the two men raised their voices loudly from outside the gate, “Cao Pi of Wei has raised five armies along five routes! Our national defense now stands on the brink of peril across all fronts!” “Yet Your Excellency—the Prime Minister himself—uses illness as a pretext to avoid morning court! What could possibly justify this?” “Has so much time passed since the Late Emperor entrusted this orphan to your care? Is even the earth of Huiling’s tomb still moist today?”

and in a fit of anger, they berated him. Then came the sound of hurried footsteps from within the inner garden as someone answered through the closed gate: "His Excellency the Prime Minister has declared he will depart his residence at dawn tomorrow to attend court and confer with all officials." "You may return today." With no alternative, the two men withdrew and faithfully reported this to the Emperor. Meanwhile, all officials had gathered in the council hall since morning, convinced the Prime Minister would surely appear this time. Yet noon passed, sunset fell, and still Kongming did not come. Voicing a tumult of grievances and condemnations, all officials dispersed at twilight's edge.

The Emperor's anguish was no ordinary matter. As soon as dawn broke the next day, he summoned Du Qiong, "The situation grows urgent—Kongming still does not attend court. How should we handle this crisis?" he entreated.

“There is no other choice. In this situation, there remains no alternative but for Your Majesty to personally undertake an imperial visit to Kongming’s gate and graciously inquire directly into his intentions.” Emperor Liu Shan entered the Western Palace to meet his mother, the Empress Dowager. “I shall go,” he explained in detail.

The Empress Dowager was also taken aback, "Why would Kongming now act in a manner that defies the Late Emperor's final decree?" Though she herself intended to direct her carriage to question Kongming, deeming it far too presumptuous for Her Majesty to make an imperial visit, the Emperor immediately proceeded to the Prime Minister's residence. It was the city officials and gate officials who were astonished. Caught off guard by the sudden imperial visit, they were at a loss where to place themselves, prostrated themselves, and welcomed 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 in fear.

"He was by the pond in the inner garden, patiently watching the fish swim," "We believe he might still be there."

III The Emperor strode resolutely alone to the inner garden. There stood someone at the pond's edge - leaning on a bamboo staff, gazing fixedly at the water's surface. "Prime Minister," he called from behind, "What are you doing here?"

When the Emperor called out from behind, Kongming threw down his staff and prostrated himself on the grass. “When did Your Majesty arrive?! "...I failed to come greet you. I beg Your Majesty to forgive this grave offense." "Such trivial matters aside, Wei’s large army advances along five routes to invade our borders. “Do you not know of this, Prime Minister?” "When the Late Emperor was about to pass away, he entrusted Your Majesty to this unworthy minister and charged me with state affairs." "How could this unworthy minister possibly remain unaware of such major recent events?"

“Then why do you not appear at court deliberations?”

“Precisely because I hold the office of Prime Minister—were I to appear at court without plans or actions, it would only spread confusion among the officials—I have kept solitary silence and pondered deeply these days.” “Thus standing daily by this pond, watching the fishes’ nature while contemplating the emptiness of ripples against the substance of their swimming—drawing parallels to this world’s ways—today amidst such reflections, a strategy suddenly arose in my mind.” “…Your Majesty need no longer trouble yourself with anxieties.”

With that, Kongming ushered the Emperor into a hall, strictly dismissed all others, and secretly presented countermeasures. “Ma Chao of Shu was born in Xiliang. Among the Hu and Yi tribes, he is hailed as the Divine Might Heavenly General and still commands formidable prestige.” “Therefore, by having him defend Xiping Pass—when the time comes and circumstances change, he will subdue the Hu and Yi forces. The defense of this front will pose no concern whatsoever.”

As for the defense of the two routes, he further expounded: "Though southern barbarian commanders may be fierce by nature, they lack initiative, harbor deep suspicions, and are prone to internal discord—weaknesses that make them vulnerable to strategic deception." "I have already issued a proclamation authorizing Wei Yan to deploy decoy troops across key positions in southern Yizhou. Your Majesty need not trouble your imperial mind over this front." He continued: "Regarding Meng Da's impending advance from Shangyong toward Hanzhong—he was originally a Shu general versed in classical texts and bound by strong ties of righteousness to your ally Li Yan." "No man who understands propriety and reads poetry can be wholly devoid of conscience." "I shall compose a letter in Li Yan's hand—given their life-and-death bond—and have it delivered to Meng Da through proper channels." "Thus tormented by his own conscience, Meng Da will find himself unable to advance yet ashamed to retreat—ultimately resorting to feigned illness while vacillating indecisively.... As for Yangping Pass where Cao Zhen's main force attacks—its impregnable terrain combined with Zhao Yun Zilong's stalwart defense renders it virtually unassailable." "When viewed holistically, these four fronts pose no true threat. Though their coordinated assault appears grand in scale, I judge it mere empty posturing from our perspective." "Nevertheless, as added insurance, I secretly ordered Guan Xing and Zhang Bao to command twenty thousand troops each as mobile reserves, ready to reinforce any threatened position. May Your Majesty rest assured."

And so, for the first time, he presented this matter in a memorial to Emperor Liu Shan, laid out every preparation in full, and finally declared: "However, the crux lies entirely in Wu's movements." At this point, he intensified his gaze and altered his tone, his expression revealing an inner conviction that all strategic priorities centered on Wu alone. "This minister judges that even if Wei pressures Wu to mobilize troops, Wu would never rashly obey such orders—given their longstanding enmity and severed diplomatic ties. The only danger to anticipate arises if Wei gains clear advantage across Shu's four battlefronts and our defeat becomes evident." "When that reality manifests, Wu will join the tide and surge through the gorge passes like floodwaters." "But while Shu's defenses remain unbreachable iron walls, Wu will not act." "They refuse to bow beneath Wei's shadow." "...What now occupies my thoughts is selecting the envoy to bear this vital mission to Wu." "Who proves suitable? I pursue this choice relentlessly—but...?"

Four

Together with Kongming, the Emperor had entered a hall deep within the gardens and, even as time passed, showed no sign of returning. Therefore, the attendants and retinue below the chamberlains, who had been standing idly outside the gate and had grown utterly exhausted from waiting, whispered among themselves: “What could His Majesty be occupied with?”

They clustered together, whispering their suspicions and doubts, even beginning to propose urging His Majesty to return promptly.

At that moment, Kongming was seen following behind the Emperor, finally walking this way. The Emperor's countenance was now graced with a clear, bright smile—so unlike his demeanor before entering—as if he had become an entirely different person. When all the officials observed His Majesty’s countenance, His Majesty must have had a favorable meeting with Kongming. Inferring this, even the attendants in the imperial carriage retinue suddenly became cheerful, and the return procession grew exceedingly lively.

Then among the retinue, there was one who, laughing while gazing up at the sky, was reveling in solitary delight. Kongming took brief notice, but soon, as the imperial carriage began to move,

“You alone stay behind.” With that, he stopped the man and, after completing the send-off,

“Come here.”

He led him inside the gate. Then he gave him a seat on the raised platform of a pavilion and began his interrogation. “Where were you born?” “I hail from Xinye in Yiyang.” “Your full name?” “Deng Zhi, styled Bo Miao.” “Your present office?” “I serve as Minister of Revenue, currently conducting an audit of Shu’s household registries.”

“Matters like household registries hardly seem your proper calling.” “I have never entertained such thoughts.”

“Why were you laughing alone among the retinue earlier?” “Because I simply couldn’t contain my delight.” “What could possibly be so amusing?” “What do you mean? Your Excellency has demonstrated an unshakable grand strategy against Wei’s five-pronged attack. As a citizen of Shu, how could I not rejoice in this?” “You’re not one to let your guard down.” Kongming shot a piercing glare. Yet this was rather a gaze that seemed to cherish Deng Zhi’s talent. “If you were to devise that strategy, what measures would you take at this juncture?”

“I may not be such a great statesman,” he said humbly yet pointedly, “but defending those four fronts would pose little difficulty.” His tone sharpened slightly as he leaned forward. “The true challenge lies solely in how we handle Wu.”

“Very well. “I charge you with this task.” Kongming suddenly spoke solemnly, then ushered him into a hall where they engaged in a secret discussion lasting several hours, after which he hosted him with wine and sent him home.

The next day, Kongming attended the morning court for the first time. And presented a memorial to Emperor Liu Shan, “I have found a man to send as an envoy to Wu. Though it is an exceptional appointment, I humbly request Your Majesty’s imperial approval.” “Though it is an exceptional appointment, I humbly request Your Majesty’s imperial approval.”

That is to say, he had recommended Deng Zhi. Deng Zhi was deeply moved, "If I cannot fulfill this mission, I will not expect to return alive." Declaring this, he departed that very day.

At this time, Wu had changed its era name to Huangwu and was growing increasingly powerful when Cao Pi of Wei proposed, "Let us jointly attack Shu and divide it between us. I have a grand plan for a four-pronged invasion; let the noble state of Wu also send a great army upstream along the river to simultaneously surge into Shu." In response to this military alliance proposal, the cabinet meeting became divided between those in favor and those opposed, making it difficult to reach a swift resolution.

Sun Quan found himself unable to issue a decisive command. (In that case, I should summon Lu Xun and sound out his true intentions.) He had just dispatched a messenger to urgently summon Lu Xun to Jianye when the strategist arrived. At the Jianye cabinet meeting, Lu Xun laid out his vision, providing clear direction to the national policy that had been wavering between two paths. "If we reject Wei's proposal now," he asserted, "Wei will inevitably bear resentment - perhaps even form a temporary truce with Shu and turn their spears against us. Yet submitting to Wei's demands to attack Shu would drain immeasurable resources in funds and manpower. Should we exhaust ourselves thus, disaster would swiftly descend upon Wu next." "Though Wei boasts many capable talents," he continued, "Shu still possesses Kongming - they won't fall easily. Our best course now is to feign advancement without moving forward, simulate battle without engaging, making strategic delay our guiding principle while observing the progress of Wei's four-pronged campaign." "If Wei's banners unexpectedly gain advantage," Lu Xun concluded, "that resolves the matter - we need only order our armies to invade Shu immediately."

Shu-Wu Alliance Restoration

I.

In summary, Lu Xun’s strategy was: First: do not oppose Wei’s demands; second: avoid forming lasting enmity with Shu; third: steadily strengthen their own forces and comply with favorable developments. Such was the strategy. In accordance with this principle, Wu’s forces from then on advanced their armies but refrained from engaging in battle, instead dispatching spies in all directions to diligently gather intelligence and monitor the war situations of both Shu and Wei. Sure enough, the four-pronged Wei army had not advanced favorably in accordance with Cao Pi’s calculations. First, the Liaodong forces had reportedly been repelled by Shu’s Ma Chao at Xiping Pass; the Nanman forces had fallen into disarray in southern Yizhou after encountering Shu’s decoy troops; Meng Da of Shangyong—whether truthfully or falsely—claimed illness and refused to move; and even Cao Zhen’s central army had been driven back from Yangping Pass and Xie Stone after Zhao Yun seized their strategic positions—truly, it was reported that the entire campaign had ended in utter defeat.

"Ah... Truly fortunate," Sun Quan thought to himself. Had Wu pressed forward without heeding Lu Xun's counsel, the dire straits they would have faced defied imagination. "Truly, Lu Xun's foresight approached divine calculation." Now that events had unfolded thus, Sun Quan sincerely celebrated their narrow escape while deepening his trust in Lu Xun who had offered such sage advice. At that precise moment, courtiers announced the arrival of Deng Zhi from Shu bearing credentials as an envoy.

Zhang Zhao said to Sun Quan, "This man undoubtedly embodies Kongming’s true intentions." “How shall we receive him?” “First test this envoy,” “to discern his character.” “Our response may then follow accordingly.” Sun Quan ordered his warriors to erect a massive bronze cauldron in the palace forecourt. They filled it with five hundred catties of oil, heaped firewood beneath, and brought it to a rolling boil. “Admit the Shu envoy!”

Sun Quan waited proudly with his ministers across the steps, poised like a predator ready to strike. A thousand warriors stood arrayed from the palace gates to the base of the stairs, their halberds, dagger-axes, spears, and axes glinting coldly in formation. That day, Deng Zhi emerged from the guesthouse wearing threadbare robes and a plain cap—his unremarkable appearance so humble that attendants might mistake him for a mere follower as he trailed behind his guide without ceremony. Yet this man showed no trace of fear at the forest of blades filling Wu’s palace grounds, nor did he flinch at the cauldron’s roaring flames. When he reached the foot of the stairs, he simply grinned upward at Sun Quan’s dais. The curtain was swept aside—and before Sun Quan’s gaze could fully descend, his voice thundered:

“You who come before me yet refuse to bow—where do you hail from, and what manner of man are you?”

he rebuked. Deng Zhi stood proudly, remaining firmly in place,

“It is customary for an imperial envoy from a superior state not to bow to the ruler of a minor realm.”

Sun Quan contorted his face like a boiling oil cauldron: "You insolent worm! With that three-inch tongue of yours—do you fancy yourself another Li Yiji persuading the King of Qi? Pathetic fool! Even if you wielded the eloquence of ancient persuaders like Sui He or Lu Jia, could you truly move this Sun Quan's heart? Begone! Begone!" "Hahaha! Ahahaha!" "You lout! What mirth finds you here?"

“I had heard Wu was filled with heroes as numerous as stars and sages beyond count, but who could have imagined you’d tremble so before a lone Confucian scholar?” “Silence! Who do you think I am to fear the likes of you?” “Then why does Your Majesty fear this one’s tongue?” “It is Kongming who employs you. No doubt Kongming seeks to use envoys to drive a wedge between our Wu and Wei, aiming instead to rekindle the old alliance between Wu and Shu.” “I am, at the very least, an emissary of the Shu Empire—and furthermore, the foremost envoy and Confucian scholar selected from within Shu. To receive me with a path bristling with swords and spears and to host me with a great cauldron of boiling oil—what sort of conduct is this? Does the King of Wu, along with all your ministers in Jianye Castle, truly lack the caliber to receive a lone envoy such as myself? Truly... this defies all expectations.”

When he spoke with such bitter disappointment, even the assembled ministers felt ashamed; perhaps Sun Quan had come to reflect somewhat on his own pettiness—for suddenly he dismissed all the imposing warriors and finally invited Deng Zhi to a seat in the palace hall.

Two "I ask again: As Shu’s envoy, what have you come to persuade this Sun Quan of?" "As Your Majesty stated earlier, I have come to seek the restoration of relations between Shu and Wu."

“If that is so, then this lord has grave concerns. With the Shu ruler Xuande now deceased and the Later Ruler being young in years, whether they can preserve the state’s dignity henceforth remains uncertain.”

When Sun Quan broached the matter this far, Deng Zhi felt confident in his heart that he had him. “Your Majesty is an outstanding talent of this age, and Kongming is a peerless genius of our era. “Shu has its steep mountains and rivers; Wu has the defense of its three rivers. “With this foundation, what deficiency or anxiety could there be in forming a lips-and-teeth alliance? “Your Majesty possesses such formidable national power yet styles himself a vassal to Wei—but just wait and see. “Wei will find a pretext and will surely demand a royal prince as a hostage. “At that time, if you do not obey Wei’s command, Wei will launch a full-scale attack on Wu while simultaneously presenting favorable terms to our Shu to urge a military alliance. “The waters of the Yangtze flow swiftly downstream—if Shu’s naval and land forces were to accept Wei’s entreaty, could Wu possibly remain secure?”

“…………” “What does Your Majesty think of this?” “…………”

“Alas.” “Alas! It cannot be helped!” “Your Majesty has regarded this humble one as a mere persuader from the very beginning.” “And Your Majesty’s foremost concern is not to be deceived by sophistry.” “This humble one does not utter these words for personal merit alone.” “Solely wishing peace between our two nations—for Shu’s sake and Wu’s—I have spoken with all my being.” “Please send your reply through an envoy to Shu.” “Since I have now delivered all an envoy’s words should convey—to prove their truthfulness—I shall end my life here before Your Majesty’s eyes.”

No sooner had Deng Zhi finished speaking than he abruptly dashed from his seat and attempted to leap into the great cauldron of boiling oil from atop the staircase. “Wait, I beg you, sir!” Because Sun Quan shouted this, the court ministers rushed over and restrained Deng Zhi from behind just as he seemed about to leap. “I have fully understood your sincerity, sir. “There exists a minister who does not disgrace his sovereign’s command when serving abroad, and there exists a prime minister who discerns such men and employs them well. Shu’s future can be divined by this single matter alone. “Sir, first take your seat as an honored guest. “We will give full consideration to your country’s wishes.”

Abruptly, Sun Quan altered his demeanor. At once, he commanded his attendants to set up a grand banquet in the rear hall and, extending the courtesies due to an honored guest, received Deng Zhi anew.

Deng Zhi's mission achieved great success. Was it his fervor that prompted Sun Quan to undergo a complete change of heart, or was it because the groundwork for abandoning Wei had already been laid within Sun Quan? In any case, the possibility of restoring diplomatic relations between Wu and Shu was now secured here, and Deng Zhi was warmly entertained while remaining in Jianye for ten days.

When it came time for his return, Wu minister Zhang Yun was newly appointed as the return envoy and was to go to Shu together with Deng Zhi.

However, this Zhang Yun was considerably inferior in character compared to Deng Zhi,

(I will not yet permit the signing so easily.) I must first see Shu's true condition with my own eyes. He approached Shu with an attitude that practically declared, "Whether this treaty succeeds or fails depends entirely on my report." In Shu, having recognized the initial success of their Wu policy, everyone from the Later Ruler Liu Shan down to the lowest subjects expressed national jubilation. On the day Zhang Yun entered the capital gates, there was an extraordinary welcome. This made Zhang Yun grow even more arrogant. He looked down contemptuously at Shu's officials and, when ascending to the palace hall, sat insolently at Emperor Liu Shan's left side in a tiger-like posture.

On the third day, a welcome banquet in his honor was held at the Seiun Hall of Chengdu Palace. This evening as well, Zhang Yun continued to behave insolently, but Zhuge Liang treated him with even greater deference and allowed him to have his way.

Three When the wine had flowed freely midway through the banquet, Zhuge Liang turned to Zhang Yun and said, "The late Emperor's orphaned child, Lord Liu Shan, has recently ascended to the precious throne and deeply admires the virtue of the King of Wu in secret. Upon your return home, I earnestly beseech you to petition His Majesty the King of Wu to forge enduring goodwill between our Shu and Wu, that we may strike at Wei together through mutual cooperation, so that the day when we may share the joy of common prosperity might soon arrive." He repeated this entreaty with utmost humility, keeping his words deferential and his courtesy profound.

“Hmm... Well, we shall see how things unfold.” Zhang Yun narrowed his eyes, glancing sidelong at Kongming as he spoke, then deliberately diverted the conversation elsewhere and laughed with arrogance while putting on airs of sophistication. When the day of departure finally arrived, the imperial court presented him with a vast quantity of gold and silk, while Kongming along with all civil and military officials bestowed brocade, gold, and silver as farewell gifts. Zhang Yun wore a beaming face. And just as Zhang Yun was attending the final farewell banquet at Kongming’s residence, a burly man stomped into the feast,

“Well, Mr. Yun, I hear you’ll be returning home tomorrow. How was it? And your observations of Shu? Hahaha. Well, let me have a cup,” he said, sitting near the guest of honor and suddenly reaching out. Zhang Yun, as if his dignity had been wounded, made an unpleasant face and turned to his host Kongming. “Who is he?” “He?” he asked.

Kongming replied, introducing him as a scholar of Yizhou named Qin Mi, styled Zichuo—whereupon Zhang Yun sneered, "A scholar? Hmph. These young scholars these days..." At this, Qin Mi composed his expression, drew himself up, and turned his gaze toward him. "You say I am young, but in our land of Shu, even three-year-old children follow the custom of study. Therefore, once they exceed twenty years of age, every one of them possesses fully competent 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 ancient and modern times, the books of sages and worthies—there is nothing these eyes have not beheld,” Qin Mi declared boldly before pressing further: “In your land of Wu, what age must one attain to be acknowledged as a scholar in society? If one only acquires proper learning at sixty or seventy, how many years would remain for them to contribute to the world?”

Zhang Yun, who had been in such high spirits, made a face as if he had been slapped backhanded across the cheek. Then—whether he deemed this an irritating young upstart or sought to showcase his own erudition— "Very well," he declared, "allow me to pose a question." With that, he fired off difficult queries spanning astronomy and geography, classical texts and historical records, military strategy and more—one after another in relentless succession. Yet Scholar Qin Mi drew examples from antiquity to modern times, recited passages verbatim from memory, and answered each challenge with such fluid mastery that every listener sat utterly spellbound.

Zhang Yun wore a face that had sobered completely, "Does Shu have many such brilliant talents?"

And at last he fell silent, and as if ashamed of himself, had slipped away from the banquet before anyone noticed.

Kongming, greatly worried that he might have caused him to depart Shu in shame, invited him to a separate chamber, "You have already attained the practical knowledge to bring peace to the realm and govern the state, but someone like Qin Mi remains a youth who can wield scholarship only as scholarship—it is the difference between an adult and a child, so I beg your forgiveness. No one took the banquet's jests as anything more than momentary amusement."

and deeply apologized to console him. And so, Zhang Yun also, "No, I don’t give it any thought regarding the young men."

With that, he regained his composure. The following day, he departed for his homeland, with Deng Zhi of Shu once more accompanying him as a reciprocal envoy.

Before long, the Shu-Wu alliance came into being, and formal documents were exchanged between both nations.

Full-Scale Warship Construction

I

In Wei, they had recently lost two senior vassals in succession. The deaths by illness were those of Grand Marshal Cao Ren and strategist Jia Xu. Both were tremendous losses to the state. “Wu has formed an alliance with Shu.” At this very moment, when Emperor Cao Pi was told this by Attendant Gentleman Xin Pi,

"It must be a mistake," he scoffed, refusing to believe it.

However, successive reports relentlessly pounded the irrefutable facts into his ears. Cao Pi was enraged.

“Very well! Since matters have become this clear, it only simplifies their resolution. Was my hesitation at advancing through the gorge entrance also rooted in this? This emperor shall not rest until they fully taste this retribution!”

With a single command, he immediately turned southward, creating the appearance that the entire Wei army would crush Wu in unison. Xin Pi admonished him to desist. “Today—when even the five-pronged operation against Shu’s borders ended in failure—to raise another army to subjugate Wu would hardly be wise for domestic stability.” “Moldering scholar! Do not meddle in military affairs!” Cao Pi roared. “For what purpose would Shu and Wu forge an alliance? Is it not to assail our Wei capital? Would you have us sit idle and await their strike?!” The imperial wrath burned with terrifying ferocity. At this moment, Sima Zhongda—

“Wu’s defenses treat the Yangtze River as their lifeblood,” Sima Yi advised. “Unless we make naval forces our primary focus and construct formidable warships, we cannot anticipate assured victory.”

This preparation greatly coincided with Cao Pi’s thinking. The Wei navy had already possessed approximately two thousand ships and over a hundred warships, but they further had dozens of shipyards build vessels day and night. Moreover, in this latest warship construction plan, they built unprecedented large vessels unlike any before. The keel measured over twenty zhang in length and could carry more than two thousand soldiers. They called these Dragon Ships, and after launching over a dozen of them, in the autumn August of the fifth year of Huangchu in Wei, they added over three thousand other vessels and advanced toward Wu like "a floating Great Wall."

They selected a route that avoided the Yangtze River waterways, proceeding instead from Cai and Ying to the Huai River in Hubei, advancing through Shouchun and Guangling before crossing the Yangtze to engage Wu's navy in a decisive river battle. Immediately afterward, they conducted an amphibious landing at Nanxu on the opposite shore and pressed toward Jianye. Cao Zhen of the imperial clan once again served as vanguard commander, supported by veteran generals Zhang Liao, Zhang He, Wen Ping, and Xu Huang, while Xu Chu and Lü Qian assembled the grand army around the imperial canopies and banners at the center, serving as guards during the emperor's personal campaign.

The impact Wu received was tremendous.

"To think he would attack so suddenly—" Sun Quan was thrown into disarray, and the assembled ministers turned pale. At that moment, Gu Yong advised: "Since this army was born of the Shu-Wu alliance, Shu naturally bears the obligation to support Wu with its full strength. We must inform Zhuge Liang to have the Shu army strike toward Chang'an immediately, while Wu fortifies Nanxu's strategic strongholds." Yet the situation seemed too dire to be stemmed by such minor stratagems.

“Call Lu Xun! Summon Lu Xun!” “No sound strategy can be devised without him.” Sun Quan hastily moved to recall him from Jing Province, but Xu Sheng—present at that day’s council—dared to reproachfully declare: “Your Majesty, all your subjects consider themselves your very limbs. Why then does Your Majesty so lightly disregard these limbs?” Xu Sheng, whose style name was Wenxiang, hailed from Langya Ju County and had long been renowned for military acumen. Sun Quan fixed his gaze upon him,

“Ah! There you are, Xu Sheng! If thou wouldst personally undertake Jiangnan’s defense, what cause for concern could remain? I shall entrust thee with Jianye and Nanxu’s forces—how wouldst thou fare as Commander-in-chief?” He stared intently at him, measuring the depth of his conviction.

Xu Sheng gave a clear answer. “If Your Majesty would deign to entrust this unworthy Xu Sheng with such a grave responsibility, I shall stake my life to crush Wei’s grand army and present victory before you. Should I fail, even if Your Majesty executes my nine clans and condemns my crime, I shall harbor no resentment whatsoever.”

II

It was reported that Wei’s grand expeditionary fleet, having mobilized with full force, had already descended from Cai and Ying (Henan and Anhui Provinces) along the Huai River, with its vanguard now rapidly approaching Shouchun (Nanyang, Henan Province). And with each arrival of these urgent reports, all of Wu’s officers and soldiers now staked their lives on the front line of national defense, “If we do not triumph here, this nation perishes! If we do not have this country, there is no us,” they marshaled their total strength. However, against the orders of the newly appointed National Defense Commander-in-Chief Xu Sheng, a single problematic figure emerged who opposed every matter. 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 that— "We must assemble our forces with utmost urgency, cross to the northern bank, and crush Wei’s navy at Huainan—the southern bank of the Huai River in Henan." He persistently argued that if they kept going on about national defense while idly awaiting the enemy, once Wei’s grand army landed here, the people throughout the realm would be thrown into upheaval, leading to irreparable chaos."

