Chapter 390: Dusk at Yuhuatai

Lu Xiangjin stood frozen on the spot: "Elder brother... what do you mean by this?"

Lu Xiangsheng let out a long sigh, offering no explanation, and simply gave his orders: "Leave one thousand troops at Guanling; the rest of the soldiers are to assemble at Hangzhou. We march north to reinforce Nanjing."

"Yes." Lu Xiangjin withdrew to relay the orders.

Lu Xiangsheng returned to his quarters, took up his brush, and wrote a memorial to the court, requesting that the Denglai naval forces be transferred south. In the memorial, he repeatedly assured that as long as the navy helped transport troops, they would never be asked to fight.

At the end of the memorial, he wrote: "Your minister swears with his very blood that the Denglai naval forces shall serve only for transport back and forth, and shall never advance to meet the enemy or lightly brave the arrow's point.

Once the entire army has crossed, they shall be sent back to their original posts at once—not a single day's delay, not a single coin wasted.

Your minister, bound by the nation's deep grace, swears to repay it with death. Now the crisis is urgent beyond measure, with not a hair's breadth to spare. I humbly beg Your Sacred Majesty to grant swift approval, so that troops may be gathered early and the bandit menace swiftly swept away. Your minister weeps blood with a shattered heart, frantic with worry and at a loss, kowtowing again and again in reverence."

On the north bank of the Yangtze, beneath the walls of Yangzhou, more than ten thousand elite Tianxiong Army troops were still stationed. Lu Xiangsheng only sought to have the Denglai navy ferry this force across to Jiangnan. Every additional unit that reached the front line meant one more measure of hope for victory.

Several days later, before reinforcements arrived, the imperial decree urging battle came first. Accompanying the decree was the eunuch supervisor Gao Qiqian, sent by Chongzhen. The practice of eunuchs supervising armies had been a deep-rooted evil of the Ming dynasty, and so at the start of Chongzhen's reign, he had abolished the system.

But when the war situation collapsed afterward, Emperor Chongzhen, feeling that both civil and military officials harbored private motives and none could be trusted, gradually restored it.

Especially after Zhu Xieyuan and Fu Zonglong successively defected to the enemy, Chongzhen's suspicion of the court's civil and military officials reached its peak. Supervising eunuchs had long been dispatched to the Nine Border Garrisons, and supervisors for Hong Chengchou and Lu Xiangsheng had also arrived one after another.

Gao Qiqian was one of the earliest supervising eunuchs Chongzhen had appointed. In his early years on the northwestern front, supervising Hong Chengchou's army, he had repeatedly killed innocent civilians and claimed their heads as enemy kills, fabricating a record of glorious military merit.

It happened that at that time Hong Chengchou and Cao Wenzhao were driving the peasant rebels back in defeat after defeat, and from then on Gao Qiqian's reputation as one who understood warfare was firmly established, earning him deep trust from Chongzhen. Upon learning that Nanjing was besieged, Chongzhen sent the most capable and most militarily knowledgeable eunuch at his side to supervise the army.

The moment he laid eyes on Lu Xiangsheng, Gao Qiqian said in a sneering, sarcastic tone: "Nanjing has been under siege for a long time, yet Your Excellency sits alone in Hangzhou—how leisurely." Lu Xiangsheng replied: "Marching troops and concentrating forces take time."

Lu Xiangsheng was a man of unwavering integrity who despised these eunuchs from the bottom of his heart. Though his words showed no disrespect, his tone and demeanor revealed his disgust completely. Gao Qiqian burned with anger inwardly but smiled a false smile: "His Majesty's decree is for Your Excellency to advance immediately. Is Your Excellency defying the imperial order?" Lu Xiangsheng flicked his sleeve and simply left without answering.

Gao Qiqian was furious. On one hand, he ordered the local authorities to refuse supplying grain to the Tianxiong Army; on the other, he wrote a secret memorial to Chongzhen, filing a report to impeach Lu Xiangsheng. By regulation, supervising eunuchs only held the power of oversight and could not interfere in local administrative affairs—but a supervising eunuch's report could reach the emperor's ears directly.

And the Emperor was notoriously cold and ungrateful, suspicious of all outside officials. When a supervising eunuch gave an order, no local official dared disobey.

The Tianxiong Army's grain and pay were quickly cut off. Five thousand Tianxiong soldiers soon ate through their remaining provisions and could only march to Nanjing on empty stomachs.

