Wang Yu and his entourage journeyed north, heading first to Lingwu Pass, the garrison of the Ding'an Army led by Feng Jing.
Although Lingwu Pass was situated in Qing'an Prefecture, it was actually closer to the Prince of Zhenxi's Manor than Jinfeng Pass, which lay in the same prefecture of Longshan. Burdened with tens of thousands of jin of meat, wine, and silver, they naturally made for whichever outpost was nearest.
"What a shame," Wang Yu sighed. "Not a single blind assassin, not even a highwayman."
Qianqian could not resist rolling her pretty eyes at him.
On this journey, they were escorted by five hundred battle-hardened soldiers guarding tens of thousands of taels of silver. Heavy bows and powerful crossbows were stowed aboard the wagons, and multiple skilled experts traveled incognito among the convoy.
If anyone were truly blind enough to block their path, that would have been a genuine marvel.
That was why she had looked upon Li Yunxiu with such disdain before. It was utter needless worrying—did the woman truly think Xiantian experts grew on trees?
Outside Lingwu Pass, Feng Jing was already quietly waiting.
Ordinary in features, ordinary in build, ordinary in bearing. At first glance, Feng Jing seemed nothing more than an entirely average middle-aged man; strip him of his armor, and most people would hardly take him for a soldier.
Yet it was precisely this soldier whom the late Prince of Zhenxi, Zhao Zheng, had judged as first among the commanders of the five armies.
Zhao Siqi possessed the greatest seniority, Peng Hu was ferociously brave in battle, Lu Yunzhou commanded remarkable cunning, and Yang Tianzhao was a master of unorthodox surprises—but when it came to steady, impenetrable command, Feng Jing had no equal.
Once Feng Jing ushered Wang Yu into Lingwu Pass and led him on an inspection of the camp, Wang Yu truly saw what that "steadiness" meant. Even with the insights he carried from the modern world, he could not find a single flaw.
Commands were executed without hesitation, prohibitions strictly observed, discipline was ironclad, and patrols and sentries left no opening whatsoever.
Wang Yu had originally toyed with airing a few opinions gleaned from his half-baked knowledge of The Art of War and A New Treatise on Disciplined Military Tactics, but it now appeared wholly unnecessary.
And so Wang Yu set about his official duties, assembling the soldiers in camp to deliver a short speech.
"I am your new Prince of Zhenxi!"
"You stand against the Mobei barbarians! You are heroes protecting the people of the Central Plains!"
"Heroes deserve respect!"
"Two jin of meat for every man! Two sheng of wine! And two taels of silver!"
"The more prosperous the Northwest becomes, the safer it is, and the more wealth we generate, the larger your rewards will be!"
"A two-day grand feast! Take turns on leave and duty—every man drinks until he cannot walk!"
"Long live the Prince!"
On the elevated platform, Feng Jing had intended to stand behind him, but Wang Yu pulled him to his side. Inwardly, Feng Jing was also quite pleased with Wang Yu; before delivering this speech, the young prince had gone over every word with him in advance, asking him to review it and ensure it would in no way disrupt military affairs.
"Though Your Highness is young, you truly understand military matters. This general is full of admiration!" Feng Jing offered politely.
"You are too kind! After all, warfare is a matter of vital importance to the state, a matter of life and death, the road to survival or ruin, and cannot be examined without care." Wang Yu raised his cup. "General Feng commands his troops with such solid composure; you are truly a renowned general of our age. It is enough if you do not mind me meddling in your army's affairs."
Feng Jing's eyes lit up. "Those are the very opening words of The Art of War! Your Highness truly understands warfare!"
This world bore great similarities to the world Wang Yu had crossed over from, yet there were differences. Aside from martial arts, which was the most obvious distinction, famous historical figures and events were ambiguous and half-familiar. At times, Wang Yu did not even know whether the famous quotes he cited existed in this realm or not.
And so Wang Yu began conversing with Feng Jing about strategy, military training, and the deployment of troops.
"Engage with the orthodox, triumph with the unorthodox."
"Make yourself invincible, and await the enemy's vulnerability."