Xu Sheng was strongly opposed, “To cross the Yangtze and engage in battle would already place our forces at a severe disadvantage. Wei’s vanguard consists entirely of veteran renowned commanders. They cannot be defeated by some rash surprise attack. Only when they ride their momentum, cross the river, and gather here—that will be the time to annihilate Wei.” He advocated this and proceeded with all preparations under that strategy. By now, it was heard that Wei’s warships had already surged into the Huai River, and nearby strategic points were being ravaged by their land forces. Sun Shao gnashed his teeth,

“How can you just sit and watch this?!” he pressed Xu Sheng again and again. “I denounce the flaws in your passive tactics! If you lend me an army, I’ll cross to the north bank and present Cao Pi’s head!” “Let me undertake this desperate mission! If you refuse, I’ll gather comrades and march forth even if I must desert under cover of darkness!” he petulantly insisted.

Xu Sheng finally reached the limit of his patience. "You unruly transgressor of military discipline!" he rebuked, then commanded his warriors, "Behead Sun Shao! If we leave such a self-willed individual unchecked, I cannot enforce my commands to the various generals!" he declared, taking resolute action. The warriors pulled Sun Shao and pushed him outside the camp gate. They were about to carry out the execution, but given that he was the beloved nephew of Sun Quan, King of Wu, "You do it." "No, you do it!"

"No, you do it, damn you!" Thus they bickered noisily as they passed the blade between them, wasting precious time. During this delay, someone must have raced to inform the Wu Palace, for in his shock, the King of Wu himself came galloping to intervene. Sun Shao, saved by his uncle's intervention, seized this moment to press his case further: "Having once been stationed at Guangling, I know that region's geography like the back of my hand. When I urged my strategy upon Xu Sheng and begged him to lend me troops, he took it as a personal insult and tried to have me executed instead!"

Because Sun Quan was fond of this nephew, he greatly valued his spirited resolve,

“Hmm, hmm…” “So you insist we should advance and strike before Cao Pi crosses the Yangtze with his massive fleet?” “Exactly. If we idly wait for Wei’s grand army, Wu will surely fall.”

“Very well. I shall go to the camp with you and see what Xu Sheng has in mind. Follow me.” With that, the executioners and warriors joined the retinue and set out.

Xu Sheng welcomed the king and was surprised by his visit, but then composed himself and rebuked his liege. “Was it not Your Majesty who appointed this humble subject as Commander-in-Chief? Now, as I am rigorously enforcing military discipline, what is the meaning of Your Majesty yourself violating military law?” Even the King of Wu had no words before the irrefutable logic, merely citing Sun Shao’s youth and impetuous valor as reasons, “Forgive him. Now, now—just this once, please forgive him.”

he could only repeat, “Forgive him. Now, now—just this once, please forgive him.”

Naval Battle on the Huai River

I

To Sun Quan, his nephew Sun Shao was both the son of his righteous elder brother and heir to his brother's house, the Yu clan. Therefore, if he were sentenced to death, his elder brother's house would also be extinguished. Though he held the position of King of Wu, the gravity of military law was something he could not easily alter; thus Sun Quan even spoke of such circumstances as he pleaded with Xu Sheng for his nephew's life. "In consideration of Your Majesty's imperial visage, I shall spare him the death penalty." "However, I may punish him anew after the war." "But you would do well to bear that in mind."

In response to the King’s words, Xu Sheng had no choice but to concede. Sun Quan said to his nephew at his side, “Express your gratitude to the Commander-in-Chief. Prostrate yourself in thanks.” Then Sun Shao declared defiantly, “No!”

he shook his head. And still, on the contrary, raising his voice, “I will never obey the utterly cowardly strategies of the Commander-in-Chief from this day forward!” “My refusal to comply may be in violation of military law, but I firmly believe it to be the greatest stratagem for Wu!” “This loyal soul—how could it fear death?” “And bending my original resolve is something I utterly despise!” he spat out. At this obstinacy, even the King of Wu seemed utterly dumbfounded,

“You selfish brat! Xu Sheng—never again employ such a self-willed fool in your ranks!”

As if unable to bear staying any longer, he suddenly mounted his horse and returned to the palace gate.

Then, that evening, “Sun Shao has taken three thousand of his men, arbitrarily dispatched warships, and crossed the river.” The report jolted Xu Sheng from his sleep. “Tch. “So he’s finally slipped out.”

Xu Sheng was enraged, but he could not simply abandon him to die. Without warning, he had Ding Feng’s four-thousand-strong army pursue them as reinforcements.

That day, Wei’s grand fleet advanced as far as Guangling. The vanguard’s scout ships left the river and surveyed the Yangtze, but found nothing but an expanse of water—all ordinary traffic had ceased, and not a single small boat could be seen. Cao Pi, upon hearing this, “Perhaps the Wu forces on the southern bank have some scheme in mind. We shall personally conduct a grand inspection.”

Having said this, he had his flagship, the dragon ship, depart from the river mouth into the Yangtze, then ascended to the ship’s tower to survey Jiangnan. Upon the flagship fluttered five-colored banners of dragons, phoenixes, suns, and moons, its majesty arrayed with white yak-tail standards and golden battle-axes—their brilliance near-blinding to behold. Along Guangling’s rivers and lakes, countless warships burned torches, their fiery glow blotting out the very stars in the sky; yet wherever one gazed upon Wu’s southern coastline, all lay shrouded in ink-black darkness.

Jiang Ji, attending at his side, advised.

“Your Majesty. As things stand, 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.

“Substance and void—it is said that even gods and demons cannot fathom them,” Liu Ye cautioned. “That is the essence of military strategy. Do not be hasty in seeking merit; first, we should spend several days carefully observing the enemy’s disposition.” “That’s right—there’s no need to rush,” Cao Pi agreed. He had already mentally conquered Wu. Before long, moonlight glimmered on the water as several swift boats came rowing like arrows—scout ships returning from deep within enemy territory. According to their report: “Throughout Wu’s lands, every shore we surveyed lay desolate, devoid of people. Not a single lamp burned in the towns; the villages resembled graveyards. They must have evacuated long ago upon hearing of Your Majesty’s impending attack.”

Cao Pi laughed uproariously. “That must indeed be the case,” he nodded in agreement. As the fifth watch of night drew near, a dense fog descended across the Yangtze River basin. For a time, nothing remained visible but swirling mists and black waves churning within arm’s reach. Yet when dawn broke and the sun climbed high, the fog dispersed completely—revealing skies so clear that the opposite shore ten li distant seemed close enough to grasp. “By heaven!” “What manner of sorcery is this?”

The officers and soldiers on the deck were all aghast, pointing at each other. A general ran up the ship’s tower and was loudly reporting his astonishment about something to Cao Pi’s cabin.

II

Wu’s Commander-in-Chief Xu Sheng had by no means been idle or without a plan. The fact that his staunch emphasis on defense had been a premise for eventually shifting to an active offensive was later realized. As dawn broke, amidst the officers and soldiers on deck exchanging exclamations of shock, Cao Pi too emerged from his cabin. Shielding his eyes to look, he saw that indeed, it was no wonder his subordinates had been struck with terror. The landscape along Wu’s coastline for hundreds of *li* had transformed overnight.

Though scout agents had reported that until last night, there had been not a single light, not a single banner, nor a single human figure visible in any port or village, now looking out, one saw ports lined with land ramparts and water forts, mountains thick with fluttering war banners, hills bearing crossbow platforms and stone catapult towers, while along critical points of the riverbank, countless warships gathered their masts like a forest—all proclaiming that this stretch of water was now a bulwark of national defense, pulsing with martial intensity. “Ah! What manner of strategy is this indeed? It appears Wu possesses a commander of such caliber that even Wei lacks.”

Cao Pi could not help but heave a long sigh and, despite them being enemies, extolled it as splendid.

In short, this was Wu’s Xu Sheng covering all defensive facilities visible from the river with vegetation and cloth, relocating residents elsewhere and applying camouflage to fortresses—thus completely blinding the enemy’s eyes. And upon detecting signs that Cao Pi’s flagship and the entire Wei fleet were emerging from the Huai River’s narrows into the Yangtze, they discarded all coastal camouflage overnight and boldly displayed their preparedness for decisive battle.

"Since he possesses such conviction and preparation, it is difficult to fathom what schemes he might have," Cao Pi abruptly ordered a return to the Huai River’s port. However, misfortune struck as his flagship ran aground on a sandbar at the narrow river mouth, leading to chaotic efforts to free it that lasted until dusk. Finally, just as the ship’s bottom had cleared the sandbar, a gale fiercer than the previous night’s burst forth. All vessels were tossed wildly into empty air, waves shattered ship towers, men were flung across decks—in short, it became a night of utter terror.

“Danger! Danger! We’ll run aground again!” “We’ll run aground again!” In the darkness, warning one another while being battered by the gale, soon ships began colliding—rudders were shattered, masts snapped—until amidst the roaring fury of heaven and earth, the entire fleet lost all ability to move.

Cao Pi, seasick from the ship’s motion, lay in his cabin like a gravely ill patient. Wen Ping carried him on his back, transferred him to a small boat, and barely managed to land at a trading port nestled within the Huai River’s embrace. His seasickness vanished as though forgotten the moment his feet touched solid ground. Since Wei’s land headquarters were located here, by the time he entered them, he had regained his usual vigor—the Cao Pi everyone knew. “What a dreadful ordeal,” he said. “But this storm should subside by dawn,” he continued, discussing with his generals—though this respite proved fleeting.

When midnight arrived amidst the raging storm, two swift couriers arrived, “General Zhao Yun of Shu has emerged from Yangping Pass and launched a lightning assault on our Chang’an!” Upon hearing this dire report, Cao Pi turned deathly pale. “Chang’an lies at Wei’s vital core—a keystone stronghold. Zhuge Liang has surely discerned our prolonged campaign’s weakness and moves to strike this opening. We cannot leave it undefended for an instant!” That very night, he issued orders for full retreat across land and naval forces. Emperor Cao Pi waited for the storm’s fury to abate slightly before attempting to return to his dragon flagship.

Then, from somewhere across the river, approximately three thousand soldiers appeared, set fire to Wei’s main camp, destroyed it in a single strike, and pursued the Wei Emperor.

“Friendlies?” “An accidental fire?” What they had thought [to be allies or an accident] turned out to be Wu forces. The Wei Emperor and his generals were thrown into utter panic. Abandoning their allies whose corpses now formed mountains under the swift onslaught, 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 burst into a sea of flames in an instant. This area had reeds so thick that even the shadows of large ships could be concealed, but the Wu army had doused them with a large amount of fish oil and set them ablaze all at once tonight.

Thousands of Wei’s large and small ships—some burned and sank in the distance, others exploded nearby, engulfed by raging flames and oil-fueled fire dragons writhing across the waves—while along hundreds of *li* of the Huai River, even by the next day, thick black smoke hung so densely that none could discern the battle’s final outcome.

Southern Campaign

I

Several days after Cao Pi’s grand ambitions had come to naught and he withdrew his forces, gazing across the Huai River basin revealed a desolate expanse stretching hazily as far as the eye could see—nothing but charred reeds lining both banks, the smoldering wrecks of great ships and small boats sunk in flames, and the endlessly drifting corpses of Wei soldiers upon the oil-slicked waters. Truly, the losses Wei suffered at this time were no less than the great defeat at Red Cliffs during Cao Cao’s era. It was said that human casualties alone likely exceeded more than one-third of their forces. Wu’s captured spoils—ships rendered inoperable and abandoned, along with provisions and weapons—amounted to an enormous tally. But what especially made them proclaim the joy of this great victory was,

“Even Wei’s renowned general Zhang Liao was among those who met their end in battle.”

Such was the case.

Thus, Wu’s defensive capabilities were further fortified with unshakable confidence in their impregnability. When it came time to apportion honors based on military merits, the one who was recommended as having achieved the foremost accomplishments was Sun Shao, nephew of Sun Quan.

“With valor, he penetrated enemy territory, seized critical military opportunities, struck at Wei’s main camp, threw Cao Pi’s inner circle into disarray, and slew countless of the enemy’s most renowned generals—” It was a memorial from Commander-in-Chief Xu Sheng that stated such, but Sun Quan,

“No, no. Such deeds of luring the Wei army into arrogance and drawing them into the Huai River’s narrows cannot compare to the grand strategy of our Commander-in-Chief, who meticulously prepared a far-reaching plan to secure this great victory. The foremost military achievement must be none other than Xu Sheng’s.”

Thus he praised Xu Sheng as foremost and Sun Shao as second-in-merit, after which rewards were distributed in order from third place onward to Ding Feng and others. The following year, Shu welcomed the spring of Jianxing's third year in peace. Shu's prosperity stood visible to all. Zhuge Liang diligently supported the young emperor and devoted himself to internal governance and national strengthening. The people of both river regions grew deeply attached to his virtue, and Chengdu's gates remained open even at night. Moreover, bountiful harvests continued these past two or three years; all willingly labored at public works, while heartwarming scenes of old and young alike enjoying themselves with full bellies could be seen throughout the countryside.

However, even such a state of peace and prosperity for the people inevitably had to revert to the bustle of a military state depending on its neighboring regions' circumstances. At that time, urgent couriers from the south came galloping into Chengdu, "Meng Huo, King of the Southern Barbarians, has invaded our borders. The commanderies of Jianning, Zangke, and Yuexi have all joined forces with him. Only Wang Kang, Governor of Yongchang Commandery, remains loyal and fights a desperate lone battle—but none can say how long even he will hold out," they reported urgently.

At this moment, Zhuge Liang was truly decisive and swift. That very day, he attended the morning court and had an audience with the Later Sovereign Liu Shan, "If we do not subjugate the Southern Barbarians now and demonstrate Your Majesty’s imperial authority, they will remain a perpetual threat to the state." "I have long deliberated upon the opportune moment for this, but now we can no longer afford to delay." "Since Your Majesty is still young, I humbly request that you devote yourself to governance in Chengdu during my absence."

With that, he bid farewell.

The Later Sovereign appeared deeply uneasy, “I have heard the Nanman region is a land of sweltering heat, where even the climate itself is extraordinary. Why not send another general instead?” Liu Shan made a gesture that was not quite a farewell, but Kongming shook his head in refusal, “Even if this humble advisor is not present, the defenses of our four borders will remain secure. Moreover, I have stationed Li Yan at Baidi Castle. With him there, he should be able to effectively counter even Lu Xun of Wu’s strategic acumen. Furthermore, as Wei pressed against Wu last year and suffered significant losses in both troops and large ships, it is safe to assume they lack the vigor to suddenly redirect their ambitions elsewhere.”

After offering various words of comfort and requesting a brief leave of absence, Zhuge Liang finally received the Later Sovereign’s nod of assent—but then Imperial Counselor Wang Lian, who had been standing nearby, once again interjected: “Prime Minister, you are the very pillar upon which our state relies. Yet now you would lead an expedition into those southern barbarian lands with their treacherous climate and terrain—this fills us with grave unease.” “The rebellion in the barbarian frontier is like an irritating skin rash—if attended to, it becomes a nagging ailment, but left alone, it will heal naturally in time.” “Could you not reconsider this course?” he pressed urgently.

II

In response to Wang Lian’s loyal counsel, Zhuge Liang expressed gratitude for his goodwill but remained unwavering in his original resolve, stating thus: “Your words are most reasonable. However, the lands of the Southern Barbarians are barren and plagued by miasma, far removed from civilization. Moreover, their people have not been bathed in the Emperor’s grace. To govern them, mere military force alone will prove insufficient—yet neither can we accustom them solely to profit and virtue.” “To balance rigidity with flexibility, martial force with benevolence, and adapt to the times with thoroughness—I myself must lead this expedition.” “By no means is this a matter of Kongming desiring to boast of petty merits.”

Though Wang Lian continued to remonstrate repeatedly, Kongming defiantly refused to comply. That very day, he selected dozens of generals, divided them into various units, and led a total army of over five hundred thousand to march toward southern Yizhou.

Along the way, Guan Yu’s third son and Guan Xing’s younger brother—Guan Suo—joined them alone on horseback.

“Where have you been until now?” Kongming inquired with both suspicion and tears glistening in his eyes. For during Jingzhou’s fall, he had stood by his father Guan Yu’s side—until this very day, he had been confirmed as one fallen in battle.

“When Jingzhou fell, I sustained grave injuries and was sheltered in the Bao family’s home,” Guan Suo explained. “Hearing rumors of Your Excellency’s march against Nanman, I raced here without pause between day and night.” Zhuge Liang’s eyes glistened as he replied, “Then take your place in the vanguard and win honors worthy of your father’s name. That you stand beneath Shu’s banners again—you whom we mourned as dead—must be Lord Guan Yu’s guiding hand at work. This augurs well for our campaign’s commencement.”

Kongming’s joy was beyond measure, and Guan Suo—now resurrected—leapt into action to join the vanguard forces.

Already, they had entered southern Yizhou. The mountains and rivers were treacherous, the climate sweltering—the hardships of military campaigns here were beyond any comparison to the battles of the Central Plains.

The Governor of Jianning (Yunnan Province, Kunming) had formed a united front with Zhu Bao of Yongke Commandery,

“Zhuge Liang coming himself is exactly what we hoped for.” First, they deployed sixty thousand troops to the pass, lying in wait to crush them. The commander of these sixty thousand troops was E Huan—a fierce general whose face appeared as though painted with indigo ink, his tusk-like teeth perpetually bared beyond his lips. When enraged, he resembled a demon; wielding his fangtianji halberd, he was renowned as a warrior unmatched by ten thousand men and the foremost in all of Yunnan.

On the first day of the opening battle, it was Shu’s Wei Yan who faced this foe. Having been entrusted with a strategy by Zhuge Liang, Wei Yan refrained from reckless displays of valor and instead focused on wearing down his opponent through tactical ingenuity. On the seventh day of battle, he coordinated with Zhang Yi and Wang Ping from the allied forces to adroitly drive the fierce general E Huan into a layered encirclement, ultimately capturing him alive.

However, Zhuge Liang untied his bonds, released him, and as he was about to depart, admonished him thus: “Your lord must be Gao Ding of Yuexi Commandery.” “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 loyally advise Gao Ding.” Having been spared his life, E Huan immediately returned to his own army’s encampment and met with his lord Gao Ding to speak of the Shu army’s strength and Kongming’s virtue. At that very moment—most inopportunely—Yong Kai arrived there. Yong Kai widened his eyes and looked at E Huan.

“I heard you were taken prisoner in today’s battle—so why have you returned here?” Gao Ding responded to that, “Kongming is truly a benevolent man. Combining reason with compassion, he admonished E Huan and spared his life, allowing him to return.”

Then Yong Kai burst out sneering. “That’s just that bastard’s trickery.” “The so-called ‘benevolence’ of the Shu people—isn’t that exactly what makes them our enemy?”

While he was saying this, a night attack occurred, and Yong Kai fled back to his own castle, leaving the conversation unfinished.

The next day, Yong Kai exited his castle, closely coordinated with his ally Gao Ding, and repeatedly beat barbarian drums and shell gongs to challenge them to battle—but Kongming merely watched with a smile. “Stay back and observe for now.”

For three days they did not fight; for four days they did not sortie; and for approximately seven days, they remained calmly within their barricades.

III

"They seemed to underestimate the Shu army, thinking them weak." On the eighth day, the Nanman army advanced in full force. As if he had drawn a diagram on the ground, with precise strategy, Kongming had been waiting for them. And then they captured a large number of prisoners. The prisoners were divided into two groups and placed into two separate detention centers. In one [detention center], only Yong Kai’s soldiers were placed; in the other, solely Gao Ding’s troops were confined. And deliberately, Kongming had rumors spread throughout the area.

“Since Gao Ding was originally a loyal servant of Shu, his subordinates would likely be released, but Yong Kai’s men would all be executed.”

One detention center rejoiced. In one detention center, they wept in sorrow. After some days had passed, Kongming first had Yong Kai’s subordinates brought out and interrogated them in groups. “Whose men are you?” “We are Gao Ding’s soldiers.” “Is that so?” “We are indeed Gao Ding’s soldiers.” Not a single one claimed to be Yong Kai’s subordinate.

“Very well. If you are indeed Gao Ding’s soldiers, I shall grant you special mercy.” “No one knows Gao Ding’s loyalty better than I, Kongming.”

He untied all their bonds and set them free.

The next day. This time, he brought out Gao Ding’s true subordinates, untied their bonds, and even treated them to wine. And Zhuge Liang mingled among them, “Your master Gao Ding is truly a man of admirable honesty.” “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 from Yong Kai came to plead with the Shu Emperor: ‘If you guarantee our territories’ safety and promise rewards, we will deliver the heads of Gao Ding and Zhu Bao at any time.’ So he declared before departing.” “I sent him away because I trust in Gao Ding’s loyalty, but does this not show how your master is being exploited as Yong Kai’s pawn?”

he recounted as if engaging in casual conversation. The simple-minded Nanman soldiers, upon being released and returning to their own encampment, all lavished praise on Kongming’s magnanimity and even turned to their lord Gao Ding to— “Do not let your guard down against Yong Kai!” they advised. Gao Ding also grew suspicious and secretly sent someone to Yong Kai’s camp to investigate. There as well, Yong Kai’s subordinates were constantly praising Kongming wherever they gathered, so he became utterly unable to tell whether Kongming was an enemy or an ally—such was the man’s report.

“……Then, could it be that Yong Kai and Kongming are colluding after all?”

For good measure, he sent a trusted confidant to investigate Kongming’s camp. However, the man was discovered by a Shu ambush along the way, “He’s a suspicious fellow!”

and was dragged before Kongming. Upon seeing him at a glance—

“Ah, aren’t you the man who came before as Yong Kai’s envoy? After all this time we’ve been eagerly waiting, there’s been no word. What have you been doing about it? Return swiftly and inform your master Yong Kai that we await his favorable response.” He drafted a letter, entrusted it to his subordinates, and had them deliver it to a secure location. The man, having narrowly escaped with his life, bounded back to Gao Ding’s camp in high spirits. Gao Ding, who had been waiting impatiently, demanded, “How did it go?”

When he asked, the man doubled over with laughter and said, “On the way, I was captured—just when I thought all was lost—but 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.” “Please have a look first,” he added, presenting it before his master. Gao Ding was aghast when he read it. The letter declared that if Gao Ding and Zhu Bao presented their heads and pledged surrender, he would petition Shu’s Emperor to grant them lavish rewards—and further pressed them to act with all haste. Gao Ding let out a deep groan and sank into thought. Before long, he summoned his general E Huan and showed him the letter.

“What do you make of this?” “And how do you view Yong Kai’s true intentions?”

With that, he consulted him, his breath ragged.

IV

As for E Huan, he was even more blunt than his lord. He immediately bared his fangs and flew into a rage. “With such clear evidence before us, there’s nothing to hesitate over. If you still harbor any doubts, you should hold a banquet in the camp and test him by inviting Yong Kai. If he is upright and honorable, he will come; but if he harbors ill intent, he will hesitate and not show up.”

Moreover, as a second plan, he also advised: “If he does not come, then his duplicity will be clear, so you yourself should launch a surprise attack at midnight tonight.” “I will lead a separate force and attack the rear of their camp.”

Gao Ding finally resolved to carry it out as planned. Sure enough, Yong Kai did not come, using the military council as a pretext.

Gao Ding launched a night attack. This was a complete bolt from the blue for Yong Kai. Moreover, Yong Kai’s subordinates had been in a demoralized state for some time, and among them were those who joined forces with Gao Ding’s troops and aided the collapse from within. As a result, Yong Kai could not even put up a single battle’s resistance and attempted to flee alone on horseback. E Huan, who reached the rear gate, instantly brandished his trusty halberd and took his head in a single strike. At dawn, Gao Ding took the head and surrendered to Kongming’s camp. Kongming verified the head, then suddenly turned to the warriors around him and—

“Slay this traitor!”

Gao Ding was astonished. He both wailed and protested resentfully. “Prime Minister, throughout this campaign, you have shown mercy time and again to this unworthy Gao Ding—mercy for which I have been deeply grateful. Yet now that I come pledging surrender, why must I be slain at once? What reason could there be for this?” “Are you a fiend wearing the mask of a benevolent sage?” “No matter your words, your surrender is undoubted deception.” “I have commanded armies these many years—how could I be tricked by the likes of you?”

Zhuge Liang took out a letter from the box and barked, “Look at this!” before hurling it before Gao Ding. The handwriting was unmistakably Zhu Bao’s. Already enraged, Gao Ding’s hands shook uncontrollably as he tried to read it. “Inspect it well,” Zhuge Liang pressed. “Zhu Bao’s letter surely warns that you and Yong Kai are sworn brothers who would lay down their lives for each other—urging caution against letting our guard down. From this alone, we can deduce that this head is forged and your surrender is a scheme plotted with him! You may protest—‘Why trust Zhu Bao’s fragmentary words?’—but know this: Zhu Bao has begged to surrender not merely once or twice already. His current anxiety stems solely from lacking achievements to prove his worth!”

Upon hearing this, Gao Ding gnashed his teeth, leapt up, and shouted.

“Prime Minister! Prime Minister! Grant Gao Ding but a few more days of life! The one I can never hate enough is Zhu Bao! It was he who first dragged me into Yong Kai’s rebellion! Now he betrays this Gao Ding to fulfill his own scheming ambition—even devouring his flesh and crushing his bones would not sate my hatred! That filthy beast! Should I perish here by his deception, Gao Ding would die with unavenged grievances!” “And what would you accomplish with those few days?”

“Of course.” “If I may carry Zhu Bao’s head to prove my loyalty and then receive your rightful judgment, even death would fulfill my deepest resolve.”

“Very well.” “Go forth.”

Zhuge Liang encouraged him. After about three days, Gao Ding returned to this military camp with a force that surpassed his previous one. And placed Zhu Bao’s head before Kongming,

“This is no counterfeit head! Open your eyes and look carefully!” he declared.