Lu Xiangsheng could not obtain reinforcements, and instead the court pressed him to give battle immediately. Decree after decree ordering him to lift the siege of Nanjing came down.

Feeling deeply helpless, he steeled himself for certain death and led his weary troops out to battle.

Besides the five thousand Tianxiong soldiers, Lu Xiangsheng commanded more than eight thousand elite Zhejiang troops he had personally selected—a total force of thirteen thousand, lacking everything: grain, pay, gunpowder, and horses.

The army set out from Hangzhou, passed through Huzhou, crossed Yixing, then went through Liyang and Lishui, arriving at the upper reaches of the Qinhuai River.

Lu Xiangsheng knew this was the only official road north to Nanjing, and the Xia army would surely guard it. He therefore marched with great caution, sending scouts fifty li ahead to search both banks of the Qinhuai.

Reconnaissance revealed that the Xia army's main force was stationed around Mount Niushou and Mount Jiangjun, about twenty li from Nanjing, on the west bank of the Qinhuai River.

The official road to Nanjing ran through the gap between the mountains and the river—the only route Lu Xiangsheng could take.

Lu Xiangsheng thus encamped at Mount Fang on the east bank of the Qinhuai, facing off against the Xia army across the river.

Because this campaign was launched in haste, Lu Xiangsheng left his younger brother Lu Xiangjin in the rear to assemble troops and escort supplies. Gao Qiqian, fearing the enemy and avoiding battle, also remained with the rear forces.

Not long after Lu Xiangjin's troops set out, the Great Xia First Cavalry Brigade stationed in Taizhou, commanded by Zhang Moye, bypassed Guanling and drove straight in via Chuzhou and Jinhua.

Along the way, the prefectures and counties had been drained of troops and dared not resist, letting the four thousand cavalry and infantry race straight toward Nanjing.

The Ming and Xia forces faced each other across the Qinhuai for several days, with neither side making the first move.

At dawn, atop Mount Jiangjun, Lei Sanxiang raised the telescope newly made by Fo Zhi and gazed toward Mount Fang, some twenty li away.

He could see two rings of trenches spreading around the mountain's base, with antler barricades and cheval de frise outside the ditches as dense as brambles.

Lu Xiangsheng's main camp covered more than a thousand mu, with an outer perimeter of seven or eight li patrolled by scout riders, and sentry posts reaching ten li out.

Behind the camp walls, a watchtower stood every hundred paces. Only a few scattered sentries moved along the walls. Figures inside the camp were hidden behind canvas screens, and even cooking smoke only rose in unison at mealtimes before falling silent once more.

He squinted and counted for half a quarter-hour, unable to determine the total troop strength, nor to spot where the artillery positions were or where the reserves were hidden.

The entire rear half of the camp used the technique of sheltering behind the mountain, with the forest on the hillside blocking the view—not a single crack of weakness exposed, not the slightest intention to sally forth. Lei Sanxiang put away the telescope and cursed: "Damn motherfucker! Is this surnamed Lu some kind of turtle? He's got some nerve staying so calm."

At present, the Great Xia had already laid an inescapable net across Mount Niushou and Mount Jiangjun. The riverbank looked undefended, but in truth the Seventh Division's divisional artillery regiment was already positioned on the slopes of both mountains.

The artillery regiment numbered sixteen hundred men, equipped with one hundred and forty-four cannons—everything from six-pounders to twenty-four-pounders, plus mortars—and had its own dedicated ammunition battalion. Its firepower was extremely formidable. At the foot of the mountains, the five thousand soldiers of the Old First Battalion were also stationed, able to form echeloned fire.

Additionally, Lei Sanxiang had two more cards up his sleeve: Luo Dagu's bird boats at the mouth of the Yangtze, and the First Cavalry Brigade that Zhang Moye was leading north. Whether in numbers, firepower, or terrain advantage, the New Army held the upper hand.

As long as Lu Xiangsheng dared to cross the river, Lei Sanxiang was confident he could completely rout him within two hours.

But Lu Xiangsheng had stayed put since arriving at Mount Fang, leaving Lei Sanxiang scratching his head in frustration.

Calculating the time, Zhang Moye's cavalry riding north was probably still around Yanzhou Prefecture, not yet past the provincial border. The Great Xia could be said to be waiting for reinforcements to encircle the enemy—but what was Lu Xiangsheng waiting for? For death?

Lei Sanxiang couldn't figure it out and asked his staff officer: "What the hell has Turtle Lu been doing these past few days?"

"Scouring the countryside for civilian boats."

