Chapter 189: Ten Gold Medals Do Not Herald Death; One Letter's Weight Can Swallow the Barbarians

The wind on the northern frontier was cold as iron.

Across the open wilderness, a trail of dust raced from far to near, and within the dust, a single rider and horse, hooves churning, beat out a rhythm urgent as war drums.

The courier on horseback lay low, almost fused with his mount, feeling only the wind howling past his ears, whipping his cheeks raw.

He dared not slacken for an instant. What he carried against his chest was top-priority military intelligence from the capital, and it had to be delivered as fast as possible.

Closer, closer still.

The massive outline of the encampment was now clearly visible — the sharp-angled watchtowers and the high-flying command banner bearing the character "Ma," all radiating a grim, forbidding aura in the sunlight.

"Whoa—"

Racing up to the camp gate, the courier hauled back on the reins. The warhorse reared, letting out a long neigh.

"Who goes there! Dismount!" The guards at the gate bellowed, their voices like booming bells, crossing their long halberds to block the way.

The courier swung down from the saddle, his movements crisp and without the slightest hesitation. He pulled the dispatch tally from his chest and held it high. His voice came out broken from his violent panting:

"By... by order of the Grand Commissioner-in-Chief! The rear station has received a top-priority telegram, must... must be delivered at speed!"

The gate officer dared not delay. He strode forward and carefully inspected the tally.

Once he had confirmed it was genuine, he nodded, took a small red command flag from the side, and thrust it into the courier's back.

"Enter." The gate officer stepped aside, clearing the path.

The courier had no time for thanks. He tossed the reins to the gate officer and broke into a run once more.

The moment he entered the camp gate, a wave of noise and heat washed over him.

Unlike the bleak desolation outside, this place was a seething world.

(Image attached, just to give an idea, friends — some of the structures here don't quite look like a temporary encampment.)

Before the camp gate lay a broad parade ground.

This was standard military practice: in peacetime, it was used for drilling and martial exercises.

When the enemy attacked, it became the rallying point for the troops.

If they chose to defend, they simply assigned men to each section of the palisade wall.

If they chose to attack, they would push down the palisade from within and march out in formation.

On the parade ground, soldiers were either practicing archery or sparring in pairs.

A few fierce, brawny men, worked into a frenzy from lifting stone locks, had simply stripped to the waist, their bodies wreathed in billowing white steam.

The courier, the red flag at his back, entered the camp and headed straight for the command tent.

Those along the way saw him and stopped their tasks one after another.

But before long, most of them turned back to their drills with indifference.

Every man in this six-thousand-strong force was a fierce warrior, well-fed with silver and seasoned by years of slaughter. They had long grown accustomed to war.

As the old saying goes: in battle, a man who can still grip his blade and has spit in his mouth is a good soldier.

Among these six thousand crack troops, more than half had likely seen blood.

The courier had no leisure to look around. He ran all the way to the outer perimeter of the command tent before finally stopping.

He was already gasping for breath, and as he handed the envelope in his arms to the personal guard before the tent, his lips trembled, unable to utter a single word.

The guard took the envelope. The moment he saw the vivid red characters "TOP PRIORITY" on the cover, his expression flickered. He said in a low voice, "Wait here."

With that, he turned and walked a dozen paces, passing through two more checkpoints of personal guards.

Only then did this telegram, sent from six hundred and seventy-four li away, finally reach the heart of this great encampment.

Inside the command tent, a furious uproar reigned.

Regional Commander Ma Shilong sat upright behind the command table, eyes closed in concentration, utterly silent.

On that habitually stern face, not a trace of emotion could be read.

Below him, dozens of officers from various garrisons along the Nine Frontiers were gathered around a massive map, quarreling in a tangled knot.

On the map, mountains, rivers, cities, and roads were all marked with perfect clarity.

"Fight at Jining Lake!" A towering, powerfully built general slammed his fist onto the map. "Strike while they've just arrived in their westward migration and haven't yet found their footing. Our main army sweeps down to kill — we can settle this in a single battle!"

"No!" Another general immediately objected. "The terrain around Jining Lake is open, ideal for cavalry to gallop. Though the Tiger Chieftain is migrating west, the men under his command are all elite. If we pursue a fleeing enemy, once our battle line stretches too far, I fear unforeseen disaster! By then, we'll have only a handful of heads to show for it — just another bloodless, painless victory!"