Kongming saw it at a glance. “Undoubtedly, undoubtedly,” he declared, slapping his knee once more—

“The previous head was undoubtedly that of Yong Kai. I merely made that rash remark for your sake, to let you accomplish a great deed. Please do not take offense.”

With a laugh, he commended his efforts.

Gao Ding was soon appointed as governor of the three commanderies of Yizhou.

Southern Regions Tactical Map

1. With the pacification of Yizhou, the corrupt governors of various commanderies who had been disrupting the Shu-Man border were now completely eradicated.

Therefore, by the time Kongming arrived, the siege that had left Yongchang Commandery isolated among the rebels had lifted on its own, and Governor Wang Kang—

“It feels as though the harsh winter has departed, and I can finally bask in spring’s warmth after so long.” With tears streaming down his face, he opened the city gates and welcomed Kongming’s army. Upon entering the city, Kongming commended Wang Kang’s steadfast loyalty and asked, “It appears you have capable retainers. Tell me—who bore the greatest burden in defending this small fortress?” “That would be Lü Kai,” Wang Kang replied. “With Your Excellency’s permission, I shall summon him at once.”

“Summon him.”

Lü Kai, style name Jiping. Before long, he prostrated himself before Kongming. Kongming welcomed him as an eminent scholar and then solicited his opinion on the subjugation of the Nanman. Lü Kai unfolded a scroll of maps he had brought and spoke: “Rather than offering my humble opinion, if you would deign to keep this by your side, I believe it would surpass ten thousand words from this unworthy scholar.” “What land does this map depict?” “It is named the *Pingman Taozhi Tu* or the *Nanfang Zhizhang Tu*. The savages of the Southern Barbarian territories neither recognize imperial rule nor adapt to civilization. Moreover, they take fierce pride in their brute strength, wildness, and customs—subduing them will not be achieved in a single morning. Thus, over many years, this humble scholar secretly dispatched agents to the barbarian lands to investigate their customs, habits, weapons, and tactics, while also conducting detailed studies of the Nanman Kingdom’s geography—ultimately completing this single map. The detailed annotations within the map concern the circumstances of the barbarian territories I have just described—their climate, terrain, and such.”

Zhuge Liang was impressed. “The merits of those who have quietly and diligently prepared in peacetime must never be forgotten even in wartime.”

He sighed three times in admiration and appointed him anew to the crucial post of Expeditionary Campaign Instructor.

Thus, while remaining in Yongchang Castle, after making thorough logistical preparations and conducting detailed studies of the barbarian territories, Zhuge Liang finally advanced his grand army ever further southward.

Day after day, a hundred li, then several hundred li—the supply carts and laboring oxen of the marching army wound their way onward beneath the blazing sun. Zhuge Liang assigned military doctors to each unit and paid meticulous attention to all aspects concerning the entire army’s soldiers—from provisions and drinking water to matters such as pests during night encampments and endemic diseases. “An emissary from His Majesty the Emperor has arrived.” At the general’s words, Kongming, “What? An imperial envoy or something?”

He personally went out to greet them and ushered them into the central camp. When he looked, he saw that the envoy who had come was Ma Su. The moment Kongming saw his figure, he seemed to start. This was because Ma Su wore an undyed plain robe and white leather breastplate—in what could only be mourning attire. The clever Ma Su did not miss even that faint flicker of reaction on Kongming’s face. With that, he hastened his words, “I appear before your camp in mourning garb—forgive this impropriety. “In truth, before departing, my elder brother Ma Liang passed away—” he began by disclosing this personal matter out of turn, seeking first to put Kongming at ease.

“His Majesty the Emperor dispatched this humble servant to your camp not due to any disturbance in the capital, but because he was moved by the hardships endured by your officers and soldiers campaigning through the southern barbarians’ scorching lands. He has graciously bestowed upon the army a hundred loads of fine wine from Chengdu.” “The supply train should arrive shortly from the rear.” “That concludes all I was entrusted to convey.” Having stated the essence of his message.

That evening, the bestowed wine arrived. Kongming distributed this among all armies and—while sharing in the cool of barbarian lands beneath starlit encampments—poured Ma Su a cup as they faced one another. At their conversation’s end spanning myriad topics, he turned to Ma Su and ventured: “Now that we undertake Nanman’s subjugation—your esteemed counsel I would hear.” “Speak without restraint.”

Ma Su remained silent for a moment but then, “That is indeed a most difficult matter.” “Establishing merit may be easy, but achieving tangible results is the hardest of difficulties.” he said candidly, like the young man he was.

2 “Difficult—how so?” When Kongming echoed back with his question, Ma Su— “Since ancient times,” he declared, “there has never been a successful example of subjugating the Nanman.” “However, given that it is you, Prime Minister—now leading a great army against them—you will surely achieve great merit and accomplish their subjugation. Yet once you return to the capital, they will swiftly revert to their former state. The Nanman tribes will harbor thoughts of rebellion, seek out weaknesses, and never fully submit to imperial rule.”

he declared without reservation. Kongming nodded as he asked, “Moreover, how should we make such uncivilized tribes understand imperial virtue and submit wholeheartedly?” “The very reason it’s the hardest task lies there,” Ma Su replied. “The art of warfare teaches that conquering hearts surpasses brute force. I earnestly hope your army will subjugate them so thoroughly that gratitude and virtue take root—that even after Shu’s withdrawal, imperial rule endures eternally, leaving no room for rebellion.”

Kongming let out a long sigh and declared that Ma Su’s esteemed argument precisely aligned with his own thoughts; without reserve, he deeply admired his talent and resolve. And so, he dispatched an envoy to the imperial court while keeping Ma Su in the camp, stationing him constantly by his side as one of the generals on his staff. Though he had long recognized Ma Su’s talent, the fact that Prime Minister Kongming was consulting even such a youth as him on the strategic essentials of the southern campaign revealed just how earnestly he was striving in this Nanman expedition he now personally led.

The immense responsibility of commanding a great army of five hundred thousand men went without saying. Moreover, unlike previous battlefields, the climate and terrain were harsh, transportation was exceedingly difficult, and there were many perilous mountains, dense forests, and nearly untrodden lands. If they were to suffer even a single defeat, Wei and Wu would join forces and come pouring into Shu like a river bursting through its banks. The Emperor was still young and lacked the strength to protect the Shu capital. Though loyal ministers and virtuous officials inherited from the Late Emperor Xuande were not few, if it were heard that five hundred thousand had turned to corpses in a remote barbarian land and Kongming was no more, Chengdu’s peril would be like piled eggs. Rebellious ministers would arise within; the armies of Wei and Wu would press from without—how could they avoid destruction? The road ahead was fraught with peril; the rear was beset by turmoil. Even on the nights of the military campaign, Kongming’s dreams could not know a moment’s peace.

Moreover, if they did not absolutely accomplish the subjugation of the Nanman, the land of Shu would never be free from the threat at its rear, even when confronting Wei and Wu. There was no time but now to eradicate this national affliction. Kongming rode upon his signature four-wheeled chariot, white-feathered fan in hand, advancing day after day—a hundred *li* and again a hundred *li*—along unfamiliar paths of the Nanman lands. With five hundred thousand troops winding behind him, he marched endlessly onward. The fierce beasts of the dense forests and the birds of the steep valleys both fled south and ever southward. Thus, in the southern barbarians of the Nanman kingdom,

“Kongming has launched his attack.” This news spread from voice to voice like a celestial portent. Meng Huo, King of the Nanman, had already amassed a great army. “We’ll make those Chinese bastards blow bubbles!” Contrary to expectations, he sallied forth far from the Nanman capital. According to intelligence swiftly gathered by Shu’s scouts, the total strength of the Nanman army numbered approximately sixty thousand. They had divided their forces into three groups of twenty thousand each, positioning commanders known as the Three Cave Marshals—Jin Huanjie as the first, Dong Tu Nu as the second, and A Hui Nan as the third—to lie in wait.

In response to that, Kongming— “Wang Ping shall take the left army; Ma Zhong shall take the right army.” “I will lead Zhao Yun and Wei Yan and advance to the center.” he commanded. At this order, Zhao Yun and Wei Yan wore slightly dissatisfied expressions. The left and right armies were the vanguard; this was because they themselves had been placed in the rear. However, Kongming— “Wang Ping and Ma Zhong are more knowledgeable about the lay of the land than you.” “Moreover, being older, they are less prone to error even when traversing unconventional paths.” With these words, he restrained the two generals’ impetuousness, and after the flanking wings had advanced deep into enemy territory, the central force finally mobilized. And atop his four-wheeled chariot, surrounded by generals beneath the canopy, Kongming leisurely waved his feathered fan, gazing at the ecology of foreign birds and plants.

Three The Nanman army built fortifications atop Wuxi Peak, deployed the Three Cave troops along the mountain ridges, and secretly boasted: “Not even Shu’s weak soldiers could climb these sheer cliffs.” Taking advantage of the moonlight, Wang Ping and Ma Zhong’s vanguard—having advanced to the valley path below—used captured Nanman scouts as guides along hidden trails, scaled pathless routes, and launched a surprise midnight assault on the enemy’s encampment from east and west. Amidst the war cries, fire erupted from all directions like fireworks. Torch flames streaked like meteors. Within the Nanman ranks, complete disarray erupted as everything turned upside down.

The Nanman general Jin Huanjie charged out from the flames while barking orders at his subordinates. When they glimpsed his figure, a Shu general emerged from the ranks and—after a vicious struggle—severed his head, impaling it on his spear’s tip. “This is the fate of all who resist!”

He brandished it before the Nanman soldiers. Fleeing and fleeing, the horde of Nanman scattered like swirling dead leaves and hid in the camps of Dong Tu Nu and A Hui Nan. At that time, Shu’s central army—including Wei Yan and Zhao Yun—were fiercely attacking this area with battle cries. Seeing Shu forces both ahead and behind, the Nanman troops finally lost all composure: some leaped into ravines and shattered their skulls; others climbed trees only to burn to death; still others were cut down or surrendered—countless in number.

Dawn broke.

Over the jagged peaks and twisted mountains of the Nanman lands, the embers of battle still smoldered. Kongming ate his morning provisions with evident satisfaction, then inquired of his generals about their military achievements from the previous night. “The Three Cave barbarian soldiers have been routed, and not a single shadow of them can be seen this morning.” “Truly, this is due to your great valor—but have you managed to capture the enemy commander?” “The head I took is believed to be that of one of the enemy generals, Jin Huanjie.” “Please verify it, Your Excellency.”

“Ah, Zhao Yun. “As ever, your valor shines brightly.” “And what of the other enemy generals?” “Regrettably, it appears all have fled.”

“No—I have them captured alive here.” With that, he turned toward the tent behind him and ordered them brought forth. The onlookers doubted this claim, but moments later several warriors pushed through the tent flap, appearing with A Hui Nan and Dong Tu Nu bound by their ropes’ ends. “Savages! On your knees!” They forced the captives down. “What? How—?” “How could this be?”

No one was left unastonished, but through Kongming’s explanation, the details finally became clear. Zhuge Liang had long been conducting detailed research on the local terrain with Lü Kai, whom he had brought into his tent. In fact, three days before the central army’s flanks had begun advancing with conventional tactics, he had already entrusted Zhang Ni and Zhang Yi with covert detachments, ordering them to circle far behind the enemy fortifications and lie in ambush along the roads. “The subtlety of military strategy is said to be beyond even the comprehension of gods and demons—this must be what they mean,” they marveled. “Well, well—these ridiculous, ignorant Nanman generals. Having lined them up, shall we behead them straightaway?”

When the generals praised [the plan] and spoke, Kongming halted their verdict and instead ordered the captives’ ropes to be untied. “Give them wine,” he commanded, and they brought out food and drink to console them. Furthermore, “This is a battle robe of Shu brocade produced in our Chengdu.” “It will suit you well.” “Wear this garment of mercy and never forget the virtue of imperial benevolence.”

Having admonished them, when night fell he quietly sent them away via a narrow path. Dong Tu Nu and A Hui Nan,

“We will never forget your kindness,” they said through tears as they departed. After this, Kongming addressed everyone. “Behold! Tomorrow, King Meng Huo will surely come to attack here himself. Each of you—prepare yourselves and seize him alive!”

At that time, Kongming had thus devised his strategy. Where were they heading? Zhao Yun and Wei Yan each led five thousand cavalry, while Wang Ping, Guan Suo, and others commanded detachments of troops, departing swiftly from the main camp the following dawn.

Meng Huo

I

In the Nanman country, a “dong” refers to a fortress, and a “marshal of the dong” denotes its chieftain. Now, when King Meng Huo heard that all three marshals of the caves under his command had been captured alive by Kongming and that the greater part of their armies had been annihilated, his countenance changed abruptly.

“Good—I’ll have my revenge.” Meng Huo’s power and status appeared to be the most formidable among all nations of the southern barbarian realms. The direct troops he commanded—the so-called dark warriors of barbarian society—brandished bows, horses, swords, and spears; wore grotesque armor; waved crimson banners and red flags; and possessed equipment that was by no means inferior to that of the Central Plains’ armies. This was how they unexpectedly encountered Shu’s Wang Ping and his vanguard under the blazing sun. Wang Ping urged his horse forward,

“Is the barbarian king Meng Huo present?”

he shouted. Lion-like and ferocious, the one who came charging in response to the voice appeared to be none other than Meng Huo. The original work describes his attire at that time as follows. Meng Huo, beneath his banner, mounted a curly-maned Red Hare steed. Upon his head rested a plumed jeweled crown; his body was clad in a crimson brocade robe adorned with jeweled tassels, his waist girded with a jade-inlaid lion belt, and his feet shod in hawk-beak boots dyed emerald green. Proudly surveying his surroundings left and right, he grasped his Sōmon Kyōhō sword and declared: “The people of the Central Plains all quake at the name ‘Kongming, Kongming,’ but in this Meng Huo’s eyes, he doesn’t even measure up to a single elephant or a female leopard.” “Let alone those wild foxes and city rats beneath him! —Hey, Mang Ya Chang, crush that fool!”

He turned around and pointed with his chin at one of his subordinate generals. Mang Ya Chang let out a guttural roar and cracked the beast’s hindquarters with a leather whip. It was not a horse; it was a water buffalo charging forth with its large horns raised. Mang Ya Chang clashed with Wang Ping in five or six bouts, but ordinary sword skills were no match for his ferocity. Mang Ya Chang was suddenly driven off. When he saw his subordinate’s blood, Meng Huo revealed his innate barbaric nature and, roaring "You!", leaped at Wang Ping. Wang Ping feigned retreat and fled.

“Take a good look at your disgrace, you old shrine guardian (referring to the wooden statue of the martial deity)! Turn back!”

Mounted on his curly-maned red steed, kicking up a whirlwind in his wake, Meng Huo gave chase.

Guan Suo’s detachment, having judged *Now’s the moment—*, suddenly severed his rear and threatened his back—whereupon Zhang Yi closed in from the right and Zhang Ni from the left, enveloping the Nanman army.

The disparity between the ignorant army and the strategically adept army yielded an all-too-clear outcome. The fragmented Nanman army erupted into chaos like a stirred hornet’s nest, their fleeing ranks lacking even a semblance of unified direction. Meng Huo panicked as if he had thrust his hand into boiling water. He suddenly broke through one side of the encirclement and fled toward Jindai Mountain—but when he reached the valley there, drums and gongs resounded thunderously from within the gorge. When he changed course and attempted to climb the peak, Shu’s brave soldiers emerged fierce and bold from behind rocks and trees, attacking while beating war drums.

Among them stood Shu’s great general Zhao Yun. Meng Huo, his courage shattered, leaped across streams and charged through marshes, fleeing like a magnificent beast sensing its doom—yet the surrounding mountains had already transformed into an iron barrel of Shu troops, leaving him no escape. With bitter frustration etched across his face, he groaned alone as he abandoned his horse and drew near the stream’s edge. But when he bent to drink, war cries and the clamor of drums erupted once more from all directions.

...? His expression—desperation mingled with terror—was truly dreadful. He abandoned his horse there and began traversing the pathless terrain by clinging to tree roots and jagged rocks. When he finally emerged onto the ridge and paused to catch his breath, Zhao Yun captured him effortlessly. Ordinary ropes would have snapped under his thrashing and roaring—he proved nearly unmanageable. They bound him tightly with leather thongs instead, surrounding him with layers of burly warriors who escorted him to Kongming’s main camp. Even then, he thrashed so violently upon entering that three or four soldiers were kicked to death.

However, once they dragged him into the camp proper, the banners of the Imperial Forest stood in perfect array, halberds and spears—cold as ice and snow—gleamed imposingly in the bonfire light, and an aura of solemn dignity pervaded the grounds. Even the Barbarian King could not help but cower, his bloodshot eyes darting restlessly about.

II

At the rear of the camp, a large number of Nanman soldiers who had been taken prisoner earlier were clustered together in a dark mass. At that moment, Kongming went out there and was delivering an admonition. “Even you are not mere insects or beasts. You must have parents; you must have a wife and children. If they were to hear that you had been captured alive, they would weep tears of blood in sorrow. Why then do you come here to throw away your lives in such a futile struggle? Do not throw away your precious lives by aiding wickedness like Meng Huo again!”

Of course, Kongming intended to release all of them. Not only that, he gave them wine to drink and provisions, treated the wounded with medicine, and sent them away. Even though they were ignorant barbarians, they all felt gratitude for this kindness. No—more sincerely moved than even the Chinese soldiers had been, they departed, glancing back again and again.

When he returned to a chamber in the camp headquarters, warriors arrived escorting Meng Huo there. When Meng Huo saw Kongming’s figure, he bared his fangs and made as if to leap at him.

“What’s wrong? Meng Huo.” “Meng Huo.”

Kongming inquired gently yet with a touch of mockery. “Our Late Emperor of Shu often praised you as the King of Nanman and showed you no ordinary favor.” “Yet you forgot this kindness—colluded with Wei, and when Wei cowered, launched your own reckless rebellion! What madness is this?”

Meng Huo sneered. He chewed at nothingness, froth bubbling at his lips as he muttered to himself. Then like an ape scratching its belly, he suddenly arched his chest and glared at Kongming, “Enough nonsense!” “Stop spouting drivel!” “The lands of Liangchuan belonged to Old Shu—not your Shu!” “Same goes for Yizhou’s south.” “This is mine!” “It was never Xuande’s domain nor Liu Shan’s land.” “What I do there’s my own affair! Rant about border violations and rebellion all you want—your empty words mean nothing to this Meng Huo!” “Aha-hahaha!”

“It’s unfortunate, Meng Huo, but I’ve no mind to debate you in earnest.—Thus I instructed you through force. Grind your teeth all you like—you’re now Kongming’s captive. A prisoner holds no right to speak.” “Why were you taken alive by our army?” “The narrow paths of Jindai Mountain kept me from wielding my full strength!” “Ah—so you lacked terrain’s advantage?” “A mishap led to my capture! Bind this flesh if you must—you’ll never chain my heart!”

“You do have a way with words at times.” “If you do not submit from the heart, there is no helping it.” “I shall have your bonds untied and set you free.”

When these words were spoken, one might be moved by emotion, soften their expression, and suddenly cling to life—but in Meng Huo’s case, his reaction was entirely the opposite.

“Very well.” “If you untie my bonds and send me back，I will surely rebuild my forces and settle our contest once and for all!” “Fight me on equal footing，and know this—I，Meng Huo，am no man to fall before your kind!”

“Interesting.” “Come again and fight me by all means.” “Kongming too shall battle until you submit from the heart.”

He instructed the warriors to release Meng Huo. Upon learning this, the various generals within the camp were thrown into disarray. Some lamented, “After going through all the trouble to capture him—,” while others fretted, “Is this really acceptable?” Some were anxious—a myriad of emotions were reflected there—but Kongming showed not the slightest concern and called for wine,

“Drink before you leave,” he urged Meng Huo. At first, his face showed deep suspicion, but since Kongming also drank from the same wine flask without incident and spoke to him casually, Meng Huo ultimately gulped down the wine from a large cup. And as soon as he was sent out from behind the camp gate, he vanished somewhere without looking back, like a fierce tiger that had escaped a trap rushing to its den. While clenching their fists, the generals who were seeing him off spoke in unison, “We don’t understand. The Prime Minister’s intentions are utterly beyond our comprehension.”

They exchanged words, half in dissatisfaction and half in ridicule.

Kongming laughed. "What of it? Capturing a man like him alive is no different from taking an object out of a bag."

Blood Supply Route

1 “The Great King has returned!”

“The Great King lives!”

As soon as they spread the word, the defeated Nanman generals and soldiers who had been hiding in various places immediately swarmed around him. And in unison, “How did you manage to return safely from Shu’s camp?” they asked with puzzled looks.

“It was nothing.” Meng Huo laughed casually as he told his subordinates: “Unfortunately, I got stuck in a treacherous pass and was captured alive by the Shu army once. But when night fell, I broke out of the cage, killed over a dozen guards, and fled—only for another unit of cavalry to block my path. But those puny Chinese soldiers? I scattered them in all directions, seized a horse, and made my way back here.” “Hahaha! Thanks to that, I saw everything inside the Shu army’s camp—but it’s nothing special.”

Of course, his subordinate Nanman soldiers absolutely believed his words. However, A Hui Nan and Dong Tu Nu—who had earlier been released by Kongming and withdrawn into their caves—were the only ones who, when a summons came from Meng Huo, “It can’t be helped.” With expressions that seemed to say, “It can’t be helped,” they reluctantly arrived.

Meng Huo circulated a new summons to the various tribal chieftains and swiftly added over 100,000 fresh troops. The vastness of the Nanman realm and his immeasurable power within it were beyond measure. The assembled chieftains of the various caves—their customs, attire, weapons, and horse gear were all wildly diverse, reaching a peak of bizarre splendor. Meng Huo stood among them and outlined his strategy for future operations. “To fight Kongming, one must refrain from fighting Kongming. He’s a sorcerer. If we fight, we’ll surely fall for his tricks.” At that moment, I thought. Shu’s army, having crossed a thousand li, appeared thoroughly exhausted from the unfamiliar heat and the ruggedness of the land. “We will now move to the opposite shore of the Lushui River and build an immensely sturdy defensive stockade facing that great river. If we build along the sheer mountains and cliffs, construct a long wall, and link it with watchtower after watchtower—not even Kongming would be able to do anything about it. And once we see they’re utterly exhausted, slaughtering them all will be no trouble at all.”

In a single night, the Nanman army retreated somewhere like the wind.

The generals of the Shu army,

“Hmm?” they wondered aloud, or whispered speculations among themselves—perhaps the enemy had submitted to Kongming’s boundless benevolence and abandoned the battlefield to return to their caves—but Kongming declared, “Forward is our only path,” and that very day ordered the march to resume. The endless trek through Nanman territory once again wore down the men’s spirits. The supply train’s hardships defied all description.

By the end of May, the vanguard caught sight of the Lushui River ahead. The river stretched wide with a swift current; each torrential downpour sent white-capped waves surging toward the sky. In this region, torrential rains struck several times daily - downpours so heavy they seemed like overturned basins emptying their contents. While these rains brought brief respite from the fierce summer heat that left troops and horses gasping, they also soaked armor beneath layers of clothing, waterlogged provisions, and occasionally stranded entire units in swelling floodwaters when paths disappeared.

“Huh? …There are enemies on the opposite bank.” “What harshness… That serpentine defensive stockade—” The vanguard soldiers were daunted. It was the moment they beheld the precipitous terrain of the opposite bank and the barbarians’ distinctive defensive stockade—crafted to exploit the natural landscape. It differed greatly in style from the methodical structures of the Central Plains, but in terms of sturdiness, it appeared unnecessarily robust.

Naturally, the expeditionary force found their advance abruptly halted as they faced the Lushui River. The relentless downpours day after day, the sweltering heat that lasted from dawn till dusk, and come nightfall—tormented by pests, venomous snakes, and all manner of beasts—their encampment had now persisted for over half a month. Kongming issued an order.

“Retreat about a hundred li from the banks of the Lushui River.” “Each unit shall select locations on high ground or in wooded areas—places fit for rest and cool enough to dwell—and pitch camp there.” “Do not let impatience for battle consume you.” “Let both men and horses recuperate awhile, and apply yourselves wholly to preserving your health so illness may not take hold.”

Two At times like these, Lü Kai, the Military Advisor, proved extremely useful. Based on the "Southern Campaign Map" that had long been presented to Kongming, he assessed the geography and selected encampment sites for each unit. The generals constructed camp huts at their respective positions, thatching roofs with coconut palm leaves, spreading plantain leaves as bedding, and endured the scorching heat each day.

One day, Supervisor Jiang Wan said to Kongming: “This encampment—relying on mountains, following forests, winding over ten-odd *li*—closely resembles the formation from when the Late Emperor was defeated by Lu Xun of Wu.” “If the enemy crosses the Lushui River and launches a fire attack, it would be impossible to defend against.” “Indeed, indeed,” Kongming replied without denial, merely laughing—

“I don’t consider this Xiezhen formation’s layout good by any means—yet that doesn’t mean there’s no plan at all. Just watch how things unfold.”

At that moment, a large quantity of medicinal herbs and provisions for the sick and wounded soldiers were transported from the Shu capital. When he asked who had been assigned as the commander,

Upon hearing that “Ma Dai and his three thousand subordinates have arrived to take charge of the task,” Zhuge Liang immediately summoned him, consoled him for the hardship of the long journey, and said: “I wish to deploy the new troops you’ve brought to the front lines. Will you take command of them?”

“Not a single soldier here is my own. They are all troops of the imperial court. If it allows us to repay the Late Emperor’s grace, we would gladly march even into the jaws of death.”

“About one hundred fifty *li* from here along the banks of the Lushui River lies a place called Liushakou. Only at that crossing point is the current gentle enough to permit safe passage. Once across to the opposite bank, you’ll find a mountain path—the sole supply route through which the Nanman army transports its provisions. Sever this lifeline, and A Hui Nan and Dong Tu Nu’s faction will surely rise in rebellion. This is the mission I charge you with.” “I shall see it done without fail.”

Gladly, Ma Dai headed downstream.