The Qinhuai was a major river. Even in the dry season, it was over twenty zhang wide and nearly one zhang deep—boats were necessary to cross.

Moreover, the Tianxiong soldiers were all northerners, unskilled in water combat. Their need for many boats was all the more reasonable.

Lei Sanxiang scratched his head: "Nothing else?"

The staff officer shook his head, then said: "Lu Xiangsheng's dispatch riders are expert horsemen and archers. Our scouts are no match for them—it's very hard to cross the river to reconnoiter." Lei Sanxiang cursed again, then said: "Send word to Li Jingshuo—hold nothing back. Take Yuhuatai today, and before dark, put our cannons into Nanjing city!"

"Yes!" the staff officer acknowledged.

Moments later, a messenger on horseback galloped northeast. After riding twenty li, he found Li Jingshuo and delivered the order.

Li Jingshuo clasped his hands in salute: "This officer accepts the command."

He had once been a squad leader of a scout banner company in the First Battalion of the First Division—the man who captured Prince Huai during the Jiangxi campaign and routed King Chanping. Later, promoted for merit, he was transferred to the Seventh Division and now held the post of colonel and regimental commander.

For this great battle, he was tasked with commanding three infantry battalions plus one artillery battalion—more than twenty-five hundred men and thirty-six cannons—in a feint against Nanjing. Upon receiving the order, Li Jingshuo immediately turned to make his arrangements: "All troops prepare for battle! The artillery battalion will turn its guns on Yuhuatai. In two hours, we launch the general assault!" On Yuhuatai, only the fifty-year-old Duke of Wei, Xu Hongji, and five hundred second-rate troops stood guard.

On the day the Xia army landed, Xu Hongji had conferred with the Minister of War and the Nanjing Garrison Commander over defense arrangements.

All agreed that the outer city was too large to hold with the available defenders and should be abandoned.

But when the discussion turned to whether Yuhuatai should be defended, disagreement broke out.

Yuhuatai lay in the outer city, barely two li from the southern city gate, rising over thirty zhang high—a strategic point. If it fell, the enemy could mount cannons on the hill and bombard the city gate from above.

Therefore, Xu Hongji and the Minister of War both believed Yuhuatai must be held. But Wang Yunzhong, the Nanjing Garrison Commander, adamantly refused on the grounds that the city's troops were insufficient. In the heated argument, Xu Hongji, past fifty, roared: "If Yuhuatai is not held, the southern city is lost! Even if I stand alone, I will defend Yuhuatai to the death!" Xu Hongji was the tenth-generation descendant of Xu Da, Prince of Zhongshan, and the leader of Nanjing's nobility. Though he held no substantive office at the time, he enjoyed great prestige in both the military and officialdom. The Nanjing Garrison Commander, afraid that Xu Hongji might truly die outside the walls and make himself the target of universal condemnation, finally relented and transferred five hundred defenders to Yuhuatai. Since taking up his post at Yuhuatai, Xu Hongji had established three defensive lines on the hill, dug extensive deep trenches and sharpened-stake fortifications, forging the entire mountain into an iron bucket. He had written his deathbed letter, prepared his coffin, dismissed his household servants, and brought his clan's retainers and young men to the battlefield with him.

The five hundred Ming troops sent to defend Yuhuatai had originally been demoralized and trembling with fear. Seeing Xu Hongji—of ducal rank—personally at the front line, sharing life and death with the soldiers, they were deeply moved.

Moreover, since the Xia army had landed more than half a month earlier without ever attacking the hill, morale rose even higher.

So when word came that the Xia army at the foot of the mountain was moving frequently, the troops were not particularly alarmed.

It was now nearly dusk. Beneath the commander's banner atop the mountain, Xu Hongji stood in heavy armor, gripping a long sword. Over thirty cannons were arrayed in three rows across the flat ground south of the mountain, muzzles aimed at the mountainside, their bronze barrels glowing red in the dying sunlight.

Artillerymen scurried back and forth around them—some calculating firing distances with paper, brush, and abacus, others loading powder and shot in precise, orderly motions. Two thousand Xia soldiers stood in strict formation, all in dark crow-blue tunics, armed with flintlock long muskets, their ranks perfectly aligned, every soldier motionless. Even at a glance, a killing aura rushed forth.

A few dozen paces ahead of the cannon array, engineers were swinging shovels, filling ditches and clearing obstacles with great speed.

