Chapter 113: Summoning the Generals

The next day, Zhang Chi issued orders for all troops to assemble several miles north of Chengdu, preparing to hold a troop inspection. The five-day deadline had passed, yet the forces from Liangzhou had still not arrived. All other provincial troops were already assembled. After discussion, Zhang Chi and his commanders decided they could wait no longer. In matters of military urgency, even a half-day’s delay at dawn could mean the difference between early relief for Pingwu and prolonged entrapment. Zhang Chi understood well that in a siege, with scarce water inside the city and soldiers unable to rest day or night, the longer the defense held, the exponentially greater the challenge became.

Of course, the army must be dispatched. Yet Zhang Chi had previously declared before the Prince of Chengdu and the officials of Shu that all troops must gather within five days, and any delay in military affairs would be punishable by death. Still, he would not hastily arrest the governor of Liangzhou to demand an explanation. In times of national crisis, priorities must be clear.

However, he could not simply overlook the matter silently, for what of military authority then?

Early that morning, Zhang Chi first went to meet the Prince of Chengdu, who greeted him warmly with a radiant smile. As Zhang Chi prepared to bow, the prince hastily helped him up and said with a smile, “No need for formalities. We have already arranged the marriage between my daughter and you. Once you return victorious, we shall be family—there is no need for such ceremony.”

It was clear the Prince of Chengdu had firmly set his sights on Zhang Chi as his future son-in-law. Zhang Chi smiled wryly but still bowed deeply. “Manners must not be neglected. The Prince of Chengdu shall forever be the lord of Shu.”

Upon hearing this, the prince laughed heartily—who does not appreciate recognition of their status? Especially for a lord like him, who held prestige but lacked real power in Shu.

But after a brief laugh, he sighed, “This time, Shu is fortunate to have you, young lord, leading the resistance against the Hu invaders. If you succeed in expelling them and bringing peace to Shu, I am willing to share the wealth of this land with you.”

Though unspoken, the words hinted at a willingness to share rulership. Zhang Chi did not dwell on it. In these chaotic times, every regional power sought autonomy, though none wished to be the first to break ranks. It seemed the prince harbored similar ambitions.

Zhang Chi did not voice his thoughts but replied, “Today, I will review the troops north of Chengdu’s gates and formally set out. I came to bid you farewell.”

“Oh? Have all provincial troops arrived?” the prince inquired.

“All troops have assembled except those from Liangzhou. Not a single soldier has arrived from there.”

The prince fell silent. It was not that he did not wish to speak, but rather he did not know what to say.

Should he act according to military law? He hesitated. The governor of Liangzhou must have his own power base to dare such defiance. If they tore open their differences now, he could not predict who would end up under whose control.

“Actually,” the prince murmured after long contemplation, “you need not press too hard. Shu has been unstable these past years. Perhaps the governor of Liangzhou truly finds it difficult to muster his troops.”

From the prince’s expression, it was clear even he was not convinced by his own words.

Zhang Chi understood the prince’s hesitation and respectfully said, “Rest assured, Prince. With foreign invaders at the gate, we cannot afford infighting that benefits only the Hu. I will first inspect the troops, then march north to repel the invaders. Once they are driven back, we will deal with the governor of Liangzhou to uphold military authority.”

These words pleased the prince greatly. “You are a man of extraordinary talent and strategic vision. I wish you great success in commanding the army!”

Wine was brought forth; the prince raised his cup to Zhang Chi. “Please drink this to fortify your resolve.”

It was evident the Prince of Chengdu placed great hope on Zhang Chi’s campaign.

After bidding farewell, Zhang Chi departed the city. Several miles north of Chengdu, the amassed army numbered seventy to eighty thousand men.

Though nominally under Zhang Chi’s command, in truth the troops remained under their provincial generals, who did not necessarily heed his orders. The factions in Shu were complex; in a force assembled from disparate regions, mutual support in battle was uncertain. Some might fight to the death, others not. The greatest concern was the ongoing covert rivalries among provinces. Before leaving their home territories, these generals likely received instructions from their superiors: if the sky falls, let someone taller bear the burden. Preserve strength and let others exhaust themselves. Many local powers thought this way. But if all thought alike, how could they defeat a formidable enemy? Under such circumstances, even a large army might fail to unleash its true potential.

Fortunately, Zhang Chi still commanded eight thousand elite troops under Qin Bo, fifteen thousand remnants of the Five Pecks of Rice Dao under Han Xiang, five thousand newly trained soldiers brought by Du Ximing and Ding Yizhi from Jiankang, and another ten thousand newly recruited refugees. These were his direct forces; without them, even a genius like him would find the battle difficult.

He was unaware of the provincial generals in detail. The troops had gathered, and a reviewing stand had been erected outside the city, awaiting Zhang Chi’s arrival.