When they arrived at Liushakou and surveyed the area, unexpectedly, the riverbed was shallow—so much so that boats or rafts were unnecessary—and they forded across. However, when they reached the midpoint of the river’s flow, both horses and men were suddenly swept away and drowned. Startled, Ma Dai quickly turned his troops back. When he inquired with the locals, they explained that this was called the Poison River—during the scorching heat of day, poison drifts on the water’s surface, so drinking it would surely result in death. However, they said that if one crossed during the cool hours of midnight, they would never be affected by the poison.

While waiting for midnight, they felled trees, wove bamboo, and constructed countless rafts. Over two thousand cavalry managed to cross without incident. The opposite bank was a mountainous area that grew increasingly precipitous the further they advanced. When they asked the locals, it was called “Sheep’s Intestine Between Clasped Mountains.”

Ma Dai’s army set up camp between the valleys of the great mountains and, that very day, captured over a hundred vehicles and four hundred water buffaloes from the Nanman transport units passing through. The next day brought further spoils. Immediately, this development began affecting the provisions of the over one hundred thousand Nanman troops amassed within the rugged terrain. One of the barbarian generals guarding the supply route went to Meng Huo’s main camp to report the emergency.

“General Who Pacifies the North Ma Dai has led fresh troops across Liushakou.” Meng Huo had been drinking wine. When he heard this, he laughed— “Half of them must’ve died mid-river. Fools.” “No—it appears they crossed during the night.” “Who told them that secret? If it was a local, cut them down!”

“It’s already too late,” “The enemy has stationed themselves in Jiashan Valley—they’re raiding our transport units and seizing every day’s provisions.” “What?! They’ve severed the supply route?!” “Why do you stand guard there at all?” “You wooden puppet!—Summon Mang Yachang! Fetch Mang Yachang!” This was a man of unmatched brute strength among the Nanman generals, wielding a bizarre spear. Upon being summoned, he gripped his long spear and—

“Your Majesty, what is your command?” he said, thrusting out his face like a mask. “Take about three thousand men and bring me the head of Ma Dai who is in Jiashan.” “I’m off.” Mang Yachang gallantly marched at the head of his army, but before long, only his subordinates fled back in disarray. And they cried out in unison: “Mang Yachang crossed blades with the enemy Ma Dai and was cut down with a single stroke.” “We can’t fathom how that captain was killed so effortlessly!”

Mental Bind

1. “—That can’t be…?”

Meng Huo doubted this, but when night fell, the locals retrieved Mang Yachang’s head and delivered it.

He hurled away the cup he had never parted with day or night.

“Hey! Someone go and avenge this grudge! Is there none among you who’ll bring me Ma Dai’s head in Mang Yachang’s stead?” “I will go—this one will.” “Dong Tu Nu, is it? Very well. Go wipe away your prior shame!”

He encouraged him and added two thousand elite troops, dispatching a force of five thousand to Jiashan.

Meanwhile, to A Hui Nan: "If Zhuge Liang’s main force crosses the river, it will spell disaster." "You guard the river’s entire stretch." Meng Huo assigned him a separate large army. Even Meng Huo—who had maintained a defensive stance until the Shu army exhausted itself—could no longer stay calm now that his supply route’s vital point had been breached. When Ma Dai at Jiashan heard Dong Tu Nu was leading fresh troops to retake the position, he personally advanced before the Nanman ranks: “Dong Tu Nu! Dong Tu Nu! You may be barbarians ignorant of imperial virtue, but surely you’re no mere beasts! If you have ears, hear this! Were you not captured by our Prime Minister and spared despite deserving death? If even your barbarous kind knows gratitude, how can their commander remain oblivious to mercy? Or if you still crave battle—step forward! I’ll return your head like Mang Yachang’s!”

he admonished in a loud voice. Ever since being released by Zhuge Liang, Dong Tu Nu had already lost his will to fight; upon hearing this, he was overcome with shame, furled his banners, and fled back.

“What happened?” Meng Huo glared at him and interrogated him. When Meng Huo heard Dong Tu Nu’s excuse—that Ma Dai was an even greater hero than they had heard, and that they stood no chance against him—his blue-faced, red-haired visage contorted as if blood might erupt from every hair root and pore. “You traitor! Since you’re indebted to Kongming’s mercy, don’t you dare harbor disloyalty!” “Fine.” “I’ll make an example of you!” He drew his Nanman blade and immediately attempted to behead him. The Nanman generals from the surrounding caves who were present all clamored in unison, restraining Meng Huo and earnestly pleading for mercy on Dong Tu Nu’s behalf. However,

“I despise you, but I’ll spare your life. Cave generals—the hundred-stroke punishment will not be pardoned!”

He ordered his soldiers to strip Dong Tu Nu naked before the crowd and administer a hundred-stroke beating with a club to his back. Having been covered in blood all over his body and having lost face, Dong Tu Nu returned to his camp, but he seemed unable to bear his resentment. Finally, he gathered his trusted subordinates and explained the details, “We were born in these barbarian lands, but never once has the Chinese army invaded us without cause. It is all because that Meng Huo fellow, with his half-baked wisdom, colluded with Wei, relied on his own strength to act tough, and deliberately stirred up trouble on Shu’s borders that we’ve ended up in this mess. —From what I’ve seen, Kongming is truly an admirable man. Moreover, he does not boast of his own wisdom or strength, but instead deeply respects Shu’s emperor and practices benevolent rule with sincerity—not merely paying lip service.”

Having revealed his innermost thoughts in this way, “Let’s kill Meng Huo outright, surrender to Kongming, and beg him to bring equal happiness to all people of the barbarian lands… What say you?” he pressed them for their true intentions.

Since the majority of his subordinates were men who had once had their lives spared by Kongming, “Chief.” “That’s exactly what we’ve been thinking ourselves.”

With one voice, they all agreed and immediately resolved to carry it out. Just then, Meng Huo was 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 away the pillow,

“Wake up.” No sooner had they spoken than they bound his arms behind his back. Even Meng Huo could only let out a stifled grunt 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 Nanman generals and native guards, caught off guard by the sudden turn of events, could only stand there in stunned silence.

“To the Lushui River.” “To the Lushui River.” Dong Tu Nu seized the opportunity and stood at the head of his over a hundred subordinates. Having Meng Huo carried off, he successfully fled from the Nanman army’s central camp. When they reached the banks of the Lushui River, they first hurled Meng Huo into the hollowed-out boats they had pre-positioned. Then all his subordinates leaped onto several vessels and fled across to the opposite shore. Shu sentinels immediately reported the disturbance to Kongming’s central camp. Kongming, as if he had been waiting,

"So they came," he said. He had his troops form ranks from the camp gate through the interior, then summoned Dong Tu Nu and his men into an area bristling with spears and banners. Kongming first obtained a detailed account from Dong Tu Nu, lavishly praised his merits, and ensured his subordinates received ample rewards. "Return to your cave for now," he ordered, then dismissed them.

Next,

“Bring Meng Huo here,” he ordered. When he saw the man being led in with his arms tightly bound behind his back, he gave a light laugh. “King of the Nanman,” he said. “You’ve come again?”

Kongming called out.

Meng Huo glared with bloodshot eyes, "Though I stand here, I wasn't captured by your hand!" "Don't put on such airs!" he roared with his entire being.

As if poised to counterattack, he roared with his entire being. Kongming offered no resistance,

“Ah, I see. I see.” “But regardless of whose hand captures you—once a commander-in-chief of an entire army is bound with ropes and sent into the enemy’s camp—your authority will crumble, and your commands will no longer be heeded.” “Would it not be better to surrender honorably at this very moment instead?” “Eat shit!” He spat and shook his head fiercely from side to side like a lion. “Today’s defeat was merely my own carelessness—bitten by a dog I fed! It’s neither my shame nor proof my tactics were flawed.” “Therefore, even if my men swear revenge, they will never abandon Meng Huo!”

“Indeed, you have excellent subordinates.” “But what if all the leaders of the various caves were to become like Dong Tu Nu and A Hui Nan one after another?” “I’ll fight even alone!” “Hah! What foolishness you speak, Meng Huo.” “Here you stand—already a captive, unable to twitch a finger before me—is this not so?” “…………” “Were I to utter but one word—‘Behead him’—your head would part from your body this instant. Yet our Shu army...they are forces of benevolent rule.” “Why would we slaughter those who submit sincerely?” “Moreover, you—as one styling himself king of the southern wilds—possess some knowledge of Central Plains ways, can read our script, and unlike other savages, understand military strategy. It would be wasteful to kill you.” Kongming’s voice softened. “From my very heart, I lament losing you.”

“Prime Minister, won’t you release me one more time?” “And if I release you—what then?” “I will return to my fortress, issue a proclamation, gather the fiercest warriors from every cave, devise proper tactics, and face the Shu army in battle once more.” “Hmm. And then—” “And then—” “I will win—without a doubt.” “But if by some mistake I am defeated by the Shu army again, I will lead all cave tribes and surrender honorably.” Kongming laughed. Then he ordered his soldiers to untie Meng Huo’s bonds,

“Next time, fight to your heart’s content,” he declared. “But take care not to let me see that wretched visage before me again!” He made Meng Huo drink wine, gave him a horse, and had him escorted to the banks of the Lushui River before releasing him. From the boat, Meng Huo glanced back twice—but the moment he reached the opposite shore, he bounded up to the mountain stronghold like a leopard.

Kongming: The Matter of Three Captures and Three Releases

1. When Meng Huo returned to his mountain stronghold, he summoned the chieftains of the various caves, “Today, I went to meet Kongming again. “Even bound before him, he couldn’t kill me. “Why? Because I’m invincible! “Snapping their blades with my teeth, kicking down their forts to return victorious—such feats are as simple as breaking my morning fast!”

As usual, he spewed his blustering flames of bravado and baffled the ignorant barbarian generals with his smokescreen,

“But if it weren’t for me, none of you would’ve made it back alive today.” “Those two bloated curs are Dong Tu Nu and A Hui Nan.” “Split up at once and bring me their heads!” he ordered.

The following night.

—The barbarian generals who left the stronghold gate split into several groups and lay in ambush. During the daytime, they used Zhuge Liang’s counterfeit envoy to send out summons to Dong Tu Nu and A Hui Nan.

The two, having fallen for the ruse, set out from their cave through the mountain pass toward the road along the Lushui River. In an instant, as soon as the signal horn blared, the tribal warriors hidden in all directions killed Dong Tu Nu, surrounded A Hui Nan, took their two heads, kicked the corpses into the valley below, and returned to their main camp with a raucous cry—like a pack of wolves.

“You really made me swallow boiling betrayal, didn’t you? Feast your dead eyes on this!”

Meng Huo cursed at the severed heads. Then he held a banquet through the night to vent his frustrations.

When he awoke from a nap, “My blood boils with battle-lust! “Now it begins!” “We’ll kick the Shu army to pieces! We must devour Kongming’s flesh and drink his blood!” “All who think themselves no less than this Meng Huo—follow me!” Then, suddenly shaking copper bells, having iron flutes blown, and beating war drums to announce their march, the barbarian generals throughout the stronghold all boiled with bloodlust, “Charge!”

Each leading a unit, they charged after Meng Huo.

Meng Huo headed toward Jiashan. He had come intending to first annihilate the enemy Ma Dai stationed there, but to his surprise, not a single Shu soldier remained in sight. “Where did they move to?” When he asked the locals, they replied that [the Shu army] had suddenly crossed the river and retreated to the northern bank two nights ago.

“Darn. We were a step too late.” Feeling deflated, Meng Huo withdrew 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 Silver Pit Mountain in the south with twenty thousand fresh troops to reinforce him during his absence. Even among barbarians, brotherly affection seemed to exist. No—compared to the Chinese, their bond was more overtly intimate. They embraced, rubbed cheeks, and exclaimed, “You came! You truly came!” They drank together until midnight, during which time they appeared to have devised a secret plan. The next day, Meng You had a hundred subordinates adorned with bird feathers and Nanman-dyed garments cross the Lushui River into enemy territory.

When they disembarked from the boat and one observed each soldier, their feet were all bare yet clad in animal bone anklets; their legs exposed coppery-red skin; their wrists bore bracelets of fish-eye beads and shells; and upon their red-haired, blue-eyed heads were decorations of white peacock and bird-of-paradise feathers—so eerily magnificent that it made one doubt one’s eyes. Moreover, these hundred-odd Nanman warriors, each laden with gold, silver, jewels, musk bolts of silk, and other treasures beyond what they could carry, advanced silently toward Kongming’s camp under Meng You’s command.

Before long, as the procession neared the camp gate, drums and horns immediately echoed sharply from the watchtower, and in response to the drums, a unit of cavalry surged forth to block their path. “Halt! Where do you think you’re going?” When they looked at the person on horseback, it was none other than Ma Dai of Shu—the very same Ma Dai whom Meng Huo had been unable to find yesterday and had stomped the ground in frustration over. Meng You prostrated himself on the ground and, feigning terror, said— “I have come on behalf of my brother to formally offer our surrender.” “I am Meng You, his younger brother.”

“Hold your position!” Ma Dai relayed the message through the camp gate. At that moment, Kongming had been conferring with his generals. Upon hearing this report, he turned to Ma Su beside him. “…Do you see?”

Kongming asked with a smile.

Two

Ma Su nodded and said, “Yes,” but then hesitated again, mindful of those around him. “I cannot speak of it aloud.” Taking up paper and brush, he wrote something and quietly showed it to Zhuge Liang. Zhuge Liang, upon reading it, grinned and struck his knee, “Indeed. “Your thoughts align perfectly with Kongming’s intentions. “The strategy to capture Meng Huo thrice—that is the one plan.” Then, summoning Zhao Yun close to his side, he bestowed a strategy upon him, and to each of Wei Yan, Wang Ping, Ma Zhong, and Guan Suo as well, he individually imparted their directives.

“Now, swiftly!” With that, he immediately dispatched them to their respective positions.

After doing so, he summoned Meng You and deliberately feigned suspicion, questioning why he had suddenly come to surrender.

Meng You prostrated himself on the ground, “My elder brother Meng Huo is said to be the most stubborn man in the southern lands. Though he was captured twice and spared his life by Your Excellency’s mercy, he still sought to rebel, urging us to rally troops. Yet our clan and the elders of every cave vehemently opposed him, admonishing his obstinacy and insisting we swear lasting allegiance to the Shu Emperor. At last, even he realized he could never withstand Your Excellency’s military prowess and benevolence. Feeling ashamed to come himself, he sent me in his stead to beg Your Excellency to accept our surrender.”

Meng You was a man of rare eloquence in the barbarian realm. He spoke, barely holding back tears, and had the hundred or so barbarian soldiers he had brought pile the tribute into a mountain before him.

Moreover, he added:

“My elder brother Meng Huo will also return once to the palace at Silver Pit Mountain, load many treasures onto oxen and horses to present them to the Son of Heaven, and after some days have passed, he plans to come here to surrender.” After hearing this full account, Kongming showed him friendliness for the first time. He wholeheartedly welcomed their submission and expressed every delight and satisfaction as he surveyed the gifts. Then he rearranged the seating to host a banquet, entertaining them with Chengdu’s fine wine, Sichuan’s delicacies, and even humble dishes.

The banquet had been ongoing since noon. When evening fell, musicians played melodies while Shu soldiers danced to enliven the festivities. Though the southern night finally deepened, a warm breeze lingered and stars hung large in the sky, making those present forget all thought of the revelry's inevitable end.

That night.

But by that time already—having crossed the upper reaches of the Lushui River, threaded through mountain valleys and forests, and using the lights of the Shu camp as their guide—the shadows of over ten thousand fierce barbarian soldiers, like cunning beasts rustling softly, were stealthily approaching the rear of the Shu camp.

They each carried in their hands only dangerous items—sulfur, saltpeter, animal oil, dried brushwood, and the like. Deeming the moment ripe, Meng Huo leapt up, “That is Kongming’s central camp. “Tonight, do not let him escape!”

He waved his hand as a signal. The shadows of the beast army charged forward. Meng Huo also plunged in. But lo! Though the lamplight blazed as bright as daylight there, every soul lay slumped in drunken stupor—not one stirred to turn their head.

Moreover，all those who had collapsed were Meng You’s subordinates．But Meng You himself had collapsed in the center of the gathering，writhing in agony as he looked at his fellow barbarian soldiers and pointed to his own mouth． “Little brother！What’s wrong？”

Meng Huo tried to lift him up, but Meng You was unable to respond. They had sought to scheme but had been outschemed. Needless to say, every last one of them had been affected by the poisoned wine. “—Damn it—” Unaware of this, their own barbarian allies were desperately hurling saltpeter and oil jars from all directions, intent on setting this place ablaze with fire. Meng Huo, cradling his brother Meng You’s body, rushed out.

“Wait, wait! If you set fire from outside, our allies inside will burn to death! I am Meng Huo! Let me through!” Then from beneath the flames emerged Shu’s general Wei Yan, who retorted, “If you can pass, then pass!” as drums sounded and a phalanx of spears turned toward him. Panicking, Meng Huo fled in the opposite direction—only to find Zhao Yun’s army lying in wait.

“Meng Huo! Your heavenly mandate has expired!” “Your heavenly mandate has expired!”

and they gave chase.

Abandoning his brother’s body at some point, Meng Huo fled desperately upstream along the Lushui River, utterly alone.

Three

A single barbarian boat could be seen on the shore. Twenty to thirty barbarian soldiers were also aboard. Meng Huo, who had fled breathlessly, “Hey! Take me aboard and cross the river immediately!” No sooner had he given the command than he leapt aboard with the momentum of his flight through the air. At the same time, all the people in the boat rose up, With a collective shout of “Now’s our chance!”, they split to the stern and bow, then piled onto Meng Huo from both ends with a great “Wah!”

“Ah! Don't panic—it’s me! It’s Meng Huo!”

As he struggled and screamed, they bound him tightly without hesitation. “You shortsighted fool! We are a detachment of Ma Dai’s army. Now come along to the Prime Minister’s camp!”

and hauled him up onto land.

Kongming’s main camp was filled with prisoners that night as well. He executed ten of the most vicious captives, made the rest drink wine, spanked some on their buttocks as punishment, bestowed others with goods, then drove them all away. “What shall we do with Meng Huo?” The staff officers asked one final time. Kongming deliberately took a folding stool and placed it before him,

“You’ve come again, Meng Huo,” he jeered.

Through two experiences, Meng Huo seemed to have learned some tricks. He answered indignantly, “Tonight’s defeat came because that fool of a brother gorged himself on food and drink, ruining my strategy from within our own ranks. That’s why I don’t count this as a true defeat in battle,” he declared boastfully. “But Meng Huo. You may not have fallen to the sword, but you were outwitted by strategy. What of your sorry state in that boat?” “That…was a blunder,” Meng Huo admitted honestly, then added with lingering defiance, “—but even a man may stumble over stones in the dark.”

Kongming displayed a hint of severity,

“I have now captured you alive three times,” Kongming declared. “Having broken our agreement, I shall sever your head and be rid of you. Meng Huo—have you any final words?” “Wait! Wait!” he cried, his bearing transformed utterly from their previous encounters as he clung to life in frantic desperation. “Release me once more!” “A Buddha’s countenance withstands but three offenses,” Kongming countered. “My mercy too has its bounds.” “Just one more chance!” “What would you do with this final opportunity?” “I would face you in honorable combat!” “And if captured alive yet again—”

“This time, even if I’m beheaded, I won’t regret it.”

“Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”

Kongming burst into laughter. The moment he did so, he drew his own sword and cut his bonds loose. “Meng Huo, next time, thoroughly study military manuals and reorganize your formations properly so you won’t leave room for regret again. —By the way, what became of your brother?” “Huh? My brother?” “To forget your own flesh and blood—what manner of conduct is this? Do you truly believe you can continue ruling over your subjects as king of these barbarian lands?” “I rescued him from the flames, but we parted ways midway—I don’t know whether he’s alive or dead.”

“Someone! Bring Meng You here!” When he gave this order to those around him, the staff officers entered the tent, noisily surrounded a barbarian general, and brought him forward. “Y-you idiot! No matter how much of a drunkard you are, what fool would drink the enemy’s poisoned wine?!”

Kongming laughed and drove a wedge between the two. “Despite being chastened by your allies’ defeat,” he said, “to immediately start squabbling like children here already violates military doctrine.” “Now return amicably.” “Then come attack us united as brothers!”

The two bowed in gratitude and left. Requesting a boat, they crossed the Lushui River and began ascending toward their mountain stronghold when from atop the mountain fortress, Shu general Ma Dai, bearing a banner and using his sword as a staff, “Meng Huo! Meng You! What do you desire? Arrows? Spears? Swords? Or stone cannons?” he bellowed angrily. Startled, they fled to one peak, but there too Shu banners stood in dense formation, and with fluttering banners billowing like waves behind him, Shu’s Zhao Yun appeared and said— “You all! Do not forget the Prime Minister’s great mercy.”

They fled again. However, in every valley they entered and every mountain they climbed, Shu banners were nowhere to be found, so at last they fled far south into the barbarian territories. With regal bearing and a feather fan,

1 The barbarian territories spanned thousands of li, their vastness beyond knowing. Kongming’s grand army, having left the Lushui River behind, continued to advance further, but for dozens of days they encountered no trace of the enemy.

Meng Huo seemed to have been deeply chastened. He withdrew deep into the heart of the barbarian kingdom and was meticulously planning his resurgence.

To the chieftains of the eight regions and ninety-three communes across the barbarian territories, he issued rallying proclamations, dispatched envoys, bestowed gold, silver, and honors, and spread this message far and wide. "Kongming’s grand army has attacked. They have come to conquer the entire southern realm, establish a Shu capital in this land, and proclaim to exterminate us native people. They are rich in cunning tactics and possess the weapons of civilization—formidable foes indeed—but having marched thousands of *li* and being unaccustomed to the climate and terrain, the majority are utterly exhausted. They are not to be feared. If the armies of the various caves join forces and crush them, even the Shu Emperor will be thoroughly chastened and never again point a finger at our land."

This rallying call succeeded. Among the barbarian kings of the various caves were those who had grown weary of mellow wines, tired of ripened fruits and wild game—men whose bodies grew restless from lives too devoid of conflict. These men, invigorated by the beacon fires raised by the barbarian king Meng Huo—a great stimulus after long idleness—gathered forces from their respective domains, answered the call to assemble one after another, and swiftly formed a vast host as numerous as clouds. “Alright—with this many gathered—” And so, Meng Huo was utterly overjoyed,

He then ordered a reconnaissance to ascertain where Kongming was currently encamped.

“They erected bamboo pontoon bridges on the Xi’er River and deployed forces on both the southern and northern banks. On the northern bank, they even constructed fortress walls using the river as a moat...” reported his subordinate.

“Hah! They dare to copy the very formation I deployed at the Lushui River!”

The wild heart grows arrogant quickly. They had already forgotten their previous defeats. Moreover, having newly gained reinforcements from ninety-three communes of their federation, they brimmed with fighting spirit. “Well,” “Let me give them a proper scare!” Meng Huo advanced his army to survey the southern banks of Xi’er River where Kongming had established his defenses. Astride a red-haired southern barbarian ox draped in Burmese brocade with a rosewood saddle, Meng Huo wore armor of rhinoceros hide, shield in left hand and longsword in right. He cut a truly majestic and imposing figure.

Coincidentally, Kongming, who had been conducting an inspection tour of the various Shu troops stationed on the southern bank from his four-wheeled chariot,

“Meng Huo is leading a large army and approaching.” When he heard this from his subordinate, “A storm approaches! Escape swiftly before the deluge!”

With that, he abruptly changed course and hurried back to headquarters.

Having caught wind of this, Meng Huo, “Got them! We can catch up,” he said, taking a shortcut and suddenly closing in to launch a pursuit.

However, by a narrow margin, Kongming’s army rushed inside the camp gates, then shut them tightly and refused to engage in battle. “The enemy is weak!” The barbarian army arrived underestimating them. All the more so because they had long been informed that the majority of the Shu army was already exhausted. As days passed, they stripped naked, gathered near the camp gates, shook their buttocks in dances, and pulled down their eyelids to make grotesque faces—all to provoke the Shu soldiers into fury.

Shu’s generals gnashed their teeth and pressed upon Kongming, “Those monkeys belittling us—it’s beyond all measure!” “Could we not once open the camp gates and sally forth to scatter them?”

they pleaded, but Kongming, “Once they submit to royal governance, that dance of theirs may yet become something to cherish.” “For now, keep your tempers in check a while longer.” Still he refused permission. The monkeys’ arrogance only grew more rampant—a band utterly lacking military discipline from the start, their outlandish antics bordering on madness. Kongming spent an entire day observing from a high vantage point,

“That will suffice,” he said to those in the command tent. He had finalized his secret stratagem. He whispered instructions to Zhao Yun, Wei Yan, Wang Ping, Ma Zhong, and others, entrusting them with confidential orders, then summoned Ma Dai and Zhang Yi before him. “Let there be no slackness,” he commanded his generals. With these words, he departed. Thereupon, he mounted his four-wheeled chariot and—accompanied by Guan Suo—abruptly crossed the bamboo pontoon bridge to relocate north of the Xi’er River.

2

Blowing horns, sounding great gongs, and at times beating barbarian drums, the Nanman forces thereafter began advancing right up to the camp gates nearly every day. Yet within Shu's ranks reigned utter silence. Only their banners fluttered in the wind; no warrior's cry pierced the air, nor did a single arrow fly. Meng Huo warned his men to stay vigilant.

“Kongming’s a schemer full of tricks! Don’t lower your guard and fall into his trap!” Yet with no changes in activity—not even cooking smoke at dawn or dusk—they finally resolved one morning to breach the gates and charge inside in force. What they found were hundreds of carts abandoned with provisions still loaded, weapons and horse gear scattered about, traces of sleep and meals left in disarray—across the entire camp grounds, not a single horse or person could be seen.

“Huh? They’ve withdrawn—when did they retreat?”

When Meng You voiced his suspicion with a puzzled tone, Meng Huo sneered, “Given this state of things, it seems they fled in a great panic. To abandon such a sturdy camp and retreat overnight—given that even Kongming has done so—this must mean some emergency has arisen in their homeland. I surmise that either Wu has invaded Shu’s homeland or Wei has launched an attack—it must be one of these two. That’s right! Chase them down and cut every last one of them to pieces!”

