Chapter 878: Just a Slight Move

The north wind whipped up yellow sand, darkening the sky—this was the winter of Liangzhou.

The earth trembled without cause, stirring up plumes of dust, stones quivering slightly. People felt a sudden unease; cattle and sheep grew agitated. Until they saw, suddenly appearing in the distance, dark shapes swept within the yellow sand—now every tremor, every unease, every agitation had its source.

They appeared suddenly, yet as if they had always been there.

The distant cavalry formation stretched endlessly, clad in black mysterious iron fish-scale armor, their faces covered by demonic masks. Only their eyes were exposed; even the backs of their hands were armored in leather embedded with iron—fully equipped.

The panicked people finally understood why: someone had come to attack them.

Many had never witnessed this scene, but they had all heard of it—only that one cavalry unit, whose reputation struck terror into the grasslands, could fight this way: a devil of the steppe, reaping lives.

They scrambled to flee, hastily organized resistance.

Then the devils came, and every man who dared raise a weapon against them was dead.

Liao Hua dismounted; beneath his warm cotton-padded robe and fur lining, the cold iron armor made him look especially martial. One hand rested on his sword hilt as he strode into the tribe's finest courtyard.

Inside the courtyard, seven or eight last able-bodied men clutched weapons, fighting desperately; behind them cowered terrified women and children. The men's faces burned with fury, cursing the devils before them who had stolen everything.

Unlike their usual arrogance, when they wielded whips and struck others, they were now weak.

Liao Hua listened quietly to a few curses, then lightly raised his hand and waved forward.

Instantly, the clatter of armor plates rang out as his men advanced with long spears, standard thrusts—four-meter-long cavalry spears far outreaching the barbarians' weapons, forming a tight formation. More than ten spears thrust together; the barbarian warriors and chieftains had no chance to resist—each bore at least two spear wounds.

Nor did they spare the women and children—every one was cleanly stabbed to death. These women might have been innocent, abducted—but it didn't matter. If the men resisted, the women and children had no right to live; Liao Hua had no patience to distinguish the innocent. Too many innocent souls died in this world…

"Count the cattle, sheep, and horses. Keep only what our troops need to eat; the rest, distribute to the civilians. Announce our governance policies."

With this instruction, Liao Hua entered the chieftain's home to rest.

Outside, soldiers bustled—his adjutant directed operations, arranging meals and all other matters, but most importantly, sending men to scare out those hiding and proclaim the policies. This was a mature pattern, one they had practiced for years.

Seeing the barbarian civilians in disbelief from afar, the cook slaughtering horses laughed: "They were never meant for comfort."

"We were the same once," chuckled another kitchen helper. His face bore slight differences—he was an earlier-conquered Wuhuan.

"All thanks to the General's mercy toward us…"

People always did this—marveled at how good life was now, how hard it had been before, sighed over past suffering, then praised the General's virtues.

This was the trait of a generation.

When these people grew old, they would tell their descendants of past hardships, marvel at how good life was now, speak of their struggles, their wars, urge the young to endure hardship—they always lived in the past.

History must not be forgotten; we've only eaten our fill for a few years—but we must not live in the past. The Yangtze's waves push forward, new generations replace the old. To follow the tide of progress while keeping our original heart—that is the right path.

Soldiers laughed and chattered as they worked—this was the only relief in their dull lives. Every winter campaign claimed hundreds of deaths; no one knew when they would die. Discipline was strict: no looting, no rape, and alcohol was only given in one skinskinful at departure—meant for warmth. They usually drank a sip before battle to invigorate their blood; otherwise, they never touched it.

So they could only ease their monotony by talking.

Busy and bustling, they cooked a hearty meal with their seasonings—all meat. Soldiers devoured it, drank warm meat broth, rested briefly, filled their canteens with hot water, and marched into the night, heading toward darkness, waiting for dawn.

Liao Hua was no longer the naive boy who once carried the General's weapons and grinned, single-mindedly focused on charging into battle to slay the enemy. He was now the General's elite cavalry Captain, commanding the most formidable light cavalry unit—a general who had led for nine years, marched two thousand li into the grasslands, and whose name alone silenced barbarian children's night cries.

The Elite Cavalry's strength was immense: scattered, they were stars across the sky; united, they were a single blazing fire. When dispersed, each company of five hundred under a company commander could split into twelve units, covering three hundred li while maintaining contact—when one was threatened, multiple units rushed to aid. When united, they were invincible, unstoppable.

Under Liao Hua's command, the Elite Cavalry surged forward, breaking from Anding into Hanyang, and within ten days, turned Hanyang upside down. Then they turned westward, striking Jincheng with lightning speed, boldly besieging it. Jin Chengjun had a city called Jincheng (Lanzhou), where Han Sui was stationed.

By the time Han Sui gathered his troops, Liao Hua had already plunged deep into Jin Chengjun territory, luring Han Sui's army, hunting down isolated detachments, inflicting steady casualties—five hundred today, three hundred tomorrow, adding up to a terrifying total.

More importantly, the Elite Cavalry's survivability surpassed all other units—they operated deep behind enemy lines, living off the land. Han Sui's mobilization, however, consumed resources. Liao Hua could raid; Han Sui could raid too, but dared not raid recklessly. Liao Hua's supplies were Han Sui's losses.

This Mobile Corps Commander warfare drained not only Han Sui's soldiers, but their morale, and their very war potential.

Of course, Han Sui was never the only target. To Wang Yan, Han Sui was a minor player. Even if Liangzhou had grown more prosperous, that didn't mean Han Sui had grown stronger. He hadn't even secured the decade-long stability he once had, nor could he now resist Cao Cao as he once might have.

Wang Yan's target was all of Liangzhou—besides Han Sui, there were the Xiongnu, Xianbei, Qiang, and Hu tribes. Han Sui led, yet these tribes, chased by Liao Hua, dared follow? Who gave them the nerve?

Liao Hua fought Han Sui for over a month, his campaign spanning Jincheng, Wu Wei, Hanyang, and Longxi—regions not only holding Han Sui's troops, but those of other tribes. Because they were preparing to fight Lü Bu and Zhang Liao, they had already begun gathering forces for winter—all of them were beaten by Liao Hua.

After this month, Liao Hua did not halt. He led his troops into Wu Wei, pushing deeper. Since they had concentrated their main force, their rear was naturally weak. Only major tribal chieftains went to the front; minor tribes delegated command. And since no battle had yet begun, many tribes had moved their troops but not their leaders.

So, taking advantage of this vulnerable rear, Liao Hua struck down the high-ranking leaders left behind. Without leadership, how could they govern? How could they fight?

The term "barbarian" carried Han Chinese contempt—viewing outsiders as uncivilized, ignorant of propriety, shameless. Undeniably, in ancient times, this was true.

Yet conversely, Han Chinese were civilized, knew propriety, had shame—yet still oppressed and exploited the people, violating human ethics. Barbarians practiced brother succeeding brother, son succeeding father—some Han Chinese did the same, no difference.

Only because Han Chinese were powerful, held discourse control, possessed the authority to define others. Call them barbarians, and they must accept it, and yearn for Shenzhou. This was military superiority, cultural superiority. Undeniably, this was excellent for the Han Chinese—invincible strength forged from countless foreign bones…

Regardless, the barbarians' social structure and environment left their individual qualities severely lacking—they lacked unified collective consciousness. Once their powerful tribal leadership vanished, they became scattered sand—until a strongman arose to reunite them.

But now, no such strongman could emerge.

Han Sui had finally developed the same ailment as Yuan Shao—furious, he kicked over his table, chest heaving, veins bulging on neck and forehead, temples throbbing, eyes bulging, bloodshot, as if about to hemorrhage and drop dead.

"Wang Yan truly has skill."

Watching Watching Cheng Gongying sat silently, saying nothing.

They had loudly gathered their armies, preparing to drive out Lü Bu and Zhang Liao come spring, perhaps even advance into Bingzhou. But Wang Yan? He sent less than seven thousand troops—and made them run like dogs, utterly routed.

To avoid further losses, they had to accept attrition—but even so, they could not catch Liao Hua. Yes, not because they couldn't defeat him, but because they couldn't catch him. Even with their larger forces and local knowledge, they could not encircle him. Otherwise, even the Elite Cavalry's prowess would be crushed under tenfold odds.

They dared not fully focus on Liao Hua, for while they fought him, Lü Bu had marched into Hanyang, only two hundred li from Jincheng. If they committed fully to encircling Liao Hua, Lü Bu and Zhang Liao would strike Jincheng directly—and Zhao Yun and others had already arrived, thinning their defenses.

Precisely because they couldn't catch him, Liao Hua's raids shattered Han Sui's newly formed alliance, extinguished their ambition, and ruined all their plans.

After long silence, Watching Watching Cheng Gongying finally spoke to comfort: "Lord, our mass mobilization could not be hidden—Wang Yan must have learned our movements, hence sent Liao Hua with the Elite Cavalry to destroy our strength, preventing us from gathering a large army. Now our strength is broken; assembling a great army is impossible. Spring's attack on Lü Bu is out of the question. Lü Bu, instead, advances into Hanyang, threatening Jincheng.

Moreover, Wang Yan has dispatched his generals Zhao Yun, Tai Shi Ci, and others to lead here, with Guo Jia in command. We have no chance of victory, nor even of holding out. Lord, our power is exhausted—we are defeated without fighting.

Observing Wang Yan's actions, he may not swiftly seize Liangzhou, but within three to five years, Liangzhou will fall. We cannot hold Jincheng; Wang Yan's generals are all deployed—we are certain to lose. Now, Lord, you must decide quickly: flee westward, or submit to Yuan Shao. To the west, we control our fate. To Yuan Shao, we become his vassals.

The sooner you decide, the more strength we preserve. Whether westward or to Yuan Shao, only with troops and capable generals can we survive. Lord, decide quickly…"

Han Sui panted, slapping his chest to ease his breath. He was no longer young—nearing fifty, battered for months by Liao Hua, his ambition gone, his spirit shattered.

His rage now stemmed only from tallying his resources—and realizing all hope was lost.

Though dizzy, Han Sui was not yet delirious. He asked: "Meng Hui, do you wish to flee westward?"

"Indeed."

Watching Watching Cheng Gongying nodded, stroking his beard. "Wang Yan's power is immense—he has conquered all of Hebei, the northeast and north are rich in grain, half of Bingzhou is taken, and now he seeks Liangzhou to link with the Western Regions, extending two thousand li into the grasslands. The force attacking us is Liao Hua's Elite Cavalry—its strength we have witnessed firsthand. To fully occupy the grasslands will take no more than three to five years. Surveying the warlords, only Wang Yan has the potential to claim all under heaven.

If we submit to Yuan Shao, he will use us as vanguard against Cao Cao, Yuan Shu, Liu Bei—to resist Wang Yan with southern strength. We will be beneath others, unable to control our fate. Moreover, Yuan Shao's court is filled with powerful clans, tangled in rivalries. To them, we Liangzhou people are no different from barbarians—this is disastrous for us."

Moreover, Yuan Shao has suffered defeat in the north, believed to be at Wang Yan's hands; his entire force has lost its morale and will not withstand even a single blow from Wang Yan. Everyone in the world knows how Wang Yan treats powerful clans and wealthy households. When they are defeated, even if we are not captured by him, we cannot prevent his subordinates from presenting our corpses to appease him—ultimately, our bones will be toyed with by others.

If we go westward, it is entirely different. The western states are numerous and weak; with our army in hand, we can establish independence. Although Wang Yan seeks Liangzhou, his true goal is cotton and the western trade routes. If we go west, within twenty years, Wang Yan will not seek to take western lands. Even if Wang Yan later moves against the west, we can retreat further westward. I have heard that beyond the western lands lies a great nation called Guishuang; even if Wang Yan is strong, I do not believe Guishuang can be stronger than Wang Yan.

We can unite all factions and march west together, establish a state beyond the borders, and pass it down hereditarily—why not? Wang Yan values commerce; as long as we do not offend him and purchase goods at high prices, we will surely obtain military equipment. Our glorious Chinese army, armed with weapons and armor, can slaughter barbarians as easily as slaughtering pigs and dogs—how could our future path lack direction?"

This was an exceptionally insightful statement; even Wang Yan would have clapped vigorously. After all, this was a man with genuine ambition to expand beyond the borders, and Wang Yan greatly admired such people—even if they were driven to it out of desperation. Regardless, looking beyond the borders was correct; it was the legitimate tradition "since ancient times," and an excellent example for the next generation.

Han Sui pondered for a long time, then sighed deeply and said: "If we seek peace and submit to him, will Wang Yan spare our lives?"

Watching Watching Cheng Gongying stared intently at his longtime friend and superior, his piercing gaze forcing Han Sui to instinctively look away.

"I am old now, no longer possessing the vigor of my youth…"

Han Sui was filled with melancholy, as if explaining to his friend, as if comforting himself.

Watching Watching Cheng Gongying shook his head and sighed: "Lord, Wang Yan's core principle is to kill only those who oppress, exploit, and abuse the people. Whatever we have done requires no further explanation—Wang Yan will certainly kill us. If Wang Yan were not so resolute, do you believe Yuan Shao could have escaped alive from Henan?"

Han Sui also sighed. He knew Watching Watching Cheng Gongying was right—he simply couldn't help hoping for the best.

After another long silence, he drank some wine to calm his spirits and said: "From today onward, I withdraw my troops to Wu Wei. Meng Hui, you shall again serve as envoy to Wang Yan—first ask whether we may submit; if not, then discuss trade after we move westward."

"Yes, Lord."

"Bring plenty of treasure to please Wang Yan," Han Sui added specifically.

Watching Watching Cheng Gongying bowed, rose, and left to prepare for the mission.

Often, weakness is the greatest crime. Han Sui's dream of peacefully holding Liangzhou was shattered by the iron hooves of the Swift Cavalry; he suddenly realized he was old, no longer the brave warrior of his youth. When the dream ended, all he could speak were cowardly words—his ambition gone.

At this moment, they were utterly defeated, because they had lost their will to fight.

From beginning to end, neither of them discussed how to resist—even though they knew resistance was impossible. They never spoke of fleeing west, gathering an army of thirty-six states, and returning to avenge Wang Yan. They never mentioned building a state beyond the borders to one day spy on China again.

If you do not advance, you retreat; if you retreat, you decay. It is that simple.

A potential great war ended with merely a slight move by General Wang Da—even without much thought. All of this was already over…

Han Sui wished to lay down arms and seek peace, and to send envoys to negotiate with Wang Yan—he must first send word through Guo Jia. Only after Wang Yan approved could Watching Watching Cheng Gongying proceed.

Therefore, Guo Jia was the first to learn the news, and also learned that Han Sui had retreated to Wu Wei. He immediately seized Jincheng, Longxi, and Wudu, sealing off Han Sui's route to the Central Plains. Of course, he also did not forget to send a letter to Wang Yan explaining the situation.

Wang Yan naturally did not refuse. Liangzhou was vast and could not be fully occupied at once; hearing Han Sui's proposal posed no harm.

The situation in Near Jizhou had now stabilized completely. Everything followed established precedents: if we proceed methodically, continuously build infrastructure, gradually cultivate talent, train militia, promote commerce, and raise infant survival rates, strength will grow like a snowball. He was now truly idle.

Meeting face-to-face would take little time and could even be entertaining. The envoy, however, would have to travel back and forth for three or four months—and still receive a full set of customary tribute gifts. A good thing indeed…