"In drilling troops, the most vital thing is discipline, discipline, and discipline. On a battlefield of thousands and tens of thousands, if their movements are unified and their shouts resound as one, that momentum alone will intimidate the enemy and add three parts to your odds of victory."
"In warfare, what you truly contest is logistics. So long as you have grain and silver, you can suffer defeat after defeat yet fight on; a single decisive victory can completely overturn the board. But if your logistics run hollow, then even if you win ten times, a single loss will doom you beyond redemption."
"Teach soldiers what they are fighting for. They cannot simply be mercenaries eating rations and drawing pay; soldiers like that cannot fight when the wind blows against them. They must understand that fighting protects their families and will give them and their loved ones a better life—and of course, we must follow through on that promise afterward."
Though Wang Yu lagged far behind Feng Jing in practical military administration, he had been baptized by the modern internet; his grasp of modern military analysis and high-level strategic perspective was undeniably sharp.
Consequently, some of his detailed insights and macroscopic explanations earned Feng Jing's profound respect.
Regardless of whether Feng Jing had considered these ideas himself, the mere fact that Wang Yu understood them was proof enough that the new Prince of Zhenxi was a man of genuine substance.
At the banquet, aside from Zhao Yingjie and Qianqian, there were also three commandants and the central army colonel of the Ding'an Army. Listening to Wang Yu and Feng Jing converse, they all wore expressions of admiration.
Zhao Yingjie knew nothing whatsoever about military matters and felt as though he were listening to a heavenly scripture. He understood that fighting required money, but why one could keep losing and losing yet still emerge victorious in the end was completely beyond him.
Qianqian sat smiling by Wang Yu's side, never chiming in to cause trouble, quietly pouring him wine. From time to time, she directed deep, adoring glances at Wang Yu, as if trying to find a way into his heart.
"Many of Your Highness's words have never been spoken by the ancients. They have truly opened this general's eyes," Feng Jing said with sincere admiration. "Why doesn't Your Highness compile them into a book to pass down to future generations? It would shine alongside The Art of War through the ages!"
They didn't call Feng Jing a steady general for nothing—his flattery was utterly seamless!
"Because I know my own limits," Wang Yu laughed heartily. "I only have these few scattered, unsystematic thoughts, and I've practically exhausted them just now. If they prove helpful to General Feng, then all the better. If not, let's just treat it as idle chat."
Feng Jing set down his cup and said earnestly, "Your Highness is being modest. What Your Highness spoke of encompasses the entire realm in its grandest scope and plumbs the depths of human nature in its finer details. It has already transcended the bounds of ordinary military treatises. With slight refinement, it would become an inspired stratagem of war. If Your Highness permits, this general is willing to compile and organize it on your behalf."
Feng Jing was not exaggerating. Having read extensively and spent decades compiling his own military observations, his insights, though containing novel points, remained confined within the traditions of his predecessors; writing a book would have been little more than parroting old masters, which made it hardly worth writing at all.
Yet Wang Yu's words were genuinely thought-provoking. If they served as the framework, integrated with his own methods of troop governance and field command, he could indeed produce a groundbreaking new text distinct from all other treatises.
"As General Feng pleases," Wang Yu smiled, raising his cup in return. "Just do not speak of writing on my behalf again. How could the little I offered ever support an entire treatise? Any such book would be the fruit of your own painstaking labor, General Feng!"
The company raised their cups together.
...
They stayed at Lingwu Pass for two days. No Qiang raiders came to attack; on the contrary, quite a few Han and Qiang merchants traveled back and forth for trade, passing through the gates.
Of course, they were only permitted to pass through and not to linger, and all incoming and outgoing goods were strictly inspected. If substantial caches of weapons or ironware were discovered, the culprits were seized on the spot and delivered to the local authorities.
Leaving Lingwu Pass, they turned northwest, and within a day, they arrived at Jinfeng Pass.
The garrison commander at Jinfeng Pass was Yang Tianzhao. He was said to have a wild temperament, yet when Wang Yu first laid eyes on him, he struck Wang Yu as even more refined and scholarly than Lu Yunzhou.