From atop his water buffalo, he issued commands to his forces and abruptly ordered the entire army to pursue them to the southern bank of the Xi’er River. Yet when they arrived and looked across to the northern bank, there now stood a fortress wall resembling the Great Wall itself. Dozens of watchtowers lined the shore, each bristling with fluttering banners and glinting spears—so formidable that none dared approach. “No need for alarm,” Meng Huo scoffed. “This too is Kongming’s ruse.” “By maintaining this facade, their strategy must be to retreat ever northward.” “Mark my words, brother—in two or three days, they’ll abandon even those banners. Not a single Shu dog will remain.”

Meng Huo spoke those words to Meng You and ordered his forces to cut bamboo and prepare rafts. Thousands of Nanman soldiers cut down large bamboo and assembled rafts. During that time, 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 did I tell you? My keen eye never fails!” He boasted even to the tribal generals on his left and right and attempted to cross the river, but that day, a fierce wind raged, scattering stones, so he decided to wait out the weather and withdrew his men and horses from the bank.

“The wind won’t let up, and with those towering waves, there’s nothing we can do.” “Wouldn’t it be wiser for us to enter that empty camp the Shu army abandoned earlier and wait for dawn there?”

“Let’s do that.” “Brother, issue the order for the entire army to retreat!” Having left those words, Meng Huo took the lead in beginning the retreat and entered the aforementioned camp to rest. As night fell, the fierce gale intensified, sending sand whirling through the dark sky. Horses and soldiers alike covered their eyes as they streamed through all four camp gates until even its vast interior was packed to capacity. Soon came the hour when they would attempt sleep. The clangor of metal drums and gongs—not wind’s howl—resounded from every direction. Just as men and beasts within began stirring in alarm, flames engulfed all sides—walls of fire below, a blazing roof above.

Trampled to death, burned alive—hellish screams erupted.

“Damn it!” Surrounded by a handful of his clansmen, Meng Huo barely escaped the raging flames through one exit. Yet no sooner had they emerged outside than— “Shu’s great general Zhao Yun!” came shouts from pursuers hot on their heels. When they tried to flee toward their allied forces left at Xi’er River, those very allies had already been scattered, replaced by Shu’s Ma Dai and his troops. With their courage shattered, they attempted to turn back—only to find their retreat route already swarming with Shu soldiers.

They fled into the mountains, hid in valleys, and ran all night in desperation. Moreover, wherever there was a path, the Shu army's drums and gongs resounded, and spears and halberds burst forth.

With only a dozen or so subordinates, Meng Huo descended utterly exhausted to the western mountainside. Dawn had broken. When they looked about them, there stood a grove of coconut trees in the distance. A troop of soldiers bearing several banners came pushing forth a single four-wheeled chariot. Meng Huo cried out as though startled from a nightmare and wheeled about to retreat.

III Kongming, seated atop the four-wheeled chariot, wore his customary silk headdress and crane-feather cloak, his attire unchanged from usual as he waved a white-feathered fan in hand—but when Meng Huo, startled, made to flee, he laughed heartily and...

“Why do you flee, Meng Huo? Do you not always declare whenever captured: ‘If truly valiant, I would never be defeated’? By showing your back now, it seems you lack confidence to defeat even this Kongming in fair combat!” He raised his feather fan and called out. —Meng Huo spun around furiously on his heel,

“Shut up!” “When have I ever shown my back?!” he roared at Zhuge Liang before turning to his men. “Hey! Men of the caves! That’s Kongming over there! Three times now I’ve been humiliated by this schemer’s tricks!” “Meeting that bastard here is our chance! Fight with me—grind both him and his damned chariot into dust!” “Take his head and we’ll feast across every corner of the Nanman kingdom!”

"If we take that bastard’s head..." he roared fiercely like a beast king. The dozen or so subordinates were all top fighters from the various caves—his younger brother Meng You burned with accumulated resentment—and with shouts of "Uragh!" and "Charge!", they surged toward the four-wheeled chariot.

The Shu soldiers immediately pushed the four-wheeled chariot and fled. Chasing was swift, fleeing was swift—but just as the distance between them began to close, Meng Huo, Meng You, and their band plummeted all at once into a pitfall, accompanied by a heaven-rending cloud of dust. Then, as if signaled by that sound, several hundred of Wei Yan’s cavalrymen emerged from between the trees, pulled them out one by one from the pit, and efficiently strung them together like prayer beads. The four-wheeled chariot was already heading calmly toward Shu’s main camp. Zhuge Liang, upon returning, immediately seized Meng You.

“What in the world ails your brother?” “Today marks the fourth time he’s been captured alive and dragged here.” “Even in an uncivilized barbarian land, humans ought to know shame.” “You would do well to speak plainly.” With these measured words, he first made them drink wine, then untied their bonds and released them alongside their men. Next, he had Meng Huo hauled before him and roared with unprecedented fury: “You witless fool! By what face do you shamelessly appear before Kongming bound in ropes yet again?!”

scolded him harshly and continued, "In China, those who know no gratitude are called inhuman beings, and those without shame are deemed shameless or likened to dogs and beasts—all scorned even more than birds and animals. Yet you are lower than those very beasts." "And you call yourself King of Nanman?" "What a rare beast," he savagely berated. Even Meng Huo, on this day alone, did not roar or rage at all. Perhaps finally feeling shame, he kept his eyes tightly closed, merely baring his white fangs and biting his lip. "I will no longer spare you. "I will execute you today!"

Even though Kongming said this, Meng Huo’s eyes remained shut. Kongming abruptly raised his feather fan and commanded the warriors. “Drag him to the rear of the camp and strike off this Beast King’s head!” A large group of warriors took hold of Meng Huo’s bound ropes and urged him to stand, but Meng Huo stood rigidly without a word. When he began to walk forward, he finally opened his blazing eyes and glared at Kongming’s face. He then sat down on the execution mat with remarkable composure, but upon turning to the warriors and demanding they summon Kongming again—and seeing no indication they would comply—he suddenly let out a thunderous roar.

“Kongming! Kongming!” Meng Huo roared. “Untie me once more, and I’ll wipe away four humiliations with this fifth battle! I’ll accept death—but not the shame of being called a coward! Hey! You hear me, Kongming? Fight me properly again!” Zhuge Liang stood from his seat. “If you fear death, why refuse surrender?” Meng Huo jerked his head violently, tears pooling in his eyes even as he spat venom. “Surrender? Never! Death before dishonor! You won with tricks—cheap deceptions! Fight me fair this time, you scheming fox!”

“Very well. If you insist to this extent—Warriors, untie his bonds and release him.” Kongming chuckled twice and concealed himself within the room.

Poison Spring

1

Meng Huo returned to his camp. But for several days, he did nothing but sit in a daze, lost in thought. Meng You, his younger brother, “Brother, since we can’t possibly match Kongming, why not just surrender?”

When this opinion was voiced, he suddenly widened his eyes as if his soul had been ignited.

“Don’t spout nonsense!” “Even you would say such a thing?” “If you dare utter that nonsense again, I won’t let it slide!”

“But Brother, you’ve been brooding gloomily these days.” “The reason I’ve been captured alive four times is that I lost to their stratagems.” “That’s why this time, I’m straining my wisdom to devise a stratagem to ensnare Kongming myself.” “If we’re talking about wise men in Nanman, there’s that Duosi King.” “That’s it.

“Why didn’t I think of Duosi King?” “Brother, go as an envoy to Duosi King.” He suddenly entrusted Meng You with the details and dispatched him to Duosi King of Tulong Cave.

Upon hearing Meng Huo’s request, Duosi King did not deliberate even once; he assembled his cave soldiers and welcomed the Nanman King Meng Huo into his domain. And when Duosi King heard from Meng Huo about the repeated defeats and Zhuge Liang’s mastery of stratagems, he burst into laughter and— “No need to worry, no need to worry. King Meng, may you set your heart at ease. My cave realm is an impregnable stronghold. If you gather your troops here, even Kongming—and all the Shu army’s officers and soldiers—would not return alive.”

said Duosi King. As he explained: “The path Your Majesty took to come here is ordinarily left open, but when crisis strikes, we can block that narrow pass—where sheer cliffs lean against each other—with massive logs and boulders, instantly sealing off the entrance to our cave realm.” “Moreover, the northwestern route has jagged rock faces and dense forests teeming with venomous snakes and vicious scorpions—so treacherous that not even birds dare fly through—and passage is possible only during the Wei, Shen, and You hours of the day.”

Such was the explanation.

“How so?” When Meng Huo asked this, Duosi King elaborated in even greater detail: “For reasons even we do not understand, outside of the Wei, Shen, and You hours, dense miasmic smoke rises, the ground rumbles, and sulfur boils up from between the rocks and erupts—so men and horses fear to approach.” “Because of this, all vegetation there has withered, leaving the area a desolate, scorched hell as far as the eye can see. But if one crosses a mountain and enters the valley within the dense forest, there are four poisonous springs. One is called the Dumb Spring—drink from it, and within a single night your mouth will rot and your bowels will be torn apart, ensuring death within five days.”

“Hmm.” “What about the other springs?”

“The second spring is called Mie Spring. Its color is a deep blue, and its flow runs warm like boiling water. Should anyone bathe in it, their flesh would rot away instantly—leaving only white bones at the bottom when you peer in.” “The third...” “The third is Black Spring. Though its waters appear clear and beautiful, dipping one’s hands or feet turns them black with unrelenting agony.” “The fourth...” “The fourth—Rou Spring—is cold as ice. Travelers scorched by summer heat flock to drink it, yet none who taste its waters have survived since ancient times.”

“Then it can’t be crossed. No matter how great Kongming is, even he couldn’t cross that place.” “However, in the Later Han era, it is said that only a man called General Fubo Ma Yuan came here. Since then, no army led by any hero has ever fully traversed this cave realm.” “No—I’m grateful. If we position ourselves in this cave realm, the Shu army will have no choice but to be stranded.”

Meng Huo slapped his forehead in boundless joy,

“Come then, Kongming! If you dare make it here, come!” He cursed toward the northern skies.

By that time, Zhuge Liang had already completed pacifying the Xi’er River region and continued marching ever southward into the scorching southern lands. “For hundreds of miles ahead, there are no Nanman troops to be found—not a single soldier’s banner remains visible.” “When we captured and questioned the natives, it appears Meng Huo and Meng You have gathered all their forces in a mountainous area further inland called Tulong Cave.”

In response to the scouting party’s report, Zhuge Liang took out a map to examine it, but no such cave realm was marked on the Zhi Zhang Tu.

II

“Lü Kai,” Zhuge Liang said, showing the map to Lü Kai at his side. “A place called Tulong Cave isn’t marked here either. Does your knowledge yield nothing about it?” “If it’s absent even from the Zhi Zhang Tu,” Lü Kai replied, “it must lie in an exceedingly remote barbarian region. This humble scholar knows nothing of it.” Then Jiang Wan, the staff officer who had been studying the map from behind, sighed and offered counsel. “Your Excellency has amply demonstrated Shu’s martial prowess and pacified the natives while spreading our sovereign’s influence far and wide. Would it not be wise to turn back now? Should we press deeper into these wilds, our entire army might perish as specters in this barbarian wasteland.”

Zhuge Liang lightly tilted his face upward and said, "That's precisely what Meng Huo desperately hopes for."

Jiang Wan blushed and fell silent. Zhuge Liang first ordered Wang Ping’s unit to advance into the northwestern mountains, but when several days passed without their return, he gave Guan Suo one thousand cavalry and had him establish contact. Guan Suo soon returned and reported the dire situation ahead. Almost ninety percent of Wang Ping’s soldiers had fallen ill or died from the poisonous waters of the four springs. Already, his own unit’s men and horses, parched by the scorching heat of the march and with no time to heed warnings, had approached the spring, and in an instant, dozens had become casualties—their agonized struggles and manner of death so gruesome that it was unbearable to witness—he reported.

Zhuge Liang was shocked. Even with his vast knowledge, he could find no solution. Having finally resolved himself, he issued marching orders to the three armies. His body was borne along in the Four-wheeled Chariot as soldiers and horses supported one another, their labored panting echoing fearsomely while they pressed forward into terrain more treacherous than any ever braved. They crossed scorched mountains and riverbeds stripped bare of every tree and blade of grass. After winding through peak after peak, they entered dense woodland where Wang Ping came to meet them and promptly guided Zhuge Liang's chariot to the banks of the Four Springs.

The spring glistened with moisture, its allure so potent that even he felt an urge to leap forth and kiss its waters. Looking up, the four mountains stood like a folding screen; not a single bird sang, nor a beast ran—truly, there was a sinister aura that pricked the skin.

“Hmm… What could that single temple visible on that rocky peak be?” He suddenly spotted a man-made structure with an artificial hue halfway up a mountain peak, so he climbed the sheer cliff face on foot, clinging to ivy and vines as he ascended.

There was a cave carved into the bedrock. It had been converted into a temple where a stone statue of a general was enshrined. Upon reading the stele inscription erected beside it, they found that this was a stone statue of General Fubo of Han—who had subjugated the Nanman in ancient times and reached this land—and that the natives, admiring his virtue, had enshrined him here. Kongming prostrated himself before the stone statue, prayed at length, and fervently appealed as though addressing a living person. "This unworthy one, having received the Late Emperor’s posthumous command to entrust me with this solitary task and having obeyed the Later Sovereign’s edict to come here now, has unwittingly trodden upon the footsteps of ancestral enterprise and encountered your great spirit, General. I believe this to be the workings of Heaven’s divine arrangement. If your spirit exists, O General, support this unworthy Kongming and grant protective strength to my three armies—the last remnants of the Han dynasty now in dire straits."

Then, a mysterious old man leaned on his staff and sat upon a distant rock, calling out, “Come here, Prime Minister!” “Who are you?” When Kongming asked, the old man— “I am a local,” he answered simply— “If you proceed twenty to thirty *li* deeper into the valley ahead, you will find a somewhat broad valley called Wan’anxi nestled within the Five Peaks. There resides a hermit whom people call the Wan’an Hermit. This person has not left the valley for decades. In his hermitage, he possesses a spring called Anyang Spring, and to this day, he has saved thousands—travelers and locals alike—afflicted by the four poisons. Prime Minister, your army must be in dire straits by now. By your virtue, Prime Minister, we have come to somewhat understand what royal influence truly is, and we feel that our lives today have gained worth. Well, in any case, you should go and see Wan’anxi.”

No sooner had he spoken than he drifted away like a wisp of wind, leaving without even giving his name. “This must be the divine temple’s oracle.”

Zhuge Liang believed. The next day, he ventured into the remote valley of the Five Peaks that had been indicated, along with his retinue.

Nanmaiden Dance

One As they pressed on through a bluish darkness like that of traversing the sea and endless deep forests and swampy paths, suddenly, sunlight akin to a rainbow streamed down from the heavens. It was a spacious valley nestled within the mountain’s embrace. “Ah, Wan’anxi must be here,” Zhuge Liang thought as he dismounted and ordered his men to search for the hermit’s dwelling.

“There it is.” “That must be the mountain villa.” Guided there, they arrived to find towering pines and great cypresses densely covering the house, while southern bamboos in full growth, coconut trees, and crimson-purple exotic flowers formed a hedge-like enclosure, their strange fragrance swirling in the wind—they stood transfixed, gazing in rapture.

A dog barked fiercely. The dog barked fiercely at Kongming’s group’s unfamiliar attire. Just then, from within the mountain villa, a naked child who resembled a jet-black statue of the newborn Buddha came dashing out. While chasing and scolding the dog, “You’re the Prime Minister of Shu, aren’t you? “Please come inside.”

he led the way and said. “Child, how did you know I am the Prime Minister of Han?” As he was led along and asked this, the child laughed, revealing white teeth. “With such a massive force attacking Nanman, it’s impossible for the Nanman people not to know!”

Then, a blue-eyed and yellow-haired old man appeared, opening the bamboo door of the hall from within. “Now, now, what are you doing jesting with our guest?” He scolded the child, then politely ushered [Zhuge Liang] into the hall and exchanged formal greetings. The old man was clad in crimson silk robes, wore a bamboo crown, had his plump ears adorned with golden rings, and bore a visage altogether resembling that of Zen Master Bodhidharma. Once the formal greetings had concluded and they had taken their seats, when the hermit heard Zhuge Liang’s purpose for coming, he burst into hearty laughter. “This old man is but a recluse of the mountains and fields who had resigned himself to being of no use to the world. That Your Excellency the Prime Minister would deign to visit me is an unexpected joy—nay, an overwhelming honor.” “Please immediately bring here all the sick and wounded soldiers who have succumbed to the poison of the Four Springs.” “It is a simple matter.” “Though this old hermit lacks the power to save them myself, there lies a natural medicinal spring nearby.”

Zhuge Liang greatly rejoiced and immediately ordered his attendants to have Wang Ping and Guan Suo transport all the sick and injured here one after another. The child, together with the hermit, joined forces and guided the people to a certain spring in Wan’anxi. By bathing in this medicinal spring, chewing garlic chive leaves, sipping rue roots, or consuming cypress seed tea and pine flower greens, even the severely afflicted regained healthy complexions while those with milder cases became instantly refreshed—joyful voices filled the valley.

The hermit also cautioned Zhuge Liang. “In this Dongjie region, there are many poisonous snakes and venomous scorpions, so you must take great care.” “Above all else, what troubles a marching army is water—for any stream where peach leaves have fallen and rotted over time will surely contain a virulent poison, so do not even let your horses drink from it.” “Wherever you go, even if it is troublesome, if you simply dig into the ground and drink only groundwater, you should be safe.” Zhuge Liang bowed in gratitude, and then, when he inquired about the hermit’s name, the hermit grinned and—

“Prime Minister, you must not be alarmed,” he cautioned, and then— “What is there for me to hide? I am the elder brother of Nanman King Meng Huo,” he said. “Huh? Meng Huo’s…” “That is correct. In truth, our parents had three children. I am the eldest, followed by Meng Huo, and then Meng You. Our parents passed away early, and my two younger brothers—consumed by insatiable greed—craved power and glory, reveled in violence and wickedness, dared to defy imperial authority, and persisted in such lawless ways that they became nearly impossible to control. No matter how much I admonished them, there was no sign of them mending their ways. So I parted from my two younger brothers, abandoned the royal city, hid in this valley over twenty years ago, and have not shown my face to the world since. I am such a disgraceful man.”

“Ah, so that’s how it was.” Zhuge Liang marveled, “In ancient times, there were brothers like Liuxia Hui and Dao Zhi, but even in this present age, there exists someone like you.” “I shall petition the Son of Heaven to make you Nanman King.”

“No no—I must refuse! If I sought wealth and status at all,” Meng Jie waved his hand dismissively.

With that, Meng Jie waved his hand. His name was Meng Jie.

II

On the return journey, Zhuge Liang could not cease his sighs of lamentation. Even in these uncivilized barbarian lands, hidden among them were those like Meng Jie. Once again, he was struck by the profundity of the adage: *“Where men are found, there are no true men; where no men seem to exist, true men emerge.”* Thus, after overcoming numerous hardships, the three armies finally drew near to their target cave realm, but what often proved difficult was obtaining drinking water. At times, they had to dig through bedrock over twenty *zhang* deep, or else—to obtain a single source of water—recruit desperate water-fetching teams to draw from thousand-*ren* ravines.

Along the way, they had a thousand water buckets made. When rain fell, they stored it in these, loaded them onto the backs of oxen and horses, and carefully carried them as they advanced. In addition to this, clothing and provisions compounded the expedition’s hardships—there were difficulties that defied all description. Yet through unrelenting effort, this great expeditionary force finally entered the land of Tulong Cave. There they encamped along one border of the cave realm, allowing their soldiers and horses to drink deeply from clean water while arranging their field tents in orderly rows without advancing further. This stationary display was mere pretense—in truth, several detachments including Guan Suo, Wang Ping, and Wei Yan had already bypassed the enemy’s front lines to launch flanking attacks through adjacent territories. Though none but Kongming understood the operation’s ultimate objective, these units had already achieved success, capturing numerous tribal chieftains and clans to bring back alive.

Meanwhile.

At the Tulong Cave headquarters, upon learning that Zhuge Liang’s massive army had already reached the cave realm, a great upheaval erupted. At first, both Duosi King and the Meng Huo brothers, “That can’t be!” Though they wore expressions of disbelief, upon receiving urgent reports from their subordinates, they climbed a mountain and gazed into the distance—only to behold Shu Army’s encampments stretching across dozens of *li*, military flags fluttering as they lined the terrain. “How on earth did this army get here? This is no ordinary force!”

As for someone like Duosi King, his hair stood on end, his face changed color, and he nearly fainted. However, even Duosi King,

“Now that things have come to this,” declared Duosi King to Meng Huo’s brothers and the Nanman leaders, “our cave realm will be trampled by the Shu Army, and our clans and families will not survive. We must stake every tribe and cave soldier—either slaughter them all or be slaughtered ourselves! There’s no choice but to fight to the death!” Having steeled his resolve, he drank a blood oath of shared life and death with the Meng Huo brothers and proclaimed this vow to the tens of thousands of barbarian soldiers. Emboldened by this, Meng Huo roared: “Even if they’ve reached this far, they’re exhausted troops! How could we lose? If you, Great King, show true resolve, we will surely prevail! This time, not a single one of those tens of thousands of Shu curs shall return alive!”

Meng Huo declared boldly. And so they honed their fighting spirit to its peak, slaughtered cattle and horses to host a grand military feast, "The Shu army possesses extravagant equipment and vast military supplies. Those fine spears, fine swords, fine halberds, fine armor, fine battle robes, fine horses, and the abundant provisions and treasures loaded on their chariots and horses—all of it shall be given to you. If you slaughter all the Shu army, I will distribute them as rewards. Rouse yourselves! Rouse yourselves!" Meng Huo was rousing the savage spirit of his soldiers with encouragement. Just then, good news arrived.

“The tribal chieftain of the neighboring cave, Yang Feng and his clan, have come to join our side with over thirty thousand people.” So went the report. Duosi King slapped his forehead and leapt for joy. “They’ve come to aid us because if we fall, their Yinye Cave will naturally be next—this is an omen of our victory!” When they promptly welcomed them into the camp, Yang Feng grandly entered with his five sons and entire household in tow... “Ah, Great King. “Your cave’s peril is our cave realm’s own. “Though my assistance be humble, I have come to lend my strength. “This may sound boastful, but I’ve five sons here—each trained in martial valor. “You needn’t fret any longer!” he proclaimed with booming vigor.

Yang Feng proudly presented his five sons for all to see—and indeed, each one bore a frame of peerless barbaric valor, with leopard-like brows, tiger-like physiques, and an aura of ferocious vitality. "How fortunate! Our army shall surely triumph!" "Our army shall surely triumph!" Both Duosi King and Meng Huo became ecstatic with joy, opening countless wine jars, heaping meat onto platters, pouring blood into cups, and cheering wildly until night fell.

Three Barbarian songs and music filled the air, wine flowed freely, and excitement blazed. The entire army had resolved they would be victorious. Yang Feng drank heavily until thoroughly drunk, exchanging cups with Meng Huo and Meng You—but then he noticed Duosi King. “Among my clan members are many daughters of marriageable age,” he said. “Why not have them perform a dance for entertainment, then serve wine afterward?” proposed Yang Feng.

Duosi King clapped his hands, "How about it, brothers?" and turned toward Meng Huo and Meng You.

“Sounds good to us!”

Neither of them had any objections. No, far from it—Meng You stood up and announced this to the barbarian generals in attendance with a theatrical flourish. “We will now present the dance of beauties—try not to swoon from desire!” Thunderous applause erupted, then redoubled. Yang Feng whistled and beckoned toward that direction. He had evidently prepared this entertainment’s staging in advance. At his signal, a line of beauties walked into the banquet hall with synchronized movements.

The barbarian maidens’ skin bore a deep russet hue that gleamed like polished ebony. They wore their hair loose with flowers woven through it, their waists adorned with bird feathers and animal teeth. Short barbarian swords hung at their sides as they formed orderly circles, broke them apart with hip-swaying leaps, and danced with wild abandon. Cheers roared through the hall—the entire assembly teetered on the edge of raucous celebration. Hand in hand, the maidens drew Meng Huo and Meng You into their dancing ring while chanting tribal songs. Then Yang Feng suddenly sprang up and flung his wine cup skyward.

“Now, strike!” Yang Feng bellowed. Instantly, the barbarian maidens drew their short swords and tightened their circle of gleaming blades. Meng Huo and Meng You roared, kicking both the maidens and their blades aside as they leaped from the circle—but Yang Feng’s five sons and clansmen surged over them like a wave, binding them with ropes. Duosi King too tried to flee, only for Yang Feng to trip him and deliver him effortlessly to his waiting men. The Nanman generals—still slack-jawed from drink and the dancers’ allure—found themselves encircled before they could resist, their limbs frozen in helplessness.

The signal smoke had already risen from this location earlier, it seemed, while the piercing blasts of conch shells and clanging of metal drums announced that Zhuge Liang’s three armies were drawing near. Upon realizing this, Tulong Cave’s massive forces also scrambled over one another to scatter into the darkness of the mountains and wilderness.

Meng Huo turned toward Yang Feng with a terrifying countenance and a booming voice. “You there, Yang Feng! You call yourself a chieftain of the barbarian lands? You’d trap your own comrades and hand them over to Kongming?!” Yang Feng laughed and said: “Truth is—I was captured and dragged before Kongming too. But I felt his mercy, so I took this role to repay him. You should surrender already!” “Damn you! So you...!”

While he was rampaging, Kongming had already arrived here with his staff. Astonishingly, Yang Feng’s five sons—who had been presented as such—were all Shu soldiers; no sooner had they shed their barbarian disguises than they donned proper armor and took their places at the end of the ranks welcoming Kongming.

Kongming stopped walking before Meng Huo.

“This marks the fifth time, Meng Huo. Now you’ve no recourse but to submit.”

Having said that, he adopted a more resolute demeanor, “Submit? Don’t make me laugh! When have I ever been bound by you? These ropes were tied by my own comrades’ betrayal!”