Upon entering the camp, before ascending the stand, Zhang Chi first saw the tavern girl and Miss Ruoshui.

They should have remained in the city mansion, but now they came to the camp for one clear purpose: to see him off.

At some unknown moment, the tavern girl’s heart had become tethered to Zhang Chi’s by an invisible thread. Now, as he prepared to lead soldiers against the formidable Hu cavalry, her heart ached with worry.

Though she had grown stronger since following Zhang Chi, her gentle nature remained unchanged. From afar, seeing him approach clad in a simple blue robe—the same attire as when they first met in Jiankang’s tavern—memories surged forth, bringing tears to her eyes.

When Zhang Chi arrived, the tavern girl was at a loss for words. Miss Ruoshui smiled and said, “Sister, do not cry. The young lord is a man of destiny, endowed with heavenly strategy. He is sure to achieve great feats; there is no need for worry.”

Miss Ruoshui, daughter of Du Zigong, had long recognized Zhang Chi’s heavenly mandate. As a Taoist, she believed deeply in such fate and was unafraid of the Hu’s fierce cavalry and powerful crossbows. In her eyes, whatever Zhang Chi set his mind to was bound to succeed.

Zhang Chi was not insensitive; he felt the tavern girl’s tender affection, yet having come from a later era, he found it strangely awkward to court ancient women. Though people say wine and passion sharpen the edge of a fine steed, and love often burdens beauty, Zhang Chi considered himself not overly sentimental—yet he had nonetheless caused beautiful women to suffer.

It was as the fortune teller Zhan Taiqi had once foretold outside Huainan city: “In spring’s bloom, flowers are ripe for picking; every blossom can be plucked, every branch planted.” Among those he met after crossing time, all were unparalleled beauties, yet even he could not say clearly to whom his heart belonged.

He was not a man who pursued every beauty he saw.

Miss Wang had done much for him, and mutual fondness existed, but only that—though after her death, Zhang Chi still remembered her deeply, it was not love.

The tavern girl he had rescued initially kept her distance, but after their trials in Kuaiji, her heart was fully his, though his feelings leaned more toward compassion than love.

Miss Ruoshui had shared an intimate moment with him in the sacred lands of the Five Pecks of Rice Dao out of necessity. Zhang Chi remembered it well, but an ineffable feeling lingered, and since then they tacitly avoided discussing it.

Now, seeing the tavern girl’s boundless affection, Zhang Chi wished to comfort her but feared she might misunderstand his intentions.

Even a man of destiny could feel helpless at times.

He sighed softly and said, “The camp is a place for military affairs. Why have you come here? You should return quickly.”

With that, Zhang Chi turned and ascended the reviewing stand, unwilling to look back at the tavern girl and Miss Ruoshui.

Ding Yizhi, Du Ximing, and others awaited him on the platform. Seeing him arrive, they handed over the roster of officers. Zhang Chi began calling names. Each summoned general stepped forward to declare their province and the number of troops they commanded.

When he reached Zhao Qian, Zhang Chi called loudly, and a silver-armored man stepped forward, announcing in a clear voice: “I am Zhao Qian, commander of Badong Commandery, leading five thousand troops. Standing ready before the general’s tent.”

Zhang Chi froze.

He remembered this man. Zhao Qian had been with Dark Blade in the mountains outside Yong’an city in Badong. Later, when the branch headquarters was destroyed, Zhao had been one of the commanders.

Though Zhang Chi remembered him, Zhao did not recognize Zhang Chi now. When Zhang Chi had arrived by river to Badong, he wore the tattered clothes of a refugee. Now clad as a scholar in blue, he was unrecognizable. Moreover, Zhao had been too flustered during the rescue to take note of Zhang Chi’s face.

Seeing Zhang Chi silent, Zhao repeated, “I am Zhao Qian, descendant of the famed Zhao Yun of Shu Han, commander in Badong with five thousand troops. I stand ready before the general’s command.”

Zhang Chi finally recovered, “You are a descendant of Zhao Yun?”

Hearing his ancestor’s name directly from Zhang Chi, Zhao felt displeased, but since Zhang Chi was the commander, he replied respectfully, “Indeed.”

“Are you also skilled in training troops?” Zhang Chi asked, though he already knew the answer from his time at the branch headquarters.

Zhao was modest. “I have only dabbled in my ancestor’s methods, far from mastery—merely the surface.”

Afraid his humility might be mistaken for weakness, he added, “Though I command only five thousand, they are well-trained and able to fight as if one hundred. Facing the Hu, I am loyal and earnestly ask the commander to trust me.”

Zhao had always trained troops in Badong but never led them in battle. Ambitious, he had sought favor among the powerful to earn a chance to prove his military talent.

His expertise in troop training was exceptional, and he seemed eager to win glory. Zhang Chi thought he might be very useful—though if Dark Blade saw him, it would be greatly unfortunate.

The campaign was about to begin.