Of course, once Wang Yu saw the welcome entertainment Yang Tianzhao had prepared for him, he realized just how wild the man truly was.
On the open ground in front of the main tent stood two Qiang soldiers.
Surrounding the clearing was a ring of troops watching them with cold detachment, mockery, or hatred.
A few tables were arranged before the entrance of the tent. Yang Tianzhao invited Wang Yu and his company to sit. "These two are Qiang scouts. They took the lives of several brothers from my Yangwei Army, and I captured them when I rode beyond the pass on patrol."
Seated to the side, Yang Tianzhao looked at the pair and gave a sinister sneer. "I presume you already know the rules. Between the two of you, one must die. As for the survivor, not only will I spare him, but I will also grant him passage out of the pass.
"The choice is now yours. If you band together like brothers and fight to the death against us, I will let you die together. If one of you is willing to slit his own throat, I will send the other beyond the pass.
"And naturally, if one of you kills the other, I will not only release him beyond the pass, but also grant him a horse and a pouch of salt."
Zhao Yingjie, seated nearby, twitched his mouth. "Good grief, General Yang is staging a cockfight!"
Yang Tianzhao cast a sidelong glance toward Wang Yu, only to find Wang Yu looking right back at him. "Are we just going to watch dryly like this?"
Yang Tianzhao froze, not quite understanding what Wang Yu meant.
"Where's the wine? Where's the food? Even if alcohol isn't permitted on ordinary days, you could at least serve a pot of tea and bring out some pastries and snacks, couldn't you?" Wang Yu tapped on the bare table before him.
Yang Tianzhao's face lit up at a visibly perceptible speed.
Without even bothering to order his subordinates, he ran into the main tent himself and emerged carrying a large teapot and a cloth bundle.
"No wine in the barracks, but there are plenty of refreshments!" Yang Tianzhao personally poured tea for Wang Yu, then pulled an assortment of pastries, dried fruits, and preserved jerky from the bundle.
"Thank you, General." Wang Yu accepted the tea.
"Your Highness honors me!" Yang Tianzhao smiled and sat back down beside him.
Yang Tianzhao waved his hand, and nearby soldiers tossed out two scimitars. The two Qiang captives each caught one.
"A Chai, forgive me! Mother is still waiting for me to return—I cannot die!"
"You think you're the only one with a mother? Don't I have one too? Rena and my daughter are counting on me!"
Each uttered a sentence that no one else understood. Then, eyes bloodshot, they clashed with their scimitars, every slash backed by their full strength, desperate to cut the other down with the very next blow.
Yet the surrounding soldiers kept a firm grip on their spears, relaxing their vigilance not in the least.
However, their caution proved unnecessary. The two Qiang men put on no theatrical farce, nor did they unite to charge the cordon. Instead, they hacked away at each other with all their might, sending sparks flying in every direction. While hardly a display of refined skill, it was intensely violent and thrilling, making for quite a spectacle.
The two hacked until they were wheezing and their strength faltered. In the end, one traded a wound to take the other's life, finally cutting his opponent down.
A Chai wrenched his scimitar from the dead man's neck. Catching the predatory gaze of the surrounding soldiers, he immediately tossed the scimitar to the ground, letting blood stream down his right arm. Panting heavily, he looked at Yang Tianzhao with mingled dread and anticipation. "I won! Let me go!"
"Don't worry. If I said I'd let you go, I will certainly let you go!" Yang Tianzhao gave an amused smile and waved his hand, having his men lead him away.
Zhao Yingjie could not help asking, "General, are you truly going to let him go?"
Yang Tianzhao did not answer, turning instead toward Wang Yu as though waiting for his response.
Wang Yu gave a cold scoff. "He's stained with our soldiers' blood, and he expects to leave unharmed?"
Yang Tianzhao asked with a grin, "But I just gave my word. A general commanding an army cannot break his promise."
Wang Yu nodded. "Which is why you only promised to let him out of the pass. As for whether someone else kills him once he's outside, that has nothing to do with you."
Yang Tianzhao immediately dropped to one knee, lowering his head and clasping his fists. "My respects to Your Highness!"
Chapter 27