“To subdue a mere commoner, the Commander-in-Chief need not stoop to act himself. If you wish to touch even my finger, you must first submit to the king’s rule.” “You prattle on about ‘the king’s rule,’ but I am the King of Nanman! My capital at Yinkeng Mountain in Yunnan has stood since my ancestors’ time, guarded by the Three Rivers’ natural fortresses and layered defenses. Defeat me there, and I might grant you deserve your lofty title. But this petty victory? You preening like some grand commander turns my stomach!”

Meng Huo’s insults and rebellious spirit remained as fierce as ever.

Heroine

I Zhuge Liang released Meng Huo a fifth time.

Upon releasing him, “On the land of your choosing, under the conditions you desire—I will grant you one more battle. However, this time, I may annihilate even your nine clans. Prepare yourself and fight with utmost care,” he said. He also released both his younger brother Meng You and Duosi King simultaneously. The three men received horses and fled back as if ashamed.

Now, originally, Meng Huo’s homeland—the barbarian capital of central Nanman—was located even further south than Yunnan (Kunming). Furthermore, the Nanman capital was called Yinkeng Cave and was said to be situated in a vast fertile plain at the confluence of three rivers.

When measured against modern maps, the place names from 1,700 years ago are naturally no longer preserved. However, examining the rivers of the southern continent—the upper reaches of French Indochina’s Mekong River, Thailand’s Menam River, and Burma’s Salween River—it is thought that all these waterways originate far in the regions of Yunnan Province, Xikang Province, and the eastern foothills of Tibet, precisely traversing the barbarian frontiers of Zhuge Liang’s expeditionary era.

Moreover, even when examining the descriptions in the original *Records of the Three Kingdoms* that depict the barbarian capital of that era— This land called Yinkeng Mountain is encircled by three rivers—the Lu, Gannan, and Xicheng—with flat plains to the north spanning a thousand *li* that abundantly yield all things. Three hundred *li* to the east lie salt wells; three hundred *li* to the south stands Liangdu Cave; and to the south rise high mountains that richly produce silver. Thus, the capital was called Yinkeng Cave, serving as the Nanman King’s stronghold. Its palaces and towers were all adorned with silver and green hues, while the people wore silk robes dyed in vivid vermilion, rouge, deep purple, yellow, and indigo. They also relished chewing olive fruits and kept their wine jars perpetually filled with barley wine and fruit liquor.

Within the palace grounds, they built an ancestral shrine, reverently naming it the Household Spirits; they slaughtered oxen and horses throughout the four seasons to offer sacrifices, designating this practice as the Divination Spirits; and year after year, they captured foreigners to present as ritual offerings. Such were their methods of capturing living beings. And so on.

In short, one would not be far off imagining it as the area around present-day Burma, French Indochina, and Yunnan Province. The reason Meng Huo left his barbarian capital in the central region and went out of his way to confront Kongming’s expeditionary forces near the Guizhou-Guangxi border, enduring repeated hard-fought and disadvantageous battles, was ultimately due to circumstances compelling him to personally take command against the Shu-border governors and various cave chieftains he had incited into action. As Meng Huo himself had boasted to Kongming, the true demonstration of his inherent strength—his very essence as a leader—would lie in fighting from the strategic stronghold of his barbarian capital at Sanjiang’s Three Rivers, which was both his rightful duty and deepest aspiration.

Now, Meng Huo had finally been defeated time and again and returned to his long-sought barbarian capital. In the barbarian palace with its jade-green sands and silver walls, several thousand cave chiefs and tribal chieftains from all directions had gathered, discussing the upheaval as if doomsday had arrived. It was practically a grand council unprecedented since the founding of the barbarian realm, with daily deliberations being held—when Dai Lai, Eighth Division Chief and younger brother to Lady Meng Huo, stood forth. “This can only be resolved by seeking aid from King Mulu, Chieftain of the Bana Cave who holds sway over the tropical southwest kingdom. King Mulu always rides his great elephant to lead battles—the moment he takes position, he wields mysterious magical powers to summon winds and command tigers, leopards, jackals, wolves, venomous snakes, and poisonous scorpions as his kinfolk marching against enemy lines. Moreover, he commands thirty thousand fierce warriors whose martial might now makes even neighboring Tianzhu tremble. Though long at odds with our barbarian capital, if we humble ourselves with gifts and fully explain this calamity befalling all our lands—he too being a son of these wilds—will surely lend his strength,” Dai Lai declared.

The entire assembly raised both hands in unanimous approval. “Then you shall go as our envoy,” commanded Meng Huo, whereupon Dai Lai immediately departed for the southwestern kingdom under this order. It was likely a power in what is now the Burma and India region. At the strategic confluence of the Three Rivers lay Sancheng City, serving as the forward bastion for Yinkeng Mountain’s barbarian palace. Meng Huo confined Duosi King there and appointed him supreme commander of the vanguard.

II

Shu’s large army arrived at Sancheng after days of travel. Truly, the arduous journey itself had been a battle greater than any combat. Sancheng City was connected to rivers on three sides and land on one. Zhuge Liang first ordered Wei Yan and Zhao Yun’s troops to probe the city’s defenses with a test assault. Yet even for a barbarian force, the citadel proved impregnable, its soldiers elite. Countless crossbows lined the battlements. Each could loose ten arrows at once—their tips poisoned to ensure no mere wounds. Those struck would writhe as their flesh rotted away, entrails spilling forth in death.

They had launched three attacks, but on the fourth attempt, Zhuge Liang abruptly withdrew his entire camp about ten *li*. The elegance of his retreats and utter disregard for the stigma of flight could be considered defining characteristics of Zhuge Liang’s tactics. “Shu troops fled their camp in fear of our poisoned crossbows!” The Nanman army swelled with pride and grew arrogant. Military strategy is sagacity and culture itself. The sophistication of a civilization can be measured by it. As seven days passed—then ten—their simple arrogance took root: “Zhuge Liang and his ilk aren’t so formidable after all,” they scoffed, growing ever more dismissive of their foe.

Zhuge Liang was observing the weather. In any situation, he never forgets to have natural forces as his ally.

Days of strong winds continued. This sand-laden violent wind was likely to continue into tomorrow as well. In the name of Kongming, a proclamation was posted across all encampments. It read: “By the first watch tomorrow evening, every soldier in each unit shall prepare one garment (clothing) without exception.” “Those who neglect this shall be beheaded.”

Though they didn't understand why, it being a strict command, from unit commanders down to foot soldiers they all carried one piece of cloth, "What in the world is this for?" they muttered suspiciously as they waited.

Suddenly, the order to march out was issued. Next came the formation of the ranks. It was precisely the hour of the first watch. Zhuge Liang stood upon the command platform and issued three orders.

First: Each soldier shall fill the garment they carry with soil from beneath their feet to make earth sacks. Second: Each soldier shall carry one earth sack and march in succession according to orders. Third: When you reach the base of Sancheng City’s walls, pile up and discard the earth sacks. Once the mountain of earth sacks equals the wall’s height, immediately climb over them to enter inside the city. Those who enter quickly shall receive great rewards! It was only at this moment that they all finally understood Zhuge Liang’s plan. Their force of over two hundred thousand, augmented by more than ten thousand surrendered soldiers from Nanman territory—each carrying a single sack—had already pressed toward the walls of Sancheng City.

The massive army surged forward like a swarm all at once, rendering the barrage of arrows and poisoned crossbows futile—they couldn’t even strike down a thousandth of their force. In moments, heaps of earth sacks rose in multiple locations. These sacks numbered over two hundred thousand—equal to the soldiers themselves—making no wall too high to surmount instantly. Wei Yan, Guan Suo, Wang Ping, and their forces competed fiercely to leap first into the gaps between the city walls. Tossing the earth sacks they had carried, they effortlessly created a passage here as well.

The Nanman army, like fish trapped in a boiling cauldron, scrambled in chaos, utterly devoid of any means to resist. Many fled toward Silver Pit Mountain, while others opened the sluice gates and spilled out onto the river.

The captives taken alive were beyond counting. As was customary, they issued admonitions and showed benevolence to them. Then, opening the city’s treasures, they distributed every last one to the three armies.

There was a rumor that King Duosi had been struck down amidst the chaotic army at this time—a pitiful end without even a final word. “What? Sancheng has fallen?” “Already? Zhuge Liang’s forces have entered?!” At Silver Pit Mountain’s Nanman palace, Meng Huo turned deathly pale. Even as he gathered his clan for council, he remained in panicked disarray, utterly clueless about what to do next.

Then, from behind the gauze screen at the rear, someone chuckled. “Who’s this rude wretch?” demanded the clansmen as they peered around—only to find Meng Huo’s wife, Lady Zhurong, reclining on a couch in the midst of a prolonged midday nap. The male lion, usually kept in the lady’s room and doted on like a cat, also rested its chin near her waist and drowsily half-closed its eyes.

**Three** As they resumed their council unchanged, Lady Zhurong chuckled softly once more in the adjacent room. When the people displayed looks of irritation, Meng Huo—as her husband—could no longer stay silent and finally barked a rebuke from his seat.

“Wife! What are you laughing at?” Then Lady Zhurong, along with her lion, bolted upright from her couch. Without so much as a glance at the clansmen, she snapped back at her husband Meng Huo. “What’s wrong with you? Born a man, yet you’ve no backbone. How can you call yourself king of Nanman if you can’t even drive off a hundred or two hundred thousand Shu troops? Though I am a woman, if I go, I won’t let Kongming trample this country!” This woman had married into a lineage 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, she never missed her mark.

In exchange for this dominance over her household, Meng Huo wore a thoroughly deflated expression when addressed this way and could muster no retort. Having suffered defeat after defeat in truth, the clan too sat dumbfounded in shared silence. “Entrust me with an army,” she demanded. “I will take position at the vanguard and crush Shu’s forces. Shall we endure Kongming’s posturing any longer?” The next day, she rode her curly-maned steed with hair unbound and feet bare—clad in crimson battle robes and a golden breastplate studded with pearls, seven daggers strapped to her back and a spear over ten feet long in hand—as she raced through battle’s flames like wildfire incarnate.

The Shu soldiers felled by that spear were beyond counting. Shu’s Zhang Ni, witnessing this— “A strange foe,” —approached from behind. Then, abruptly, a dagger came streaking down from the heavens. The blade pierced Zhang Ni’s thigh, sending him tumbling headfirst from his steed. “Bind that one!” she snapped at her subordinates before wheeling toward her next opponent. Shu’s Ma Zhong gave pursuit only to meet twin daggers flung in like manner—one embedding itself in his horse’s skull—and thus he too fell captive to the Nanman host.

That day’s battle saw the Nanman army fighting fiercely, and Meng Huo suddenly— “Victory is within sight!” he leaped up and began to rejoice. Lady Zhurong proposed beheading Zhang Ni and Ma Zhong—the two generals she had captured—to further boost morale, but her husband Meng Huo— “No! I’ve been captured five times myself and released by Kongming. If we kill them now, it’ll make me look petty. After we capture Kongming alive, we’ll line them all up and behead them together!”

he said. The two captive generals were kept alive and occasionally gazed upon for amusement, becoming objects of laughter.

Zhuge Liang was concerned for the safety of the two generals. However, he had stated that they probably would not kill them. He had devised a rescue plan and had instructed Zhao Yun and Wei Yan in the strategy.

The battle under scorching heat continued day after day. Wherever flames danced across its expanse，there stood Lady Zhurong. Zhao Yun advanced and challenged her to single combat. Yet she remained elusive. Whenever she sensed his upper hand，she would hurl daggers and vanish into openings between strikes—a woman warrior’s cunning made manifest. It felt like pursuing songbirds through dense foliage—no matter how he strained，his grasp found only air. She slipped through every snare. Even mighty Zhao Yun grew despondent. The next dawn saw Wei Yan withhold his presence，dispatching jeering foot soldiers instead. Lady Zhurong raged forth in pursuit. After drawing her deep into their web，the Shu forces judged their moment ripe and struck.

“Wait, Lady Ostrich!” Lady Zhurong turned around, hurled a dagger, and attempted to retreat as usual. Zhao Yun, from another direction, sounded the war drums, “Is that an ostrich or a she-ape?” they jeered. With her hair standing on end, Lady Zhurong finally charged into the Shu army in a fit of emotion. The Shu army deliberately scattered in flight. And when they stopped, they unleashed another barrage of insults. Gradually luring her into the mountains, they created the planned perilous terrain. Then, surging from all sides to envelop her, they finally succeeded in capturing Lady Zhurong.

Zhuge Liang sent a messenger to Meng Huo’s camp. “Your wife has come to my camp. I will exchange her for Zhang Ni and Ma Zhong.” Meng Huo was startled and immediately sent back the two generals. Zhuge Liang made Lady Zhurong drink wine before sending her back. Though somewhat wilted at first, after drinking a gallon of wine and being untied, she grew remarkably animated, left grandiose remarks mirroring Meng Huo’s bluster, and departed.

Walking Wooden Beasts

1

Dairai, who had gone as an envoy to a neighboring country, returned and reported. “We have received consent to our proposal. Within a few days, King Mulu will lead his army here.” “If King Mulu’s army comes, the Shu forces will be reduced to splinters!” His sister Lady Zhurong and her husband Meng Huo were now clinging to that single thread of hope alone. When they heard that King Mulu of Bana Cave had arrived at the city gates with tens of thousands of troops, the couple exited the palace gates to welcome him.

“Well, well! To have both of you welcome me—I’m honored.”

King Mulu arrived riding a white elephant. Around its neck hung golden bells, while upon its back sat a saddle adorned with seven treasures. He wore a silver-brocade battle surplice over his body, a golden bead neck ring, golden ankle rings, jeweled ornaments dangling from his waist, and carried two large swords at his side. “Rest assured, Meng Huo and your wife.” After dismounting from the white elephant, King Mulu spoke these words while being leisurely guided through a forest of barbarian banners deep into the palace’s inner sanctum. Among the thirty thousand troops he had brought marched nearly a thousand wild beasts—lions, tigers, elephants, black leopards, wolves—whose roars shook the very air.

Deep within the palace, a grand welcoming banquet appeared to have lasted until midnight, with blazing bonfires and raucous Nanman music resounding through the night. Meng Huo and his wife extended their lavish hospitality through three days of feasting, employing every flattering gesture and concession to curry King Mulu's favor. The Great King remained thoroughly pleased, and on the fourth day since his arrival at the fortress, “Very well—tomorrow I shall rout the Shu army and demonstrate my might,” he declared while issuing mobilization orders. To their consternation, from that evening until dawn, the beasts of the war-animal corps howled ceaselessly toward the heavens. They later learned this was standard practice—before battle, handlers starved the creatures to sharpen their ferocity.

The next day, the Great King finally took his position at the front lines. Mounted on his signature white elephant, he laid two treasure swords across his lap and held a bell with a stem in his hand. The Shu army was astonished. “What is that?” Since the soldiers appeared to cower in fear even before the battle had begun, Zhao Yun, Wei Yan, and others climbed up the watchtower to see. Indeed, it was no wonder the troops were terrified. The soldiers of the Mulu army had faces and skin that were pitch black, no different from lacquer-coated oni and rakshasas. Moreover, behind the Great King, the chained horde of wild beasts wagged their tails and roared toward the clouds.

“Wei Yan! Wei Yan! In all my years until now, I have never encountered such an enemy. What will become of us?” “No, this humble one’s first time as well. What a bizarre army that is.” Even these seasoned generals stood bewildered and fearful, finding themselves suddenly unable to devise any strategy or tactic. Then King Mulu—towering atop his white elephant—rang the bell in his hand, ordering the spear vanguard to charge first. As soon as he saw the two armies clash in chaos, he clanged the bell even more violently.

The beast unit, which had been awaiting their moment, simultaneously released their chains and opened their cages. At the same time, King Mulu began murmuring incantations and assumed a posture of prayer. The swarm of lions, tigers, leopards, venomous serpents, and scorpions suddenly whirled up dust clouds, crawling through grass and leaping through air as they assaulted the Shu ranks. Their bellies clung taut against their spines. These were true beasts of starvation - tigers and wolves driven mad by hunger. Baring fangs that churned the very winds, they manifested insatiable bloodlust.

They fled and fled, their ranks crumbling. No matter how much they were berated to halt, the Shu soldiers' feet refused to stop. In the end, they had retreated in complete disarray all the way to Sankou's border. The Nanman army routed them effortlessly, slaughtering the lagging Shu troops with ferocity surpassing even their beasts. The uncanny demonic bell clanged resoundingly once more. Around King Mulu's white elephant, the sated beast horde returned triumphantly, tails wagging. They were caged again or bound with chains, then withdrew to the royal palace as drums and horns sounded.

Upon hearing of the day’s defeat from generals Zhao Yun and Wei Yan, Zhuge Liang laughed. “Books indeed do not lie,” he said. “In my youth, when I read military texts in my thatched cottage, I saw that the Nanman Kingdom had battle formations employing jackals, wolves, tigers, and leopards. What we faced today must surely be those very tactics.” “Fortunately, since departing Shu, I have prepared for such contingencies from the outset. Therefore, there is absolutely no cause for alarm or panic.”

He immediately ordered a unit of soldiers to bring the aforementioned vehicles here.

II

Each one covered with a cloth, there were over twenty vehicles that had been deeply concealed within the army. The soldiers soon brought all of them without exception. “Remove the cloth covers.” Zhuge Liang commanded. On each one was loaded a box as large as a small house. As the people stared with curious eyes, wondering what would appear, a large chest came into view from beneath the removed cloth covers. Over ten vehicles were loaded with black-lacquered chests, while the remaining ten or more vehicles carried vermilion-lacquered ones.

Zhuge Liang took a key and personally dismantled every one of the vermilion-lacquered chests. Astonishingly enormous wooden 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 are you going to do with these, exactly?” “So these are the over twenty vehicles you had us bring all the way from Chengdu?” The generals were perplexed by Zhuge Liang’s intentions.

The next day, the Shu army faced the path at the cave entrance and established a formidable five-layered defense. Meng Huo, swollen with arrogance from the previous day’s victory, stood brimming with zeal. He appeared at the front lines together with King Mulu, “There! The man atop that four-wheeled chariot you see yonder is Shu’s Kongming—that schemer!” “Great King, I implore you to grant us another decisive victory like yesterday’s!” He pointed emphatically. King Mulu gave a solemn nod and rang his ritual bell as was his custom, summoning a black gale that drove the horde of wild beasts behind him toward the enemy ranks.

Amid the ferocious roars of a hundred beasts, sand flew and a fierce wind howled. Zhuge Liang’s four-wheeled chariot immediately turned its rudder and began retreating into the second defensive line.

King Mulu whipped his great elephant and galloped closer, brandishing his treasured sword from atop his high saddle,

“Kongming! Today is the day I take your life!” he shouted，swinging down his blade.

The blade struck down one pillar of the Four-wheeled Chariot. King Mulu unleashed another flash, then another flash of his blade, slashing while reciting incantations—yet all three strikes failed to find their mark. And instead, the great elephant’s belly was stabbed by the two foot soldier spearmen who had circled behind it. But the spears did not pierce the elephant’s belly. One spear broke, and another was deflected. Zhuge Liang raised his feather fan and,

“Guan Suo, why aren’t you thrusting at anyone?!” he barked again.

“King Mulu is dead!” he barked. “What?!”

As he brandished his sword for the fourth strike, an arrow whistled through the air and lodged itself in Mulu’s throat. Simultaneously, Guan Suo’s spear, thrusting upward from below, pierced through his chin. King Mulu fell with a ground-shaking thud. The foot soldiers who pushed Zhuge Liang’s Four-wheeled Chariot that day were—from Guan Suo down to the last man—all of Shu’s most distinguished elite guardsmen. King Mulu had met his end by willingly charging into the strongest part of the Shu army.

When viewed comprehensively, even the previous day’s beast charge proved utterly useless on this occasion. This was because Shu’s forces had also prepared wooden beasts of their own. These colossal wooden monstrosities—with wheels attached to their legs—spewed fire and smoke from their mouths, emitted strange roars, advanced forward, wheeled sideways, and rampaged freely in all directions, their imposing forms so terrifying that even living tigers, leopards, and wolves recoiled in shock.

To reveal the secret, inside each wooden beast were ten soldiers. Whether spewing fire and smoke, roaring, or advancing and retreating—all were functions of the gunpowder and mechanical devices installed inside. Of course, it was an unprecedented new weapon, devised by Zhuge Liang. The barbarians were astonished, but even the real tigers and lions were startled. The living wild beast troops suddenly drooped their tails and collapsed into chaos. The war drums and horns of Shu shook heaven and earth, and they pursued the routed barbarian army, finally seizing the royal palace of Silver Pit Mountain.

Meng Huo, his wife Zhurong, Dailai, and the rest of their clan all abandoned their homes and fled, but the Shu army lay in wait and captured them all in one fell swoop. However, Zhuge Liang released Meng Huo and his entire family clan, “How can birds without nests or humans without homes survive?” “Not to mention—even if you were to defy royal authority—what strength could you possibly muster?” “Do as you will while you still can,” he declared, once again setting them free. Now robbed of even the vigor to hurl bold words and venomous tongues, Meng Huo fled like a rat clutching his head. As for the clan members who had revered him as their king and patriarch, their spinelessness was beyond description.

Vine Armor Barbarians

Part 1 Already without a country, without a palace, and with nowhere to go, Meng Huo was despondent,

“Where should we settle to plan our resurgence?” Meng Huo consulted those around him.

His wife's younger brother, Dailai, said.

“Southeast from here, seven hundred li away, there lies a kingdom called Wuge. Its king is a man named Wutugu. They neither eat the five grains nor cook their food—devouring wild beasts, snakes, and fish instead—and I hear their bodies are covered in scales. Under his command march thirty thousand soldiers called the Vine Armor Troops.” “What are these Vine Armor Troops?” “Throughout Wuge’s mountains and fields grow wild mountain vines. They dry these vines, soak them in oil, then sun-dry them again—repeating this process dozens of times—to weave armor. Soldiers clad in this armor are called Vine Armor Troops. No neighboring kingdom has ever defeated them.”

“Why is that?” “First, even when soaked in water, Vine Armor doesn’t let a drop through.” “Second, it’s so light that they can move with perfect agility.” “Third, when crossing rivers, they don’t need boats—every soldier in vine armor can float effortlessly and swim freely.” “Fourth, the armor’s so tough that neither arrows nor blades can pierce it.”

“I see. Then they must be invincible.” “Let me meet Wutugu and request his aid in this urgent situation.” Leading his clan’s defeated troops, Meng Huo went to seek help from the Wuge Kingdom. Without deliberation, Wutugu nodded firmly and said, “Very well.” Immediately, thirty thousand of his subordinates donned vine armor and assembled in Dongshi. Meng Huo’s remaining troops gradually gathered until their combined forces exceeded a hundred thousand. Departing from the Wuge Kingdom, they encamped at Tao River. This river’s waters ran deep emerald, with peach trees densely lining both banks. Over time, fallen leaves would steep in the river water, creating a poisonous brew that caused severe diarrhea in travelers. Yet for the natives of Wuge Kingdom, it was said to be an invigorating tonic.

After entering the barbarian metropolis of Silver Pit, Zhuge Liang governed without plundering, subdued without slaughtering, thoroughly spread virtue, reorganized his forces, and continued expanding his royal campaigns. “Wei Yan, take a detachment and scout the Taoye Ford,” he ordered. “Just strike once and gauge their strength.” Having received Zhuge Liang’s instructions, Wei Yan immediately set out ahead toward Tao River. Along the way, they clashed with the allied forces of Wuge Kingdom’s soldiers and Meng Huo. The barbarian army, brimming with confidence, boldly crossed the river and launched their offensive.

Though Wutugu commanded a fresh large army while Wei Yan’s unit was small in number, the barbarian forces roared with war cries—their ferocity had fully restored the vigor they displayed the previous day. What first shocked them in the opening skirmish was how none of the Shu army’s arrows proved effective. No matter how many times they struck home, every arrow simply rebounded from the enemy soldiers’ bodies. Even when combat turned to close quarters, blades could not pierce their limbs. With this unshakable confidence fueling them, the Vine Armor Troops’ morale burned fiercely as they swung their barbarian swords with biting ferocity.

The Shu soldiers were immediately cut down and driven back, plunging into total disarray. “Fall back for now!”

With a blast of his horn, Wutugu leisurely withdrew his troops. He was one who knew military tactics better than Meng Huo. As they returned and crossed the river, the Vine Armor Troops all floated on the current, swimming across with ease like a swarm of water striders before climbing onto the opposite bank. Among them, some soldiers, finding it hot, took off their vine armor, floated it on the water, and sat atop it to cross. Wei Yan saw this and was astonished. He reported exactly what he had witnessed to Kongming,

“They are strange foreign barbarians.”

When he finished speaking, Kongming also tilted his head in puzzlement but soon called for Lü Kai,

“Which barbarian kingdom is this?” he asked. After Lü Kai examined the map, “Ah, so these must be the Vine Armor Troops of Wuge Kingdom.” “They are barbarian soldiers who cannot be governed by human ethics.” “Moreover, the poison of the peach blossom water is something no outsider may draw.” “How about withdrawing from this area now?” “Having such a half-beast army as our enemy would be unbearable even for a day,” he urged, strongly recommending withdrawal.

Two Though he acknowledged Lü Kai’s counsel, Zhuge Liang shook his head and addressed those around him. “There is no greater sin than beginning a task and failing to see it through to completion. How great is the waste of those soldiers’ lives? How can we atone to countless souls?—Moreover, if we withdraw now, leaving even a single corner of darkness in this barbarian realm, all our efforts will be rendered meaningless.”

The next day, he personally drove his four-wheeled chariot forward, patrolled the entire Tao River bank, and surveyed the surrounding terrain. Then, after dismounting from the chariot, he climbed a northern mountain on foot to assess the treacherous paths, and upon returning wordlessly to the encampment, immediately summoned Ma Dai.

“In addition to the wooden beast vehicles we recently employed, there should be over ten war wagons loaded with black chests. You are to take those and, along with a division of soldiers, conceal them within Pan Snake Valley north of Tao River...and use the war wagons in this manner,” he whispered, imparting a meticulous secret plan.

It appeared that utmost secrecy was required, for Zhuge Liang was uncharacteristically stern, “If the secret leaks and we are defeated from within, I will judge you by military law and punish you.” “Do not allow any oversight,” he admonished.

