Chapter 408: White Robe Sits at the Prow

The interior hall of the riverboat was as vast as a palace.

The hall was divided into upper and lower sections, marked by a staircase. At the center of the upper hall stood a long table, upon which lay a large map, depicting mountains, rivers, cities, fortresses, fords, and islets, all marked in red and ink.

The Prince of Badong sat alone in casual attire, while Li Li Li Jingxuan and the other strategists stood around the table, all clad in light armor.

Wang Yang stood at the center, dressed in a white brocade robe, pointing at the map and issuing orders. On either side stood six small tables, each attended by a clerk who scribbled furiously, transcribing military orders, verifying accuracy, then affixing the official seal.

Below the staircase, a line of military officers stood in formation, heads bowed, awaiting orders. Each held his breath so lightly that in the vast hall, only Wang Yang's voice could be heard:

"...... Zhang Guo's unit advances first: eighty light vessels to enter Shayang Isle.

Li Tao leads three thousand troops, advancing alongside the river with the navy, clearing the riverbanks, reaching Dragon Cave Isle's eastern shore within two days.

Withdraw garrisons from Yongkou; transfer twenty-one large ships from the Western Defense Camp to transport troops, rendezvousing with Zhang Guo's unit at Shayang to jointly block the river crossing.

He He Nanqing, Yang Fu, and Zhou Meng head for Yangkou; He He Nanqing's unit leads. Upon entering Yangkou, form units of ten ships each, spaced three zhang apart, to avoid shallows.

Yang Fu provides right flank support and prepares for northern defense.

Zhou Meng's main force raises banners behind them to project strength.

He He Nanqing selects a elite small team to lie in ambush among the reeds north of Yangkou, waiting for enemy scout boats—strike when opportunity arises......"

Each time Wang Yang named an officer, a general stepped forward to receive the order. Each order was copied thrice: one given to the commander, one filed, one copied into the military register.

After receiving the order, each general bowed with clasped fists, eyes straight ahead. In moments, eight generals had stepped out, and eleven orders had been issued.

"...... The vanguard units shall follow drum signals: one drum for advance, two for halt, three for assembly. Ensure not a single enemy trace remains south of the riverbank!

If small raiders approach from the south, pursue them immediately;

Should enemy reinforcements arrive in force, all units shall fall back in sequence to Shayang Isle, form battle lines, and await orders.

The main force shall not engage until fully assembled.

Whoever advances prematurely—even if victorious—shall be executed."

Wang Yang paused, lifting his gaze to scan the officers.

"Understood?"

The officers responded in unison, the entire hall falling silent.

Wang Yang swept his right sleeve, and the generals who had received orders bowed and withdrew.

Beyond the hall, the deep cabin echoed faintly. After exiting the door, not a single officer dared speak; only the soft clink of armor and the steady tread of boots faded slowly down the corridor.

The strategists, witnessing this authority, felt deep envy. Originally, the Prince had left the military secretary's authority vague, and all had assumed it a hollow title. Yet Wang Yang had turned this empty post into absolute power—truly the deputy commander, even more formidable than a deputy commander.

After all, a deputy commander only issues orders when the commander is absent. Yet the Prince was still present, and Wang Yang was already acting in his stead, his commands as unyielding as mountains.

It was no wonder Wang Yang seized power—it was only fair to blame themselves for lacking his talent. He commanded the army as if it were his own limbs, orchestrated strategy from afar, and crushed enemies thousands of li away. At first, the others had debated endlessly, but soon realized none could match Wang Yang's decisive, pinpoint efficiency.

The Prince of Badong had not granted Wang Yang authority at first, but eventually found him too indispensable.

Orders flowed smoothly, actions took shape instantly, battles were won, conquests secured, advances pushed forward with unstoppable momentum—yet he moved with perfect steadiness, his planning thorough, never reckless. Li Li Li Jingxuan spent nights poring over his plans and found not a single flaw, privately admitting, "This man's military genius surpasses even the ancient great generals."