The skirmishers Xu Hongji had sent to the foot of the mountain to delay the enemy had already clashed with the Xia vanguard scouts; sporadic gunfire drifted from the woods from time to time.

His eldest son, Xu Yinjue, glanced at the sky and saw that nightfall was not far off. "The Xia army is far too arrogant, attacking the mountain at this hour. We only need to hold for an hour or two."

Xu Hongji made no reply. Instead, he declared loudly to the clansmen at his side: "Gentlemen, behind us lies Nanjing city, lies the Ancestral Tomb of the Grand Ancestor. We cannot retreat a single step!

Our Xu family has received the nation's grace for over two hundred years. Even if we die in battle today, we will not yield half an inch of Yuhuatai to the enemy!"

The Xu clansmen answered with a thunderous shout that shook the forest and mountain.

The very next moment, on the artillery position, a flash of orange flame flickered, the cannons lurched violently backward, and dust burst into the air all around, thick smoke rising on every side.

A sharp whistling tore through the sky as shells streaked overhead. Moments later, thunderous booms erupted all around as thirty-odd shells slammed into the ground, shaking the earth violently. Over a dozen pine trees were snapped clean through in one go, as if a skylight had been punched into the Ming position on Yuhuatai.

A Ming soldier took a direct hit—half his body instantly turned to pulp, blood and flesh splattering across the pine needles and drenching several Xu clansmen.

The look of death-defying resolve in their eyes sobered considerably in an instant.

Before the smoke had even cleared from the Xia position, another rumbling barrage of cannon fire sounded.

Xu Hongji heard a sharp shriek—*swoosh*—followed by the sound of bones snapping and sinews tearing beside his ear. A wave of hot, rank liquid splashed across half his body. He turned woodenly to see a distant kinsman of the Xu family with a hole the size of a cartwheel blown through his chest, half his body gone. The man didn't even let out a whimper before he toppled over, dead.

Blood dripped down Xu Hongji's grizzled beard.

"F-father... father, father..." Xu Yinjue's legs went weak, and he couldn't even form a complete sentence. "W-we... should... r-retreat... retreat..." "Nonsense!" Xu Hongji roared, forcing down the terror in his heart. "Our ancestor, the Prince of Zhongshan—what an incomparable hero he was! How can a descendant of the Xu family disgrace his glorious name!"

Nanjing had known peace for so long that the last time gunfire had been heard was when Lin Qian bombarded the city from the river.

As for facing the enemy in battle, this was the first time in their lives for the defenders.

Even Xu Hongji was the same—he was a hereditary military noble, and in his youth he had overseen river defense, but this was his first time on a real battlefield.

Five more volleys of cannon fire came in quick succession, killing or wounding over twenty Ming soldiers. The entire army was on the verge of collapse.

Shouts of killing and gunfire now came from the mountainside, mixed with the screams of Ming troops.

Xu Yinjue's face was deathly pale, his legs trembling violently. In a choked voice he said, "F-father... Father! Father..."

"Silence!" Xu Hongji barked.

Not far away, figures flickered among the trees, then a row of gunsmoke rose, the crack of gunfire and the whistle of lead balls arriving almost simultaneously.

Over ten Ming soldiers were struck—one had his skull blown off by a single shot, another had his shoulder shattered, still another took a ball to the chest that blew a gruesome hole through his back, flesh and blood spraying everywhere.

The wounded collapsed to the ground, wailing and screaming. Those lucky enough to survive were scared out of their wits, throwing away helmets and armor as they fled toward the rear.

To hold Yuhuatai, Xu Hongji had selected over a hundred fine bird-gun muskets from the city, along with two Folangji breech-loading cannons, plus countless gunpowder and shot. Now it had all come to nothing—the Ming troops atop the mountain hadn't fired a single shot before routing to the rear.

Xu Hongji's eyes nearly split with rage as he bellowed: "Any man who retreats before the enemy will be executed!"

But the Ming soldiers treated his words as wind past their ears. Some even ran past Xu Hongji while weeping, preferring to collide with the commander's banner than take a single extra step.

"Surrender and you won't be killed..." someone called out faintly through the pines and gunsmoke.

Then came another volley of gunfire.

"Crack! Crack! Crack!"

The Ming soldiers who fled too slowly fell in rows like wheat being scythed down, blood mist spreading through the air.

The survivors howled and screamed as if possessed, sprinting away at full tilt. Soon, not a single man remained on the battle line.

The Xu clansmen's morale plummeted as well; some joined the rout.