Ma Dai’s army, along with over ten war wagons, had vanished without a trace from that very midnight.

The next morning, Zhuge Liang again summoned Zhao Yun and granted him a division of troops. “You are to emerge from the rear of Pan Snake Valley onto the main road leading to Sanjiang and make such-and-such preparations.” “Do not miss the deadline under any circumstances.” he instructed.

Next, Wei Yan was summoned, “You shall lead the elite troops, appear before the enemy’s front, and set up camp on the banks of the Tao River. You may take as many soldiers as you wish,” Kongming told him. Wei Yan was greatly pleased, thinking, *I am the one entrusted with the vanguard’s front line!* when— “But—” Zhuge Liang continued, as if to suppress his enthusiasm, “Above all, you must not win. If the enemy crosses the river and launches a strong assault, you must fight appropriately and retreat. Abandon your military encampment and flee—a white flag will be raised at your retreat point. 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 exploit their advantage. You shall abandon each military encampment—the fourth white flag’s location, the fifth white flag’s location—and continue fleeing in disgrace.”

Wei Yan puffed up his face. “Just how far are we to flee, as you order?” “Within fifteen days, you must lose fifteen battles, abandon seven encampments, and 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, but Wei Yan withdrew with a sullen, 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—“This time we shall purge every hostile element from these barbarian lands”—each of his subordinates tightened their armor straps and watched for the opportune moment to strike. Meanwhile, Wutugu and Meng Huo had withdrawn south of the river once more. Though swollen with pride from recent victories, they warily cautioned one another against reckless action. “That schemer Kongming reeks of trickery—there’s no predicting his moves,” growled Meng Huo. “I implore you, King Wutugu—inspect every forest thicket and mountain crevice where troops might hide! Leave no shadow unchecked!”

“Oh, Meng Huo. “That aspect, I am well aware of.” “You’re the one who’s always so reckless—watch yourself.” The barbarian lookout soldiers came to report. “Since last night, Shu soldiers have begun constructing a military encampment on the northern bank.” “They have quite a large force.” “Let me see, let me see.” The two barbarian kings went out to the bank and shaded their eyes. “If they build a sturdy military encampment at that strategic point, it’ll prove quite troublesome. “Destroy them now!” Upon the command’s issuance, the Vine Armor Troops immediately crossed the water and launched an assault on the position.

Wei Yan fought and fled repeatedly. However, the barbarian army had learned their lesson. They did not pursue far. When they had secured victory, they skillfully recrossed the river and withdrew to their original bank.

Wei Yan also returned to the previous bank and began constructing a military encampment. Zhuge Liang supplied additional fresh troops. Seeing this, the barbarian army also reinforced their ranks and resumed their attacks.

War Wagons and Landmines

I

On this day, the entire Vine Armor Troops crossed the river, with Wutugu himself taking command. The Shu soldiers, while making a show of resisting, gradually collapsed, soon disrupted their formation, discarded their flags, weapons, and helmets, and retreated in disarray.

And then, they gathered at the location where a single white flag fluttered. “The enemy has developed a habit of fleeing! They’re no longer a threat—chase them down and slaughter them all!” Wutugu, triumphant, signaled to Meng Huo in the allied rear formation. At last, they pressed their pursuit and struck the enemy’s regrouping forces once more. Wei Yan, acting according to plan, continued his retreat—feigning defeat in battle after battle—as he traced the collapse points marked by the third white flag, then the fourth.

Within seven days, they abandoned three military encampments and collapsed seven regroupings as they fled.

“Hmm?” “They’re a bit too fragile.”

Wutugu must have begun to harbor suspicions as well. The pursuit slackened slightly. Then, Wei Yan suddenly raised his morale, added fresh troops, and attempted a counterattack.

In the counterattack, Wei Yan advanced to the front and challenged Wutugu to a one-on-one duel. And because he fled from the tip of his halberd, Wutugu— “Now is the time!” he spurred his horse and gave chase. The decoy operation was challenging. Fleeing too much would arouse suspicion. Wei Yan would occasionally turn back to hurl insults at the enemy and feign aggression, ultimately fleeing for fifteen days while tracing fifteen white flags in his desperate retreat. At this point, even the ever-suspicious Wutugu could not help but grow arrogant over his own military exploits. Glancing back at his subordinates, he boasted from atop his elephant.

“What did I tell you? In fifteen days of relentless battle, we’ve smashed seven Shu fortifications and won fifteen straight victories! From Taojiang onward—over three hundred *li*—not a single Shu soldier remains! Even Kongming himself flees like leaves before the wind—our triumph is assured! Raise the victory chant! Raise it!”

Drunk on their achieved victories and plundered wine, they displayed a fearsome fighting spirit; brimming with ever-growing confidence, the Invincible Vine Armor Troops faced the next day’s battle.

On this day, General Wutugu rode a white elephant, wearing a white-moon wolf-head cap and clad in a scaled cuirass studded with blue-gold and white pearls. His limbs were starkly exposed and blackened, his face resembling that of an enraged arhat as he brandished his iron spear amidst the Shu army.

Wei Yan engaged them in a fierce struggle before deliberately fleeing around a mountain and retreating into the heart of Pan Snake Valley. Along with his subordinates, Wutugu, who had pursued them, tentatively halted his white elephant and— “Is there an ambush?” he surveyed the area with a cautious eye, but since the surrounding mountains were barren of vegetation and showed no sign of hidden troops, he felt reassured and allowed his entire army to rest in this valley, “Where did the Shu army disappear to?” he muttered, pausing to catch his breath. Then his subordinate barbarian soldiers—

“From here onward into the depths, large cargo wagons have been abandoned in various places—over ten of them.”

When this was reported to him, he personally went to inspect and saw that, indeed, what appeared to be cargo wagons loaded with provisions were scattered here and there. "This is a splendid haul of spoils! In their panic, the enemy dragged the cargo wagons into the valley—but upon encountering the mountain path, unable to retreat or advance—they abandoned them and fled. The cargo wagons must be filled with Chengdu’s rare delicacies. Drag all those out of the valley and gather them up!" And as he himself turned back and tried to exit the gorge’s narrow exit, suddenly—with a thunderous roar that shook heaven and earth—boulders and massive trees came crashing down overhead.

“What in the—?” Wutugu gasped in shock, but before he could retreat, the barbarian soldiers to his left and right were crushed beneath boulders and massive trees, their corpses numbering in the hundreds. Moreover, as even more large trees and rocks came crashing down, the valley entrance was instantly blocked. “There are still enemies on the mountain! Get out quickly!” “Clear the path quickly!” As he shouted commands like a madman, a single wagon beside him spontaneously burst into flames.

Finally panicking, the entire army surged chaotically toward the depths of the valley—and then, with a thunderous roar, the earth exploded. The limbs of barbarian soldiers blasted away by raging flames and explosive smoke had become dust in the sky, mingled with earth and sand.

II

Wutugu leaped down from the white elephant's back. The white elephant, driven mad by the flames, plunged into the inferno and perished in the blaze. He clung desperately to the cliff face, attempting to climb to safety, but torches rained down like fiery hail from both mountain flanks. Furthermore, when flames reached the fuses concealed within rock crevices and beneath the earth, that sprawling valley transformed in an instant into a hellscape resembling a cauldron of boiling oil set alight. Flames clawed wildly at the sky while unceasing explosions thundered, their roars mingling with acrid smoke that billowed thickly through the air.

The Vine Armor Troops of Wuguo Kingdom were burned to death, not a single soldier surviving. Their numbers exceeded thirty thousand, and when viewed from above Pan Snake Valley after the flames had subsided, it was as if one were looking at the empty husks of pests eradicated by fire. Zhuge Liang stood there the next day, tears streaming down his face, “Though there may be some merit for the state, I will surely shorten my own lifespan... Even so—to have slaughtered to this extent,” he sighed.

All who heard were moved to pity, but Zhao Yun alone disagreed and instead criticized it as Zhuge Liang’s narrow-minded view. “Life flows in endless cycles; fate turns through eternal rebirths,” he said. “Form arises only to perish; perishing, it gives rise to form. Is this not the unchanging form of the great life that has endured for tens of thousands of years? Once the Yellow River’s waters overflow, tens of thousands of lives vanish—yet from the azure desolation, ears of grain ripen once more, and people multiply. In the Yellow River’s raging floods, there is only divine will and no virtue of human intent—but does not your great undertaking carry the mission of civilizing? Even if you were to destroy a million barbarians, if you plant a thousand-year virtue in their land, such a trifling act of slaughter would be as nothing.”

“Ah… You have spoken well.”

Zhuge Liang pressed Zhao Yun's palm to his forehead and shed several more tears.

Meanwhile, Nanman King Meng Huo was at his rear encampment, still unaware even in his dreams of the total annihilation of Wuguo Kingdom’s troops.

At that moment, approximately a thousand barbarian soldiers came to meet him, “Under King Wuzhang’s command, the Vine Armor Troops pursued and cornered even the mighty Shu forces—finally driving Zhuge Liang into Pan Snake Valley.” “We have been instructed to inform Your Majesty to come at once and witness the Prime Minister’s final moments together with us.” Upon hearing this, Meng Huo—

“Perfect!” “Kongming’s luck has finally run out!”

With that，he immediately mounted a great elephant and，together with all his subordinates，hurried toward Pan Snake Valley． “Wait！In my haste，have I taken a wrong path？” By the time he noticed，the suspicious unit of a thousand barbarian soldiers that had been rushing ahead as guides was nowhere to be found． “This feels off…” When he tried to turn back，it was already too late．

From one sparse grove, Zhang Ni and Wang Ping beat war drums and charged out, while from the shadowed mountainside, Wei Yan and Ma Zhong raised battle cries and closed in. “Fall back! No—charge ahead!” In their panicked flight, they rushed headlong toward the base of the mountain—when suddenly, from the peaks above, flags and drums cascaded down all at once. “Meng Huo, face your doom!” At once, young Shu generals such as Guan Suo and Ma Dai brandished their dragon lances and serpent spears as they charged forward. “Damn it!” The white elephant was too slow. Meng Huo jumped down and dashed into a path through the forest.

Then, from ahead came the jingling of gold and silver bells as a single four-wheeled chariot with a silken canopy was pushed forward, cool and composed. It was Kongming. That gentle smile was his. Raising his feather fan, he barked a command: “Rebel scoundrel Meng Huo! Have you still not opened your eyes?!”

he barked.

Meng Huo’s vision swam dizzily; with an anguished cry—Aaah!—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 great generals laughed at the sheer audacity that could blind even a wild beast, peering into his makeshift cage as they passed by.

Royal Wind Ten Thousand Li

One

That night, Zhuge Liang met with his generals and—after concluding their discussion— “Zhao Yun spoke very wisely and offered comfort regarding my strategies, but no matter how one looks at it, having dared to carry out this great slaughter has greatly damaged my accumulation of hidden virtue,” he said, and regarding that strategy— “The strategy of repeating fifteen retreats to lure the enemy’s arrogance and guide them into Pan Snake Valley must already be clear to you all.” “However, in this great battle of annihilation, my use of landmines, war wagons, and fuses—devices I had devised since my youth—differed somewhat in character compared to previous wars.” “However, warfare is ultimately about ‘people’ themselves—it is not the ‘weapons’ that take precedence.” “Therefore, I must take care from this moment for the future that such a thing as Shu’s soldiers weakening because Shu possesses these new weapons absolutely does not occur.”

he said, and further, “At first, when the Vine Armor Troops appeared, even I was momentarily at a loss for strategies—for we were only shown their advantageous maneuvers. But upon reflecting on their weaknesses, I realized through the principle that ‘what thrives in water inevitably perishes in fire’: their oil-soaked rattan armor would not only fail to protect them against flames but would instead become the very thing that burned them.” “‘The plans for flame chariots and landmines were all conceived from that realization,’ he explained, delivering what resembled a lecture on military tactics.”

All the generals sighed in awe three times and prostrated themselves in submission, acknowledging that the Prime Minister’s divine wisdom was unfathomable. The next day, Kongming had Meng Huo, Lady Zhurong, his brother Dailai, and even Meng You dragged out from the cage in the camp, strung together like beads on a string, and gazed at them sorrowfully, “Well, well… Does even heavenly compassion fail to penetrate those without virtue? “Such creatures are unworthy of being called human; even my eyes feel shame to look upon them.” “Release them quickly and send them back to the mountains and wilds,” he said, then began to move away into the distance with a countenance beyond love or hatred—like the Dian Dian waters receding.

Then suddenly, an eerie wail erupted, “Prime Minister….” “Wait! Wait!”

Meng Huo cried out. Still bound by ropes, he lunged forward and clamped his teeth onto Kongming’s robe. “What is it?”

Glancing sidelong, he said as Meng Huo kowtowed so fiercely his forehead nearly struck the ground, “I was wrong… Forgive me,” he strained in a choked voice. “Alas! Alas!” he sobbed convulsively. “Though we are unlearned barbarians, from ancient times until now, there has never been an example of one captured seven times and released seven times!” “However much we may be savages beyond civilization, how could we not feel gratitude for such immense grace?” “……Please forgive me.” “Please forgive me.”

“Hmm… Is this genuine?” “H-how…? Merely reflecting on my past transgressions fills me with utter dread.”

“Very well,” said Zhuge Liang. “Let us rejoice together. Let us prosper together.” He slapped his knee and personally untied Meng Huo’s bonds—along with those of Lady Zhurong, Meng You, Dailai, and all his clan members—releasing them. For the first time, Kongming’s heart lay exposed. No—the Royal Wind Ten Thousand Li had left nothing unfulfilled. “I too am gladdened.” Meng Huo’s clan members chorused as one: “The Prime Minister’s celestial majesty! The Royal Wind’s compassion! Never again shall we southern folk rebel!” they proclaimed in oath. Zhuge Liang shifted his tone once more and addressed Meng Huo directly.

“You there—have you now truly submitted in your heart?” “There is no need for your concern.” “Then, remain with me.” With this, he took Meng Huo’s hand with reverence, invited him to the tent’s upper dais, granted seats to his wife and clan, shared a feast with them, and with cup to cup pledged thus: “All your crimes, Kongming will bear. “Kongming’s merits shall be yielded to you. “Therefore, you shall remain as King of Nanman as before for all time and govern the people of these southern lands with love. “And in place of Kongming, strive to spread royal governance.”

Upon hearing this, Meng Huo covered his face with both hands and for a time… could not dry his tears of shame. The tears of emotion and jubilation of the entire clan went without saying.

Two

The expedition of myriad miles. The day of return came. Looking back, having endured a hundred hardships and a hundred battles, this living body felt like a miracle. Chief Clerk Fei Yi, the man of the tent, secretly advised Kongming as they prepared for the full withdrawal. “Having come all this way into the southern frontier and achieved such hard-won merits, to leave none of Shu’s officials stationed here—is this not akin to cutting grass and waiting for rain?”

“No.”

Zhuge Liang shook his head.

“In that matter, there is one advantage but three distinct disadvantages. First: minor officials would distort the virtue of royal governance. Second: administrative duties—being far removed from the royal capital—would be neglected, allowing private authority to run rampant. Third: should hidden crimes of mutual slaughter persist among the Nanman people after the war, they would harbor suspicions and risk sparking internal conflicts.” “Moreover, rather than having royal officials impose governance from above, nothing surpasses letting the original Nanman kings and people maintain their close bonds. If we simply ensure they uphold the basic rites of tribute, Chengdu need not expend effort or resources—we can preserve this land as both a bulwark for the state and a fertile region of production.”

“The Prime Minister’s words are the supreme strategy.” Everyone complied with his words.

When the Shu army heard they were returning north, both the cave tribes of Nanman and the common people vied with one another to send gifts of gold, pearls, precious treasures, cinnabar, lacquer, medicinal herbs, spices, plow oxen, animal hides, warhorses, and more to the encampment—and furthermore, “From now on, year after year, we will never fail to offer tribute to the Son of Heaven.” “We will not rebel.”

Thus, all of them swore oaths.

And someday, when they called Kongming, they reverently chanted “Benevolent Father Prime Minister” and “Grand Patriarch Kongming,” promptly erecting living shrines (shrines to a living deity) throughout the regions of his battlefields and never ceasing their offerings and worship through the four seasons.

At that time in Shu, it was the third year of Jianxing, the ninth month of autumn. Zhuge Liang 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 pennants arrayed before and behind them. The procession—tribute wagons, cavalry units, white elephant contingents, and dozens of infantry regiments—formed a spectacle surpassing even the grandeur of their southward campaign. Adding to this magnificence, Meng Huo, King of Nanman, joined the retinue with his entire clan in tow, while various cave masters and tribal chieftains brought drum teams and formed lines of beauties to escort them all the way to the banks of the Lu River.

Along with the thirty thousand burned alive at Pan Snake Valley, many allies had been lost and enemy soldiers slain here at Lu River as well. That night, Zhuge Liang floated a boat midstream, wrote prayers to all heavenly realms, chanted invocations to myriad spirits, dedicated them to the souls of those fallen in battle to pray for their peaceful repose, then set them adrift on the river currents along with offerings. Having heard of an ancient custom where three living people were drowned as sacrifices whenever this river turned violent and brought calamity, Zhuge Liang mixed flour with meat to mold human head shapes, using these as ritual substitutes that night.

The inherited method conventionally named “mantou” originated from the sacrifices at Lu River—there exists a legend that Kongming was its first deviser—but who can say for certain? In any case, even on the return journey, he never ceased to pursue—even in his dreams—the taking into account of each land’s local customs and religious psychology, the spreading of virtue, and the soothing of emotions. This stood in stark contrast to the mere martial authority of a barbarian-subduing general.

With waves calm and the voice of prayer stirring the emotions of the three armies—even making the unfeeling Nanman people weep—his forces returned to Yongchang Commandery.

“You all have endured a long and arduous ordeal. In due time, rewards shall be decreed by the Emperor.” With this, he relieved Lü Kai of his duties as guide and assigned him and Wang Kang to guard the four nearby commanderies. Moreover, reluctant to part with Meng Huo—who had followed this far—he granted leave,

“Devote yourself wholeheartedly to governance, encourage the residents in their agricultural work, manage your household well, and ensure your later years remain honorable.” Zhuge Liang earnestly repeated his admonitions.

Meng Huo tearfully returned south. “Likely, during his lifetime, the Nanman lands will not rebel again.” Zhuge Liang addressed those around him.

Chengdu was already in winter. The three armies returning from the south found even the cold wind nostalgic as they entered the Triumphal Arch.

Deer and the Wei Crown Prince

One Kongming returned; the Prime Minister returned.

The entire city of Chengdu erupted in jubilant cheers. On that day, Emperor Liu Shan was summoned to the imperial carriage and went out thirty *li* beyond the palace gates to welcome Zhuge Liang and the three armies.

As soon as he beheld Emperor Liu Shan’s phoenix-adorned carriage, Zhuge Liang leapt down from his chariot and bowed to the ground in prostration. “This is too great an honor,” he said. “This unworthy subject, lacking in talent, led a distant campaign yet failed to swiftly pacify it,” he continued, his forehead pressed against the earth. “Having caused the loss of many Imperial Forest troops and disturbed Your Majesty’s imperial heart, I humbly beg that my crimes be judged first.” “Nay, Prime Minister,” Emperor Liu Shan replied. “We are overjoyed merely to see your safe return.” Turning to his attendants, he commanded, “You there—help him up!” The emperor then ordered his retinue to assist Zhuge Liang to his feet and personally extended his hand, granting him a seat within the phoenix-adorned carriage.

The Young Emperor and Prime Minister Kongming sat side by side in the same carriage, their faces bathed in sunlight’s radiance. As they passed through Chengdu Palace’s Huayang Gate, the citizens’ cheers of joy reverberated to the heavens, while throughout the palace’s hundred towers and thousand pavilions, music swelled forth all at once—as though purple clouds had descended upon the golden city. Yet, Kongming had forgotten his own achievements. He commanded officials to seek out the descendants of those who had perished in battle or from illness during the campaign, ensuring none were overlooked in receiving comfort. In moments of respite, he visited rural villages he had long not seen, inquiring about that year’s harvests, meeting with village elders and diligent farmers, honoring filial sons, punishing corrupt officials, and rectifying underpayment of annual taxes—devoting himself to every aspect of governance. Thus, whether in cities or provinces, there was none among high or low who did not praise this land as having manifested upon earth the very image of a peaceful and prosperous realm.

×　　　　　×　　　　　×

The exceptional talent of Cao Rui, Crown Prince of Cao Pi, Emperor of Great Wei, had recently become the talk of Wei. The Crown Prince was still fifteen years old. His mother was a daughter of the Zhen clan. She was said to be a beauty capable of toppling kingdoms. Initially, she had become the wife of Yuan Shao’s second son, Yuan Xi, but after his defeat in battle, she entered Cao Pi’s household and later gave birth to Crown Prince Cao Rui. But even Cao Rui was shadowed by a measure of misfortune. This was because the favor his mother, Lady Zhen, had once enjoyed was finally fading, and his father Cao Pi’s affection was shifting to Consort Guo.

Consort Guo was the daughter of Guo Yong from Guangzong, and her beauty was said to be unmatched throughout the land of Wei. Since the world had praised her as the Queen Among Women, after being admitted into Wei Palace, she was respectfully addressed as "Queen Consort Guo." However, her character was not as beautiful as her appearance. To eliminate Empress Zhen, she conspired with a court official named Zhang Tao to inscribe Emperor Wei’s birthdate on a paulownia-wood doll, along with a curse stating the year and month it was buried in the earth, then deliberately discarded it where Cao Pi would find it.

Cao Pi was unable to perceive her deceit and ultimately deposed Empress Zhen. Now—Crown Prince Cao Rui had been raised by this Queen Consort Guo from childhood and had endured hardships, but his nature was exceedingly cheerful, not sniveling in the least. He possessed a genius-like brilliance, especially in archery and horsemanship.

In the early spring of that year.

Cao Pi went hunting with his ministers. He discovered a female deer, and Cao Pi's single arrow skillfully shot down its fleeing form.

When the mother deer was shot dead, the fawn leapt sideways in flight and hid, shrinking beneath the belly of Cao Rui’s horse. Cao Pi raised his voice and, “Cao Rui! Why don’t you shoot? No—why don’t you stab it with your sword? The fawn is right under your horse!”

He brandished his bow and gritted his teeth in frustration. Then, Cao Rui wiped his tears, “When Father shot the mother deer just now, my heart already ached—how could I kill her fawn too?” With that, he threw down his bow and burst into loud sobs. “Ah, this child shall become a sovereign of benevolent virtue.”

Instead, Cao Pi was pleased 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 young at a mere forty years of age.

II

By virtue of the affection shown during his lifetime and in accordance with his posthumous edict, Crown Prince Cao Rui was elevated to become the next Emperor of Great Wei.

This was in accordance with the pact of Jiafu Hall.

The Jiafu Hall Pact refers to when Cao Pi, critically ill, summoned three senior ministers to his bedside, “Though young, I believe my son Cao Rui, with his benevolent and heroic nature, is precisely the one to inherit Great Wei’s legacy. You all must unite your hearts to assist him and never act against my will.” Revering this posthumous edict, the three senior ministers also, “We solemnly swear never to act against your posthumous edict.” This refers to the event wherein they pledged their oath.

The senior ministers summoned to his bedside on that occasion were: General of the Central Army Cao Zhen.

General of the Stabilizing Army Chen Qun. General Who Pacifies the 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 could not be avoided in the lineup of Wei Palace courtiers and the positions held by clans. First, Zhong Yao was made Grand Tutor, Cao Zhen became Grand General, and Cao Xiu was appointed Grand Marshal. In addition to overlapping appointments such as Wang Lang as Minister Over the Masses, Chen Qun as Minister of Works, and Hua Xin as Grand Commandant, promotions in rank were carried out for numerous civil and military officials, and a general amnesty was proclaimed throughout the realm.

Herein lay one issue: Sima Yi Zhongda assumed the position of General of Agile Cavalry. It was not an unconventional appointment by any means, yet for him, it somehow seemed fitting. Not only that, but he, knowing at that time that there was no one to guard the provinces of Yong and Liang, personally presented a memorial and,

“I humbly request Your Majesty to appoint me as guardian of Xiliang Province,” he petitioned. Xiliang Province bordered the northern barbarians—a frontier so remote it defied comparison with the capital. This was a land where Ma Teng had once risen and Ma Chao emerged, ever prone to rebellions and resistant to governance.

To Sima Yi’s fervent wish to govern this region he had sought, the Emperor naturally granted his imperial approval, and among Wei’s senior ministers, none opposed it—they merely considered it an eccentric whim. Therefore, the imperial court specially adjusted his official position to,

The imperial court specially appointed him as “Commander of Military Forces for Xiliang Province and other regions” and bestowed the official seal and ribbon. “Whew… What a relief.” As Sima Yi Zhongda advanced his horse northward to his new post, he felt as though he had finally emerged from a cramped birdcage into the open sky after so long. Every breath he drew seemed vast and unconstrained. The strained relations among court attendants and senior ministers had persisted for ages. He had served at court since the Cao Cao era. By nature, his true disposition appeared ill-suited to dwell long within such confined waters.

Shu’s spies quickly learned of this personnel change and promptly reported it to Chengdu. None among the Shu officials gave it any thought.

“Ah… So Zhongda has been sent to Xiliang.” That remained the limit of their interest. Yet upon hearing this report, one man alone stiffened in shock and pressed his lips tight. That man was none other than Kongming.

But there was another who shared his alarm and immediately made his way to the Prime Minister’s residence.

It was the young Ma Su. "Your Excellency, have you heard?" "I learned of it yesterday." "Sima Yi—a man from Wen in Henei. His courtesy name is Zhongda. I have regarded him not merely as a figure of Wei, but as a hero of our age." "If any shall bring calamity upon Shu in days to come, it will surely be him. As for Cao Rui inheriting Wei's imperial throne—that merits no concern." "I share your dread. Zhongda's posting to Xiliang cannot be ignored."

“Should we eliminate him? Now is the time.” “No, Your Excellency. Not many days have passed since the Southern Campaign. This requires careful consideration. Please leave this matter to me. I will deceive Cao Rui without deploying troops and see Sima Yi brought to his end.” For one so young, it was a remarkably audacious declaration. Kongming gazed at Ma Su’s face.