The Prince also consulted trusted frontline generals, who were awed by Wang Yang's strategy, calling it unfathomable, a genius of the realm, worthy of comparison to Zhuge Zhuge Zhuge Liang and Lu Xun. The Prince delegated minor matters to him, then entrusted major ones, until all troop movements and naval deployments originated from his hand.

As the campaign pushed deeper into Yingzhou, battles multiplied and the situation grew more urgent; military timing could not afford delay, so the Prince placed full command in Wang Yang's hands.

Though granted command authority, it was still only to act on the Prince's behalf—not true military power. Fundamentally, he remained a strategist.

For an ordinary man, even the best strategy would still be merely borrowing the Prince's authority, masking his own will under the Prince's orders, remaining merely a Muliao. But Wang Yang excelled at seizing power: even when managing conscription, he had dominated the entire city. Now, commanding the army, as Chen Chen Qiming had warned the Prince in a letter urging him to revoke Wang Yang's delegated authority: "This is outrageous!!!"

As Chen Chen Qiming said, Wang Yang quickly transformed "delegated orders" into "primary orders." His decisions were swift, his commands always effective, his judgments decisive, his allocations precise and thorough. Li Li Li Jingxuan suddenly realized: from the moment Wang Yang assumed the military secretary role, he had been preparing for this day—building authority, inspecting military essentials, and meticulously attending to every detail of camp life—all to prepare for commanding the army.

(Chapter 397, "Appointment": "Wang Yang also exploited this opportunity to openly expand the military secretary's jurisdiction and establish its authority... reviewing records, inspecting the armory, entering and exiting military offices, auditing supplies—all inquiries were framed as 'for conscription and troop deployment,' and no one could refuse.")

Military affairs were inherently complex and required coordination. After tasting the ease of victory, the Prince gladly offloaded everything to Wang Yang: "If there's trouble, find Zhiyan! Zhiyan can handle it!"

The officers first followed his title, then respected his position, and finally obeyed him as a person.

In the army, all knew: Wang Yang's order was as good as the Prince's—none dared disobey.

After capturing Balin, the troops sang this ditty: "The Langye Young Master's skill is high, / In white robes he sits at the prow. / The river wind lifts his brocade hem, / A thousand sails break the enemy's nest in one night!"

(Previous map)

Selected from Tan Tan Qixiang's *Historical Atlas of China*, Volume Four. The yellow box marks the departure point of the Jingzhou army; the red box marks Xiaokou in Yingzhou. Note the course of the Yangtze River. Blue

(Continuing from previous map: blue lines indicate the advance route; the emoji-like figure between Zhouling and Shayang marks the direction of the Jing army's vanguard. Master Tan's map omits many rivers. For instance, locations mentioned in Wang Yang's orders are absent. I wanted to add them, but the map is too small. Especially the tributaries—hmm, should I redraw it? No, too late. Let me just describe the positions clearly. Shayang Isle lies west of Shayang, in the center of the river. North of it lies Dragon Cave Isle. Yongkou is directly south across from Shayang. North of Yongkou is Yangkou, where a narrow stream flows from Zhouling, joins Yangkou, and empties into the Yangtze. This stream was then called Gangshui—the very waterway Wang Yang warned about for its shallows.)

Yet despite this, the Prince of Badong maintained vigilance over Wang Yang.

First, Wang Yang's authority to issue orders was limited to the Prince's presence.

If urgent military matters arose and the Prince was absent, Wang Yang's orders had to be submitted to the Prince for review, stamped with the Prince's seal, before being issued—even at midnight. Thus, Wang Yang's quarters were placed adjacent to the Prince's bedroom, facilitating both consultation and surveillance.

Yes, surveillance.

The greater Wang Yang's power, the tighter the Prince's watch. It had now escalated to six elite Wang Fu bodyguards, "personally protecting" him.

Of course, officially, this was an honor, a safeguard against assassins. Previously in Jingzhou, the Prince had assigned Wang Yang a guard unit "at his command," but Wang Yang had requested it himself, and surveillance had been lax—no shadowing, no eavesdropping. Now, that unit was recalled, replaced by six unfamiliar men, all silent, eyes sharp as hawks.