Xu Yinjue listened to the gunfire drawing ever closer, watched the bursts of blood mist erupting around him, and was so terrified that snot and tears smeared his face while yellow fluid streamed down his trouser leg. Nearly on his knees, he tugged at his father's sleeve and begged: "Father! If we don't leave now... if we don't leave now... it'll be too late, Father! Let's go!" "Bullshit!" Xu Hongji flew into a rage and kicked his son to the ground. "How did the Xu family produce a piece of trash like you?" With that, he drew his blade and charged forward, hacking at several fleeing soldiers. But he was old and weak, and his swordwork was crude—most soldiers easily dodged, and those he did cut suffered only light wounds. Instead, a routed soldier ran straight into him and knocked him to the ground.

Xu Hongji sat on the ground, gasping for breath. He looked at the wild-goose-feather waist saber in his hand and let out a frustrated sigh: "Alas!"

He tossed the blade aside, looked around, spotted the Folangji cannon, and hurried over. Just as he was searching everywhere for fire, he suddenly heard someone shout: "The commander's banner has fallen! The commander's banner has fallen!"

"Run for your lives!"

Xu Hongji was utterly bewildered—he was still alive, so how could the banner have fallen?

He hastily turned to look and saw the great Xu banner lying on the ground, its fabric completely undamaged, no corpses around it. The Xu clansman who had carried it had already fled. "Father, come back! Waaah, Father!" Xu Yinjue wailed from twenty paces away, collapsed on the ground in tears.

Xu Hongji's heart ached, and in an instant, tears streamed down his aged face.

He thought of how the Prince of Zhongshan, Xu Da, had once swept the world clean, pursued the fleeing and hunted the routed, recovered the Sixteen Prefectures of Yanyun—his founding achievements unmatched by any other. What glorious renown that was! Yet two hundred years later, his descendants could not wield a blade, could not carry a spear, and lacked even the courage to die and preserve their honor.

"How did it come to this? How did it come to this?" Xu Hongji gazed at the backs of soldiers fleeing across the mountain, weeping blood to the heavens. "Heaven! Why have you let my Xu family lose so completely, so disgracefully!"

A sharp whistle—*swoosh*—came from far to near as a lead ball streaked through the air.

The next moment, Xu Hongji was struck in the back of the head. His entire face burst apart, teeth flying, brains splattering everywhere, and he toppled backward into the mud.

Twenty paces away, Xu Yinjue watched his father being killed with his own eyes. His wailing stopped abruptly, like a chicken with its neck squeezed, paralyzed with terror. He didn't pause for even a moment—he spun around and sprinted down the other side of the mountain, yellow fluid streaming endlessly down his trouser leg.

With Xu Hongji dead, the few Xu clansmen still putting up scattered resistance all fled or surrendered. The battle ended at once. Over two hundred Ming soldiers surrendered, over a hundred were killed, and the rest vanished without a trace.

When Li Jingshuo ascended Yuhuatai, dusk had just arrived. The sky was a mournful red, the sunset breathtakingly beautiful.

Strictly following Lei Sanxiang's instructions, he moved the brigade's artillery battalion up the mountain and, before the sun had set, opened a furious bombardment on the Jubao Gate of Nanjing city. Nanjing's walls were extremely sturdy—especially Jubao Gate on the south side, which had three layers of inner barbicans and four arched gateways, the most complex barbican system in all of Jiangnan, nearly invincible against cold-weapon-era attacks.

But in the age of firearms, Jubao Gate was the perfect target for the new army's cannons.

Amid the thunder of artillery, Xu Yinjue ran seven or eight li in one breath, looping around in a wide arc until he reached Wuding Gate, where he called for the guards to lower a basket and haul him back up into the city.

Xu Yinjue was helped back to his residence. The Nanjing Minister of War and the Nanjing Garrison Commander came to call on him—with the enemy bombarding the city, the two were extremely anxious and had come to learn the enemy's true strength.

To cover up his own disgrace and the Xu family's disastrous defeat, Xu Yinjue wildly exaggerated the Xia army's fighting power, blowing them up to be something beyond mortal men. He also inflated the number of soldiers outside the city, stretching the two thousand-odd Xia troops into a full ten thousand.

The Minister and the Garrison Commander knew nothing of military affairs and accepted Xu Yinjue's words wholesale. After hearing him out, they were about to write memorials requesting reinforcements.

Xu Yinjue called the two men back and rambled on at length—about the glory of his father's death in battle, reminiscing about Xu Da's martial prowess of old, and declaring that as the eldest son of the family, he would carry on his late father's will, and so on and so forth.