Memorial on the Expedition

I

Ma Su said: “For some reason, this man Sima Yi Zhongda—despite possessing such talent and having long served Wei—has not been highly regarded there. I have heard he served under Cao Cao and was employed in the Library Bureau around the age of twenty. For a meritorious official who has served three generations—Cao Cao, Cao Pi, and Cao Rui—is his current position not far too desolate?” Kongming watched the speaker’s face with tranquil eyes. Having laid this groundwork, Ma Su presented a stratagem he had in mind to Kongming.

“No—Sima Yi himself petitioned for the appointment and assumed his post in Xiliang Province.” “Clearly, there lies in his heart a desire to distance himself from Wei’s central court.” “Naturally, Wei’s senior ministers surely find his actions unsettling and are already harboring suspicions.” “Therefore, if we spread rumors throughout the realm that Sima Yi Zhongda shows signs of rebellion and circulate forged manifestos to all regions, Wei’s court will immediately fall into disarray and will undoubtedly either execute him or strip his position to banish him to the frontier.”

What he advocated closely aligned with Kongming’s own deliberations. Kongming accepted his counsel and secretly implemented the strategy. This was what became known as a domestic rumor campaign against the enemy. They employed travelers and covert agents, moved from household to household among relatives, spread from woman to woman—every possible cell was utilized in this endeavor.

Meanwhile, they created forged edicts and dispatched them to the military houses of various provinces. As expected, just as rumors began circulating among the populace about Sima Yi, one copy of this proclamation fell into the hands of the officials guarding the gates of Luoyang and Yecheng, and it was immediately reported to the Wei imperial court. The proclamation’s text was filled with inflammatory rhetoric. It enumerated the crimes of Wei across three generations and incited all disaffected under heaven to overthrow the Wei dynasty. “Is this truly a proclamation written by Sima Yi’s own hand?”

Cao Rui, though pale and still seemingly uncertain, posed this inquiry at a secret council of his senior ministers. Grand Commandant Hua Xin prostrated and replied, “When Sima Yi previously requested to govern the lands of Xiliang, I wondered what his true intentions were. But through this matter, we subjects have come to perceive his designs—or so I humbly believe.”

“However，this emperor has no recollection of ever being rebelled against by Sima Yi.” “What grudge do you suppose he harbors that would drive him to draw his bow against Wei?” “That was something Emperor Wu，the Great Ancestor（posthumous title of Cao Cao），had discerned long ago and 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 such as organizing library documents，never entrusted with military affairs.” “To grant him military authority would contravene Emperor Wu’s profound conviction—nay，certainty—that such action would nurture a scourge upon the state.”

Wang Lang also expressed his personal view. "As Hua Xin has stated, Sima Yi—from his youth—has deeply studied military stratagems and mastered battlefield tactics while maintaining extreme caution. Even during the late emperor’s reign, he idled aimlessly in feigned ignorance. Now, upon observing Your Majesty’s ascension at such a tender age, he has at last revealed his hawk-like nature. Like a wolf, he issued a proclamation from Xiliang and plotted to realize ambitions nurtured for years." "If Your Majesty does not swiftly launch an expedition to crush this, it will inevitably become a wildfire that consumes the plains."

Cao Rui, King of Wei, was young, so even after listening to his ministers' counsel, he still wavered and could not reach a decision. In time, a member of the clan, Cao Zhen, “Surely such a thing could not be possible.” Due to Cao Zhen’s reasonable objection—“If they rashly launch an expedition and it proves unfounded, would that not needlessly sow discord between ruler and subject?”—the court ultimately settled on a proposal following the precedent of Emperor Gaozu of Han’s inspection tour to Yunmeng: the Wei Emperor himself would visit Anyi under the pretense of leisure, and when Sima Yi came forth to greet him, they would discreetly observe his demeanor. Should he display signs of rebellion, they would immediately bind and arrest him.

Before long, the imperial visit was realized. By public decree, Sima Yi Zhongda grandly mobilized tens of thousands of troops and horses from Xiliang and set out from his current position to welcome the Wei Emperor’s carriage in the land of Anyi.

Then, from somewhere in the crowd,

“Look out! Sima Yi is leading a hundred thousand troops to press in upon us!” At this clamor, the courtiers were thrown into turmoil, and the Wei Emperor turned pale—everywhere along the road became a crucible of panicked hearts and swirling rumors.

II Unaware of the unfolding plot, Sima Yi Zhongda entered Anyi Town leading tens of thousands of troops. Suddenly, with their iron armor clanking ominously, Cao Xiu’s army blocked their path, “You shall not pass!” they shouted in unison. Then Cao Xiu himself spurred his horse forward and roared: “Hear me, Zhongda! “Are you not one who received the late Emperor’s sacred edict, personally entrusted with my guardianship? “Why then do you scheme rebellion? “Take but one step beyond this line, and I’ll make you rue the day!”

Zhongda was astonished and protested loudly, declaring this was nothing but a Shu spy plot. Then he dismounted from his horse, discarded his sword, left his tens of thousands of troops outside the city walls, and went alone. "I shall explain the particulars directly to the Son of Heaven," he said as he followed Cao Xiu. When he reached the Wei Emperor's carriage, he prostrated himself on the ground and tearfully defended against these groundless accusations.

“When I sought governance over Xiliang, it was never out of personal ambition or self-interest. Considering that region’s strategic importance, it was solely to secretly prepare defenses against Shu.” “I humbly beg Your Majesty to observe this matter with calm discernment a while longer.” “I swear I will first conquer Shu, then destroy Wu, and thereby bring before Your Majesty the day when I repay the imperial grace bestowed across three generations.”

Cao Rui was moved by Sima Yi’s solemn demeanor, but Hua Xin, Wang Lang, and others remained unconvinced. Viewing him through eyes that judged “At any rate, he remains a hawk and wolf,” they resolved to keep Zhongda under guard while convening secret councils around the young emperor. Needless to say, Hua Xin and Wang Lang’s arguments dictated this outcome. Thus it was settled: “The root calamity lies in having granted Sima Yi command over troops.” “It spawns public conjecture and fuels such destabilizing crises.” “Pluck the talons from this hawk and cast him into the wilderness.” “This follows Emperor Wen of Han’s precedent with Zhou Bo.”

By imperial decree, Sima Yi Zhongda was stripped of his official positions and sent back to his hometown from that very place. And the Yongliang military forces he had left behind were taken over by Cao Xiu. This matter was swiftly reported to Chengdu by Shu’s spies. Zhuge Liang was by nature a man who seldom revealed his emotions, yet upon hearing this news, it is said he rejoiced without measure: “While Zhongda remained in Xiliang, I had resigned myself to being unable to act freely—but now, what cause for concern remains?”

He secluded himself in the Prime Minister’s residence, closing its gates and turning away visitors for several days. Even before the national crisis caused by Wei’s Five-Pronged Invasion, he had similarly closed these gates—but unlike that time, his figure was no longer seen daily by the pond in the rear garden. After days of divine contemplation, one night following ritual purification and bathing, he held up a candle to write a memorial for Later Ruler Liu Shan. The later-to-be-famous *Chu Shi Biao* (Memorial on the Expedition) was indeed completed at this time.

He now appeared to have firmly resolved to carry out the Northern Expedition. Each sentence and chapter had been written with his very lifeblood poured into them. This was no mere laboring over ornate phrases, but rather an attempt to articulate what might be called his wholehearted loyalty and strategies for governing the nation through the coming century. Within its text, he first expounded upon the royal virtues that the Later Ruler must uphold as emperor; analyzed the current state of the realm; described Shu's present circumstances; specifically named loyal ministers while earnestly urging that trust be placed in them; and reflected upon both his predestined bond with the Late Emperor Xuande and their shared affections. When his brush reached this point, upon the paper and ink could be seen traces of loyal tears—falling in torrents.

The memorial was a lengthy text. Your servant Liang humbly states: The Late Emperor had not yet completed half his founding enterprise when he departed this life midway. Now the realm is divided into three, and Yi Province lies exhausted. This is truly a critical moment of survival. Yet the ministers guarding within do not slacken in their duties, nor do loyal officers beyond neglect their lives—this assuredly stems from their bearing the Late Emperor’s exceptional favor and desiring to repay it to Your Majesty. You must indeed open wide your sacred ear to illuminate the Late Emperor’s virtuous legacy and broaden the resolve of devoted men. You must not thoughtlessly demean yourself nor cite pretexts to forsake righteousness, thereby blocking the path of loyal counsel——

At the very outset, wringing his loyal heart dry, he thus admonished the young emperor. III Furthermore, "The palace and the government form a single entity; promotions and punishments must be impartial, allowing no discrepancies. Should any commit villainy, violate laws, or perform loyal and virtuous deeds, they must be entrusted to the appropriate officials to determine their rewards or penalties. This will illuminate Your Majesty's fair and enlightened governance. You must not act with partiality, permitting internal and external affairs to diverge in their application of law." Having expounded upon the state's fundamental principles and enumerated capable personnel for governance,

Palace Attendants and Imperial Secretaries Guo Youzhi, Fei Yi, and Dong Yun are all virtuous, sincere, thoughtful, and loyal. It was for this reason that the Late Emperor selected them and bequeathed them to Your Majesty. In my humble opinion, if all palace matters—whether great or small—are first consulted with them before implementation, this will surely supplement deficiencies and yield broad benefits. General Shang Chong is virtuous and balanced in character and well-versed in military affairs. Having been tested in former times, the Late Emperor declared him capable. Therefore, by general consensus, Chong was promoted to Commander. In my humble opinion, if all matters within the camp—whether great or small—are first consulted with him, this will surely ensure orderly formations, harmonious relations, and appropriate assignments based on merit.

Cherishing virtuous ministers and distancing petty men—this was why the Former Han prospered; cherishing petty men and distancing virtuous men—this was why the Later Han declined. Whenever the Late Emperor discussed this matter with me, he never ceased to sigh and lament over Emperors Huan and Ling. Palace Attendants, Imperial Secretaries, Chief Clerks, and Military Advisors—all these are ministers of steadfast loyalty who would die for their principles. I implore Your Majesty to draw near them and place your trust in them. Thus may we count the days until the Han dynasty's glory is restored.

Zhuge Liang’s brush then turned to recounting how he and the Late Emperor Xuande had come to know one another. Was that brush dipped in blood or tears? As he wrote, even he could not suppress streams of hot tears—or so it seemed. “Your servant was originally a commoner in plain cloth, tilling fields in Nanyang, struggling only to preserve this unworthy life through chaotic times without seeking fame among lords. Yet the Late Emperor overlooked my lowly station and humbled himself thrice to visit my thatched hut, consulting me on matters of our age. “Moved by this grace, I pledged myself to serve him with utmost devotion. “Later encountering ruin while accepting command amidst defeat’s hour, I have dedicated my life through peril—twenty-one years have now passed since those days.”

The Late Emperor, knowing of my prudence, honored me by entrusting great affairs to this servant upon his demise. Since receiving this command, I have grieved day and night, fearing that failing to achieve results in this entrusted task would tarnish the Late Emperor's wisdom. Therefore, in the fifth month, I crossed the Lu River and advanced deep into barren lands. Now that the southern regions stand pacified and arms secured in full measure, I shall lead the three armies to stabilize the northern heartland. May I exhaust my limited abilities to expel nefarious forces, restore the Han dynasty, and humbly return us to the old capital. This constitutes why Your servant served the Late Emperor and fulfills my duty of loyalty to Your Majesty.

In this article, Zhuge Liang had clearly indicated the nation’s path forward. "And by its completion," he declared through his memorial document addressed to Liu Shan with ministerial formality, "I shall fulfill my duty as your servant and establish it as Shu’s grand ideal." "That is," he continued with structured precision typical of state documents, "the realization of two objectives: restoring the Han dynasty and returning to our ancestral capital." "To achieve this," he admonished with paternal gravity befitting his role as regent-strategist, "while we your servants will assuredly grind our bones in service—Your Majesty must likewise resolve to endure hardships and increasingly manifest Your Majesty’s imperial virtue." He poured into these words a fatherly devotion that blurred lines between statesman and surrogate parent.

As for deliberating on additions and omissions and offering loyal advice to the utmost, these are the responsibilities of Youzhi, Yi, and Yun. I beseech Your Majesty to entrust this humble servant with achieving success in suppressing rebels and restoring prosperity. Should I fail in this efficacy, then judge my crimes and report them to the Late Emperor's spirit. If words promoting virtue cease, hold Youzhi, Yi, and Yun accountable for their wisdom and expose their negligence. Your Majesty must further personally devise plans to seek virtuous paths, discern and adopt noble words, and earnestly pursue the Late Emperor's final edict. Overwhelmed by gratitude for the favor received, this servant must now take his distant leave. Facing the memorial, tears fell freely, leaving nothing more to be said.

The full text of the memorial ended here.

Perhaps the moment he laid down his brush, he closed his eyes for a considerable while in solemn reverence toward the late Emperor Xuande’s posthumous trust. And he likely renewed his vow once more. At that time, he was forty-seven years old, and it was the fifth year of Jianxing in Shu.

IV

Zhuge Liang exited the gate.

After emerging from his prolonged seclusion and attending court for the first time in ages, he immediately prostrated himself before the palace court and presented the Chu Shi Biao (Memorial on the Expedition).

Emperor Liu Shan looked at the memorial, “Fatherly Minister—it has been barely over a year since you pacified the southern regions and returned.” “For you to now embark on a military campaign even greater than before—no matter how one looks at it—is this not too much for your body?” “Fatherly Minister—you already approach fifty years of age. For the country’s sake, please take some leisure and nurture your health.” he said with heartfelt sincerity.

Zhuge Liang was moved to tears. “Your gracious words are deeply appreciated, but ever since this humble servant received the Late Emperor’s posthumous edict entrusting this solitary one with his final charge, my humble devotion has allowed me neither restful sleep nor true leisure—even when granted respite—until that duty is fulfilled. Though my body remains free of illness and my years have not yet reached fifty, if I neglect this task now, age will soon render me incapable of expressing even this meager loyalty, no matter how fervently I may wish it.” “I must not trouble Your Majesty’s sacred thoughts any further,” he said, offering nothing but reassurance before withdrawing for the time being.

However, not only did the Later Sovereign Liu Shan harbor concerns, but Zhuge Liang’s “decisive execution of the Northern Expedition”—proclaimed through the *Chu Shi Biao* (Memorial on the Expedition)—suddenly plunged Shu’s court into profound anxiety. For since its governance under the Late Emperor Xuande, this land of Shu Han had possessed far too brief a history as a nation-state. Moreover, after years of successive military campaigns, it still lacked the internal strength required to oppose the might of Wei and Wu.

The year before last, just the materials and personnel expended for the southern pacification campaign alone had, in truth, even led the domestic and financial officials to secretly— (This is unbearable. What will become of us?)

They had watched with bated breath as they weighed these concerns against the national treasury’s exhaustion. Fortunately, this had been offset by the expeditionary army’s great triumph and the influx of vast southern tributes—plow oxen, warhorses, gold and silver, rhinoceros horns—which reinvigorated national strength. Yet even this recovery had barely lasted eighteen months. “To speak of pursuing such an overreaching ambition as attacking Wei now,” declared Qiao Zhou, “is nothing short of recklessness.”

Such debates had stirred considerably within the Shu court. As this stemmed from Prime Minister Zhuge Liang’s unwavering resolve, none dared openly oppose the *Chu Shi Biao* (Memorial on the Expedition); however, “This army stands no chance of victory,” some declared, while others argued, “Though we might mobilize to repel an invasion if forced, Wei has just seen Cao Pi pass away and young Cao Rui ascend the throne—a time when they show no desire to provoke foreign conflicts. For us to initiate an expedition now defies all reason.”

Such pessimistic arguments surrounding Later Sovereign Liu Shan were quite prominent.

The foremost concern of those people was the shortage of military personnel and the securing of financial resources required to conduct the war. According to Shu’s household registers, when comparing the number of households among 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 population and roughly one-third of Wu’s resided within Shu’s borders. This made clear how Shu’s development and terrain—though advantageous for defense—tended to lag culturally; moreover, the number of its standing armored troops proved paltry in comparison to the two states of Wei and Wu that held the Central Plains. Moreover, the Later Sovereign Liu Shan had already reigned for four years and reached twenty-one years of age, yet none could call him a wise ruler. He lacked the great talent of his father Emperor Xuande and, above all else, had been raised without ever knowing hardship.

“You are not a Prime Minister who would be unaware of these conditions—what could possibly be your reasoning for undertaking such a grand military campaign now?” The people all submitted to Kongming, yet they still yearned to fathom his true intentions.

V

Those in the know knew.

This must have been Zhuge Liang’s true intent. However, when Grand Historian Qiao Zhou personally visited him one night—as if embodying the collective unease of Shu’s officials—and subtly sought to admonish him, Zhuge Liang’s exhortations were delivered with utmost sincerity. “Now is the time. There is no moment to strike at Northern Wei but now. Wei was originally blessed with Heaven’s bountiful lands—fertile soil and robust men and steeds. Since Cao Cao’s era, through three generations, they have finally coalesced into a great nation. If we do not crush them swiftly, not only will overthrowing them become utterly impossible—our Shu shall face naught but self-destruction.”

First, he expounded on celestial timing; then proceeded to address domestic preparedness, “It is true that our Shu remains small and weak.” “Among the Thirteen Provinces of the Realm, Shu fully holds only Yi Province—so in terms of territory, it cannot compare to Wei or Wu.” “Therefore, our troops are insufficient, and our military supplies pale before theirs—this is an unavoidable reality.” “But I beseech you to set your mind at ease.” “We do have some measure of preparedness.” He summoned the register and, for the first time, revealed the existence of a secret reserve force that he had not yet disclosed to anyone. It consisted of ronin units maintained with stipends in various locations beyond Shu’s borders since Jingzhou days, and foreign troops gathered from southern regions and other frontiers—forces Zhao Yun, Ma Zhong, and others had spent the past year drilling. These soldiers had been organized into five divisions—repeating crossbow units, explosive mine units, flying spear units, celestial cavalry units, and engineering units—all 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 humble advisor received the Late Emperor’s posthumous charge.” “Therefore, recognizing that the foundation of our strength lies foremost in agriculture, I established official posts such as the Grand Minister of Agriculture and Overseer of Agriculture, devoting myself to promoting agricultural production. As a result, despite years of military campaigns, the farmlands of Shu still retain ample surplus.” “Moreover, in addition to the land tax and household tax, I nationalized ‘salt’ and ‘iron’ several years ago.” “The natural salt and iron of our Shu are truly heaven-sent blessings.” “Through the state economy brought about by this, Shu has obtained the resources for the day it advances into the Central Plains.”

he earnestly recounted the painstaking efforts he had undertaken during that period. As one example of how meticulously he had prepared the nation’s economy through daily governance: he had women in Chengdu and rural villages hand-weave Shu brocade, and in recent years had particularly encouraged and expanded its production—exporting it not only to southern tribes and western tribes but also granting significant concessions to sell Shu brocade exclusively even to enemy states Wei and Wu, thereby securing vital materials in exchange and bringing a steady influx into Shu’s interior. This fact alone made the depth of his meticulous management abundantly clear.

Upon hearing such painstaking efforts, meticulous preparations, and exhaustive explanations, even Qiao Zhou—who had come to admonish him—could offer no rebuttal and had no choice but to depart. As a result, not only did the Shu court’s anxieties and opposition fall silent, but on the contrary, “If the Prime Minister has made such thorough preparations, then we will surely prevail.” “No, we will surely prevail,” they declared, as an air of excessive optimism had even begun to drift through the court—one that assumed the prosperous era of unification would effortlessly materialize, as if returning to the old capital of the Central Plains and restoring the Han dynasty’s former glory.

Little did they know—while others optimistically dreamed of victory through frivolous hopes, a grim resolve had been sworn in Zhuge Liang’s heart. He did not expect success in the slightest—he knew better than anyone the might of Wei. Precisely because of this, he believed that after his passing, there would be none to uphold Shu’s court—that without him, Shu itself would cease to exist. He thought only of this: that he must fulfill the posthumous charge received from the Late Emperor Xuande while life yet remained to him. He never spoke of it to others, but how profound must have been his desolation at Emperor Liu Shan’s scant resemblance to his father.

Moreover, Wei had abounded in talented individuals since Cao Cao's time and still did so even now. The state possessed no shortage of administrative geniuses and military titans. By contrast, Shu now lacked generals like Guan Yu and Zhang Fei, had a young emperor, and counted many mediocre court officials. These realities served to deepen the anguish in Kongming's heart all the more.

Moreover, he did not deem Shu’s grand ideal impossible. He did not dismiss Xuande’s posthumous decree as impossible. The *Chu Shi Biao* (Memorial on the Expedition), spanning over a thousand characters, contained not a single resentful phrase—not even one in passing. Nor could any hint of ulterior motive be detected beneath its words.

VI

The three armies’ preparations were complete. During this period, while there had been somewhat complex developments within Shu’s palace, externally, the preparations were conducted so swiftly and covertly that almost no information had yet leaked beyond their borders. In the third month of spring, on Bingyin Day, the order to depart was finally given. “I shall depart for the campaign.”

On the day that Kongming came to court for their final farewell, Emperor Liu Shan gazed at him with tears pooling in his eyes. “Fatherly Minister,” “Do take good care of yourself,” he entreated earnestly. Even as he looked upon Liu Shan’s form, the visage of the Late Emperor Xuande lingered unceasingly in Kongming’s mind. Behind the young emperor, he willed that presence—that enduring shadow of his father—to remain ever present. “Your Majesty need not trouble yourself with concern,” “Though Kongming may be absent for five years or ten, by Your Majesty’s side stand loyal retainers of abundant talent and capacity, ever ready to aid in matters both domestic and foreign…”

As he presented his memorial, Kongming shifted his gaze to the left and right of the throne. Indeed, his sole concern lay not in the campaign ahead but in the assistance and governance he would leave behind for Liu Shan.

For this reason, he made bold personnel changes over the past ten days with resolute determination.

He appointed the three senior ministers—Guo Youzhi, Dong Yun, and Fei Yi—as Palace Attendants and entrusted them with all governance within the palace. Furthermore, for command of the Imperial Forest Army, he appointed Shang Chong as Commander of the Imperial Guard and carefully charged him with defending the capital during his absence. Moreover, he delegated all duties of the Prime Minister’s Office—which would serve in his stead—to Zhang Yi by appointing him Chief Secretary. Du Qiong became Grandee Remonstrant; Du Wei and Yang Hong were made Ministers; Meng Guang and Lai Min were appointed Libationers; Yin Mo and Li Zhuan became Erudites; and Qiao Zhou was named Grand Historian. All others whom he judged competent and reliable through his discerning eye were assigned to both civil and military institutions, thereby fully securing the capital’s safety during his absence.

Now, as he surveyed those surrounding the Emperor with his calm eyes, to those assisting him— (I earnestly entrust this matter to you all—do not fail me.)

With heartfelt words, he bade his farewell. And when the day finally came for him to depart Chengdu, Emperor Liu Shan exited the palace gate and escorted him as far as the city gate.

The spring wind swept through the banners of the three armies. Before the Prime Minister’s residence, troops in gleaming iron armor stood arrayed in formation—their ranks flowing like a river—displaying the following order:

Front Supervisor Department, General Who Guards the North, and Concurrently Prime Minister’s Marshal Wei Yan Vanguard Commander and concurrently Governor of Fufeng Zhang Yi General of the Yamen and Vice General Wang Ping Rear Army Troop Commander Lü Yi Left Army Troop Commander Concurrently Managing Logistics Ma Dai Vice General Flying Guard General Liao Hua

Right Army Troop Commander and General Who Inspires Awe Ma Zhong

General Who Pacifies the Rong and Marquis of Guan Nei Zhang Ni Acting Central Army Commander and General of Chariots and Cavalry Liu Yan Central General and General Who Elevates Valor Deng Zhi Central Army Consultant and General Who Pacifies Distant Lands Ma Su

Front General and Marquis of Duting Yuan Lin Left General and Marquis of Gaoyang Wu Yi

Right General and Marquis of Xuandu Gao Xiang Rear General and Marquis of Anle Wu Ban

Chief Secretary and General Who Pacifies the Army Yang Yi

Front General and General Who Conquers the South Liu Ba

Front Protector Army and Vice General Xu Yun

Left Protector Army and Loyal and Trustworthy General of the Household Ding Xian Right Protector Army and Vice General Liu Min Rear Protector Army and General Who Revitalizes the Army Guan Yong Acting Army Consultant and General of Illustrious Martial Might Hu Ji

Acting Army Consultant and General of Admonishment Yan Yan Acting Army Consultant and Vice General Du Yi

General of the Household for Military Strategy Du Qi

Pacification Commandant Sheng Bo

Acting Army Consultant for Military Strategy Fan Qi

Military Secretary Fan Jian Prime Minister's Clerk Dong Jue Tent-Front Left Guard Envoy and General Who Soars Like a Dragon Guan Xing Right Guard Envoy and General of the Tiger’s Wing Zhang Bao Among these ranks, one indispensable general had been omitted. This was Zhao Yun Zilong of Changshan—a meritorious retainer since the days of Xuande.

Seven

On this day, the reason Zhao Yun’s heroic figure was absent from the expeditionary forces lay in these circumstances. The hero since Changban Bridge had finally grown old, his temples now streaked with white. Zhuge Liang, recalling how even during the Southern Campaign he had fought valiantly from start to finish despite his aged frame, had deliberately excluded him from the roster this time, intending to leave him behind in the capital.

However, Zhao Yun not only failed to appreciate this kindness but also—the moment he saw the roster announcement— “Why is my name not among these?” “Outrageous!”

...and came to the Prime Minister’s residence, where he confronted Zhuge Liang face-to-face and pressed his case. “It may be presumptuous for me to say this myself, but since the days of the Late Emperor, I—Zhao Zilong—have never retreated from battle nor failed to charge ahead of others when facing the enemy.” “Though I am old, I do not intend to lose to the youngsters these days.” “To be born a true man and die on the battlefield—there is no greater fortune for one’s life.” “Prime Minister—do you intend to let Zhao Yun’s final integrity rot away like a withered tree?”