Even when Wang Yang slept, they stood guard outside his door, rotating shifts—first to prevent secret collusion with officers, second to block external communication.

Yet there was genuine intent to protect him too; no one wanted the Northern Expedition to succeed, only for Kongming to be assassinated.

Additionally, the Prince secretly summoned strategists to review Wang Yang's orders—but from start to finish, found no irregularities. This was one reason the Prince allowed Wang Yang to build his authority. You can't expect the horse to run without feeding it.

As long as safeguards were in place, letting Wang Yang enjoy the thrill of command, flex his authority, was harmless. Let him exhaust his wisdom and loyalty in securing the Prince's realm. After all, his life and death were firmly in the Prince's hands—once the task was done, seizing back his power would be but a single word.

Yet despite this, the Prince of Badong had grown increasingly displeased with Wang Yang.

First, his attire.

Wang Yang wore casual robes, never armor. The Prince had not minded—indeed, he found it pleasing. He never intended to grant Wang Yang real military power; the lack of armor made him appear idle, more like a civilian strategist. He had even praised Wang Yang for looking composed without armor, subtly signaling he wished him to remain so.

But later, he sensed something wrong.

Everyone else wore armor—only Wang Yang did not. Standing together, he seemed like the moon among stars! Without armor, he appeared even more unapproachable, more commanding!

Especially after he began commanding the army directly, his casual robes made him tower above all armored generals—as if every armored officer were his subordinate! Even the Prince himself!

To outsiders, it looked as if Wang Yang were the Prince, and the Prince his general!

Precisely because of this, the Prince removed his armor and began wearing casual robes like Wang Yang.

The Prince never spoke of this psychological unease to anyone. He wondered if he was overthinking it—but a thousand years later, a certain Vice President Li, before his inauguration, received a secret imperial edict from Chiang to wear military uniform. Li arrived in uniform, only to find Chiang dressed in a long robe and mandarin jacket (Chapter 63 of *Memoirs of Li Ren*). Li, in his military attire, stood behind Chiang like a personal aide. His inner resentment was obvious. Had the Prince known this, he would have felt profound kinship.

If attire was a minor irritation, Wang Yang's arrogance was a major one.

Previously, when issuing orders, Wang Yang still feigned to ask for approval. Now, he gave orders outright—without asking! Do you even recognize me as your Prince?

Of course, he himself had told Wang Yang not to ask—after all, consulting for every order was tedious. If there was an issue, Li Li Li Jingxuan and the others would speak up; if not, he wouldn't interfere. And to show trust and favor, he had declared: "Zhiyan, decide for yourself—I will never oppose you!"

It was merely a boastful, flattering remark made in excitement—but Wang Yang took it literally and acted entirely on his own!

The Prince had specifically told Wang Yang: if any order sounded especially majestic, he should inform him in advance, so the Prince could issue it himself. After all, Wang Yang's orders were so thrilling—phrases like "advance alongside the river, clear the banks," "lie in wait for enemy scout boats and strike when opportunity arises," "ensure not a single enemy trace remains south of the riverbank!" and "anyone who advances prematurely—even if victorious—shall be executed!"—they were so powerful, so glorious!

If such orders came from the Prince's own mouth, how magnificent they would sound! How splendid they would appear in history!

But what did Wang Yang do?

He gave him only one!

That was during the battle at Sanjiangkou: "The vanguard presses straight into the river's center—advance at the sight of banners, never look back!"

And then nothing more!

(Previous map)

Sanjiangkou is where Dongting Lake meets the Yangtze, also called Xijiangkou, northwest of Balin. That emoji-like figure? To avoid blocking the waterway, I placed it above the river.

The Prince, embarrassed, brought it up again—only for Wang Yang to reply, "In the heat of battle, decisions cannot be pre-reported."

Hmph.

He's treating me like a child.

You, Wang Zhiyan, plan meticulously, calculate with divine precision. If you truly wished to craft words for me, how many could you not produce?

You care only for your own glory, utterly disregarding my dignity!

You fear I'll steal the spotlight from your generalship!