It all sounded like nonsense, but it really came down to one thing: he wanted to inherit the hereditary title, and he wanted the two men to memorialize the court on his behalf.

The Minister and the Garrison Commander perfunctorily agreed, and only then did Xu Yinjue let them leave.

That night, a fresh round of pleas for reinforcements went out from Nanjing in every direction.

At the Fangshan military camp, Lu Xiangsheng finished reading the letter requesting reinforcements, set it down on the table, and let out a long sigh.

Lined up on the table beside it were nine imperial edicts, all sent from the capital urging him to march out to battle, their wording dripping with sarcasm and venom. Standing nearby, Liang Fu, the Regional Commander of the Tianxiong Army, wanted to speak up in counsel but did not know what to say, only managing: "Even a clever housewife cannot cook without rice! With provisions running short and the soldiers hungry and exhausted, the court only presses us to advance... This driving us to battle is plainly forcing Your Excellency to march straight into a death trap." Lu Xiangsheng said: "Silence! The sovereign's command is weighty as a mountain—how dare you bandy words of right and wrong within a military tent!"

The tent fell silent for a moment, then Lu Xiangsheng asked: "Where has the rear army advanced to?"

"Just reached the area around Jingting Mountain! That dog-eunuch surnamed Gao fears the enemy and shirks battle, deliberately slowing the army's march!"

Lu Xiangsheng asked again: "How many boats have been prepared?"

"We have gathered three hundred fishing boats, plus five hundred bamboo rafts built by the army, and over ten thousand sandbags—enough to ferry us across the Qinhuai River." Lu Xiangsheng pondered for a long while, then said: "At the first watch of the Tiger hour tomorrow, the entire army crosses the river!"

Liang Fu was startled: "Are we not waiting for the rear army?"

"This operation is a surprise assault to lift the siege—we don't need too many troops. Besides, the ruse of secretly crossing won't fool the enemy for long. This is exactly the moment to strike, while the Xia army at Yuhuatai is flushed with fresh victory, their soldiers arrogant and their defenses lax!"

Lu Xiangsheng turned back to gaze at the map, his eyes fixed hard on Yuhuatai.

Great Xia, in order to block the official road heading north to Nanjing, had spread its siege forces and its blocking forces too far apart.

His plan for this battle was to pin down the Xia army at Niushou Mountain from the front, while leading his elite troops north across the river, and—before the Niushou Mountain Xia forces could turn back in time—annihilate the several thousand Xia troops at Yuhuatai.

In this way, the siege of Nanjing would be somewhat relieved, the Xia army's strength would be weakened, and he would have something to show the court. Even if he could not decide the fate of the realm in a single battle, at least he could drag out the stalemate.

After all, the Xia army had come across the sea to attack; by accumulating such small victories, he could drag things out until their provisions ran out and they withdrew on their own.

This was the only good strategy Lu Xiangsheng could devise in his desperate straits.

Liang Fu acknowledged the order and went down to relay the command.

Lu Xiangsheng remained brooding over the map, sitting alone in vigil until the sky outside the tent began to grow faintly light.

Liang Fu walked into the tent and, seeing Lu Xiangsheng sitting there fully clothed, was taken aback: "Your Excellency, have you not slept all night?"

Lu Xiangsheng gave a bitter smile without answering, and asked in return: "Are the soldiers ready?"

"The five thousand Tianxiong troops are fully prepared, but... the rebel army sent an envoy requesting to see Your Excellency in person. I have already blocked him outside the camp." Lu Xiangsheng immediately said: "When did this happen?"

"Just now."

Lu Xiangsheng said: "Invite him in at once, and have the soldiers return to their barracks to sleep."

A moment later, Huang Jian, an envoy from Great Xia's Ministry of Foreign Affairs, entered the camp. As he walked, he cast sidelong glances around the barracks, but saw only sparse sentries and listless soldiers. When Lu Xiangsheng had wiped out Chen Ping'an's Leveling Army, he had used this very same ruse of feigned arrogance.

The soldiers had rehearsed once, and their acting was now excellent—those talking in their sleep, grinding their teeth, and passing gas were everywhere, and snoring could be heard from within the tents. Huang Jian looked up at the sky, estimating it was already about the second ke of the Rabbit hour; for men still not to be up at this hour was truly the height of laziness.

It seemed the General Staff's assessment was correct—this so-called Tianxiong Army was nothing but Ming troops in name only.

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen