Chapter 893: Face-Off

Zhuge Liang received his orders and rode hard back to the capital region, entering Hanzhong through Wu Pass. The messenger soldiers were far faster than he was; though Zhuge Liang was well-versed in the Six Arts and skilled with bow and horse, he still lagged far behind professional soldiers.

Thus, by the time Zhuge Liang arrived in Hanzhong, the document had already reached Luoyang and been delivered to Guo Jia's hands.

Later generations joked, "Guo Jia alive, Zhuge Liang stays hidden"—but it was just a joke. After all, when Guo Jia died, Zhuge Liang was only in his early twenties. Years earlier, he hadn't even reached adulthood. To speak of fate as if it governed human affairs was strained.

Of course, Wang Yan believed in fate—otherwise, his most beloved living father couldn't be explained. But to Wang Yan, he himself was fate. More often than not, Wang Mou still held a certain domineering air, and had grown greatly.

For Wang Yan's order to send an obscure figure like Zhuge Liang to take two ten-thousand-strong armies and attack Shu Commandery, Guo Jia had no objections. The Great General was an unparalleled boss, wise and mighty for years, never once faltering. Guo Jia trusted Wang Yan's judgment. He had also read the memorial Zhuge Liang had submitted, and acknowledged his competence.

Since the Great General had ordered it, he would simply comply—no need for idle talk. Moreover, he'd never been particularly diligent; once he'd longed to roam the land and direct affairs, but after doing so much, he found it dull. He often thought: once the Great General unifies the realm and ascends the throne, he'd do nothing at all and enjoy life. Now that someone was willing to take charge, he was perfectly content.

Furthermore, the Great General explicitly ordered Zhuge Liang's grain supplies to be overseen by him—that meant Zhuge Liang was under his jurisdiction, and he could issue direct commands. He understood the Great General's intent: to give Zhuge Liang a chance, yet ensure no greater mishaps occurred.

Guo Jia had previously wanted to cross Bashan and sent Zhao Yun to Xicheng. Now, perfectly, he could entrust this entire campaign to Zhuge Liang and focus on the other side, avoiding the problem of being too far away to respond.

So he did not meet Zhuge Liang face-to-face—only wrote a letter outlining a few matters and left him be, waiting only for Zhuge Liang's battle reports.

Zhuge Liang followed orders without going to pay respects to Guo Jia; he met Zhao Yun, found him gentle and steady, and felt deeply the Great General's favor. Warriors weren't supposed to be arrogant, but pride was natural. Especially among Wang Yan's generals—all of them, without exception, were famed veterans with decades of renown. They had every right to be proud.

He had prepared himself for challenges from the officers, but Zhao Yun uttered not a single word of complaint, obeying fully. This delighted him, yet left him with the odd sensation of punching cotton—he hadn't even managed to put on a show. It felt uncomfortable.

In the camp outside Ankang City, Zhao Yun sat humbly at the lower seat and asked: "Fengxiao originally ordered me to lead troops across Bashan and attack Xuanhan to strike deep into Shu. What is your strategy, Counselor?"

"If we take Xuanhan, our army can march straight into Shu with no obstruction. But I suspect Cao's forces will concentrate heavily on Xicheng, aiming for Hanzhong—and ultimately our capital region. Before coming here, I too considered attacking Xuanhan. But Wu Pass is impregnable, Nanyang holds massive troops, and even here in Ankang, after sending two ten-thousand armies, we still have three more to secure our rear.

Therefore, I intend to break through Yufu Jiangguan (Kuimen)—the vital link between Jing and Shu. Our forces along the southern riverbank are extensive and can strike from both east and west. If Cao's forces on the opposite shore come to reinforce, our navy can cross the river and strike straight for Changsha. If they don't, once we take the pass, Shu is already subdued. Even if Yufu Pass is heavily defended and hard to capture, our assault will still shake Cao's forces in Shu. A hundred advantages, no downside—why not do it?"

Zhuge Liang stroked his beard, speaking with absolute confidence. Seeing the surprise in Zhao Yun's eyes, he nodded in satisfaction—comfortable now…

Everyone knew the importance of Yufu Pass. Once captured, Cao's forces from Henan could charge straight through. And with Wang Yan's army's combat power, once no natural defenses remained, they were already defeated.

But conversely, since everyone knew its importance, Old Cao knew it too. Heavy defense was inevitable—certainly thirty to fifty thousand troops. So people naturally overestimated Yufu Pass, and thus unconsciously overlooked it.

Zhuge Liang did the opposite: even if he couldn't take Yufu Pass, he could blockade its supply lines. Without supplies, how long could the pass hold? Meanwhile, Shu had ample grain—much of Cao's military logistics ran through this route.

Even if trapped west of Yufu Pass, their combat strength could hold off enemies for a time—even small forces wouldn't be enough to defeat them. This single move would ripple through the entire war, affecting both Cao's forces in Shu and those in Jing Province. It would have a decisive impact on this great campaign.

Had Guo Jia, Jia Xu, and others thought of this? Of course they had. All were brilliant minds—they wouldn't overlook such a place. But Jia Xu's duty was to guard the rear, while Guo Jia's was to oversee the entire Hanzhong front and lead the offensive against Shu. Yufu Pass was too distant; Guo Jia couldn't reach it quickly to make decisions, and a misstep could lose tens of thousands.

Even with their vast resources, losing tens of thousands in a single battle was no light matter.

The most important reason, however, was that the advantage lay with them. Guo Jia had followed Wang Yan for twenty years and was deeply influenced by him—he favored ending battles with minimal cost, not taking reckless risks.

This was where Zhuge Liang differed: a man who claimed grand ambitions for statecraft. Though he'd served under Wang Yan for years, performed well, and studied theory thoroughly, he always craved a larger stage, always wanted to unleash his talent.

He'd never fully understood his army's strength before, since military and civil affairs were separated. Now, commanding troops himself, he grasped their true power. Zhuge Liang declared this was the richest campaign of his life—he couldn't help wanting to take a risk.

Overall, this Zhuge Liang was still young, full of drive—just like when he first left his thatched cottage, brimming with spirit, not the endless regret and gloom of Wuzhang Plains.

Immediately, Zhuge Liang wrote a document detailing his strategic intent.

One copy went to Nan Commandery, instructing its garrison to prepare for coordinated attacks if needed. One went to Guo Jia, so he could prepare if the situation changed—if Zhuge Liang got surrounded, Guo Jia must send reinforcements. One more went to the Luoyang Military Command, to ensure all troop movements had proper documentation, involving logistics and reserve militia mobilization. The Command would forward it to Wang Yan, so he could prepare and respond promptly.

The next day, he straightforwardly joined Zhao Yun and led the troops into Bashan—they would sneak through, catching Cao's forces off guard…

For ease of command, Cao Cao stationed his army in Poyang County, close to all three fronts of the Yangzhou battlefield, allowing him to direct operations up close. By now, for such a critical theater, he wouldn't entrust command to anyone else.

As evening approached, battle reports arrived one after another by fast horse—every front was under fierce assault, all begging for reinforcements. For a moment, Cao Cao felt overwhelming pressure, every line crying out in desperation, as if collapse were imminent—no ordinary man could endure such stress.

But Old Cao was no ordinary man. He immediately deduced that Wang Yan had come in person—and that Wang Yan was in Wuhu, facing Xu Chu.

The logic was simple: Wang Yan's goal was to cross the river along the entire front. Only then could he avoid a full-length standoff along the river with Old Cao. Neither dared leave the riverbank undefended—if Wang Yan crossed, Old Cao was finished. If Old Cao crossed, he'd devastate Henan, inflicting losses so great Wang Yan's years of work would be wasted.

Once across the Yangtze, the forces guarding it would be freed. Then Old Cao's defeat would be like a mountain collapsing. Even though he too freed his riverbank troops, his frontline soldiers relied on sheer numbers for advantage—and so did his second-line troops. His army's quality simply couldn't match Wang Yan's.

More importantly, the grain consumption of a stationary army differed vastly from that of an army on campaign. Even if Wang Yan couldn't deliver a decisive annihilation, Old Cao's supplies couldn't last longer. Prolonged war meant Cao's defeat.

This war was already destined to end one way—but the world is full of those who refuse to accept defeat, who won't yield. Old Cao was one of them.

In the official residence of Poyang County, Cao Cao rubbed his aching head, drinking wine as he pondered his response.

Below him sat Xun You, Cheng Yu, and others—all who had been planning with him here, including logistics coordination. In Shu, Xun Yu was in charge, with Jiang Ji, Liu Ye, Yang Xiu, and others facing off against Guo Jia.

Cao Cao said nothing, so none of them spoke either.

All present were wise men—they understood the full impact of Wang Yan's fierce offensive.

Cao Cao's available troops were limited—he couldn't reinforce everywhere, or the Yangtze would be undefended. But if he reinforced only Xu Chu's front, what of the others? Besides, they couldn't judge whether Wang Yan had even more troops. The war had lasted over a month; Wang Yan's mobilization was immense—no one knew how many had been summoned.

If Wang Yan broke through here and the other fronts collapsed, the Yangzhou campaign was over. Wang Yan's massive advance would leave Changsha unprotected for long. Then they'd retreat to Shu, where Wang Yan's army would besiege them—how long could Shu's natural defenses hold?

How could they achieve surprise? They couldn't even cross the river. Even if they annihilated the ten thousand elite troops in Yangzhou and seized Jiang Nan, it wouldn't help—only buy them another ten years. Wang Yan's depth was too great; losing ten thousand elite troops was a blow, but their northern invasion remained impossible.

Even Wang Yan struggled to cross the river—how much harder for their tiny sampans?

When their surprise attacks failed to achieve expected results, they had already lost. Even with surprise and overwhelming numbers, they couldn't break through Wang Yan's lines, seize Hanzhong or eastern Yangzhou, and thus their subsequent covert operations against Chang'an and Luoyang remained stalled and unexecuted.

Their strategy in Shu was defense: hold back Hanzhong's attacks, wait for an opening to deliver a crushing blow, and meanwhile wait to see how Yangzhou unfolded before deciding further.

Wang Yan's army grew larger and stronger with every battle, and years of his harsh rule had unsettled public sentiment. Though they constantly vilified Wang Yan, his legends still spread. Even the most ignorant commoners knew their lives had worsened—they harbored resentment.

The battles ahead would be sheer endurance—they had no choice. They pinned all hope on finding a weakness in the dynamic battlefield and striking one decisive blow to turn the tide.

But clearly, Wang Yan, who had been wise for twenty-four years, remained wise.

So Old Cao drank his bitter wine, and the wise strategists stayed silent.

Perhaps sensing the low morale, Cao Cao slammed his wine cup down: "Issue my order: dispatch thirty thousand troops to reinforce Xu Chu, and fifteen thousand more—five thousand to each front. Hold the line at all costs. Tomorrow, I will go to the front myself—our only hope lies in this battle. If we capture Wang Yan, the matter is settled. If not… Heaven has abandoned me."

After much thought, he found no better solution—he could only rely on overwhelming force. These nearly fifty thousand troops were all he could spare: fifteen thousand were his personal guard, thirty thousand pulled from the riverbank. More, and the Yangtze would be undefended.

So he resolved to gamble everything—hoping he was wiser than Wang Yan. Eighty thousand troops in such a small space—he refused to believe he couldn't crush Wang Yan.

Xun You bowed, rose, and wrote the orders. He presented them to Cao Cao, who stamped them, then sent them by fast courier.

Overall, under current conditions, the only hope was to kill Wang Yan. If Wang Yan died, though his resources remained, internal political struggles would disrupt the war effort. If they captured him alive, they could imprison him—Wang Yan's subordinates would dare not move.

What a beautiful fantasy—to imagine the Great General as the weak Emperors Hui and Qin, or as Zhu Qizhen?

Thank heaven the Great General didn't know they harbored such absurd ideas—if he did, these men would face certain ruin after defeat. It was an insult beyond measure.

Victory that day was decent: they inflicted three thousand casualties and pushed the front thirty li forward.

As for supply lines, it was simple: the river was full of warships, and the enemy was full of supplies. After advancing, he ordered militia from the opposite bank to escort prisoners, bury the dead, and replenish troop losses.

To date, he had directly deployed two hundred thousand frontline troops—ten thousand in Hanzhong, ten thousand in Yangzhou. Second-line militia and males over fifteen reached one million. The second-line militia handled grain transport, troop replenishment, and guarding passes and riverbanks; those over fifteen merely transported grain, giving them a sense of participation in the war.

The "over fifteen" category included former soldiers, excluding the disabled and men over forty. Many Colonels remained in place, maintaining stability and managing regional logistics.

A month had passed; the orders had been disseminated everywhere. From the Northeast to the grasslands and then to Liang Province, no one was idle; everyone was serving the war effort.

Although a million able-bodied men had been mobilized, this still did not amount to going all out. A significant margin had been reserved to prepare for next year's spring plowing; farming was something they would never dare delay, even under threat of death.

In the final analysis, Wang Yan did not regard Old Cao as an opponent, and he indeed possessed such strength. After all, he had been farming for over twenty years; how could that effort have been in vain?

After a night of sound sleep, early the next morning, following breakfast, the fighting resumed. Today's battle was quite interesting: in the morning, he battered the opposing side until they were barely holding on; after a few engagements, he inflicted over two thousand casualties on them and advanced ten li. Yet, as nightfall approached, a sudden defeat cost him several hundred men, making Wang Yan laugh.

He knew: Old Cao had arrived...