"Then according to you, what should we do?"

"We should fight at Qingcheng!" The general's finger jabbed down hard on the location marked "Qingcheng." "Use Qingcheng as bait, set a trap, and when the Tiger Chieftain walks into the sack, our main army closes in from all sides — finish the whole campaign in one stroke! This is the foolproof plan!"

"A foolproof plan? Hah! The right-flank route at Qingcheng is absolutely unworkable! You must realize a cornered beast fights to the death. Taking that route makes it far too easy for the Tiger Chieftain to stake everything on one desperate gamble! Even if we win then, it'll be a Pyrrhic victory!"

"Exactly — we want him to stake everything on one desperate gamble! The western barbarians are good shots but poor in close combat. Once we block the opening, he'll have no room to maneuver! This is the moment to take heads, earn honors, and seize a great victory!"

"If you want to take the left route, why not just fight at Jining Lake and be done with it! Won't the result be the same — chasing a fleeing enemy and ending up with only a handful of heads!"

"How can those be the same?! East of Qingcheng there's a mountain pass. If our army wins, even if the Tiger Chieftain escapes, his men will trample each other to death. How can you compare that to Jining Lake! You don't know the terrain, so stop spouting nonsense here!"

"You old Shanxi bumpkin, how dare you speak to me like that!"

Some sought great merit; some sought absolute certainty.

There was no right or wrong — only choices.

And all those choices, in the end, rested on the man behind the command table who sat silent with his eyes closed.

The quarreling inside the tent grew louder and louder, nearly enough to blow the roof off.

Just at that moment, an urgent voice came from outside the tent, instantly drowning out all the clamor.

"Report! Top-priority telegram has arrived! The first dispatch is here!"

The voice was not loud, but it reached every man's ears with perfect clarity.

The entire command tent fell instantly silent.

All the arguing officers whipped their heads around, staring toward the tent entrance.

Before anyone could react.

"Report! Priority telegram incoming! The second has arrived!"

Another ringing shout!

Right on its heels—

"Report! Priority telegram incoming! The third has arrived!"

"Report! Priority telegram incoming! The fourth has arrived!"

"Report! Priority telegram incoming! The fifth has arrived!"

Priority telegrams — five sent in succession!

Each spaced mere moments apart; they came one after another without pause!

Wave after wave of announcements crashed down, smothering the clamor of debate and the brawl about to erupt.

Inside the command tent, a deathly silence fell, broken only by the heavy breathing of the men.

Behind the command table, Ma Shilong, who had kept his eyes closed in repose all this while — those narrow, slanted phoenix eyes of his — suddenly snapped open!

"Adjutant, bring the codebook. Decode at once!"

Adjutant He Kegang's hands were steady.

Before he was reassigned as Adjutant, these were hands that could draw a nine-strength hard bow, hands that had taken the heads of more than ten bandits.

Yet this time, his heart had leaped into his throat as never before.

Five priority telegrams, fired off from the capital like a string of firecrackers.

In all the time since these six thousand elite cavalry had shifted their garrison to Datong—

No, since the unit was first founded — nothing like this had ever happened.

In the past, radio exchanges had at most been Grade-A telegrams. Why was it that the Commissioner-in-Chief had sent one telegram this morning, and now, barely past the hour of noon, five telegrams had come back in rapid succession?!

And besides... why did this so closely resemble the story in the popular tales of Yue Fei and the twelve golden plaques?

He Kegang dared not dwell on it. He could only stiffly flip through the codebook, checking each message character by character as he decoded.

Inside the tent, several dozen officers held their breath and focused their minds.

The arrogant, battle-hardened generals who moments ago had been arguing until their faces were red now all waited for the result.

These past few days of council in the tent, every faction had its own plan, and the commanders had been quarreling over them for days.

And Ma Shilong had not uttered a single word about any of it.

Why?

Because this campaign was truly out of the ordinary — there was not a single Governor or Supreme Commander above them to give orders!

In the past, strategic decisions of this magnitude had always been made by those civil officials. When had it ever fallen to a group of military officers like them to decide?

At last, He Kegang stopped.

He raised his head, but his expression had become exceedingly strange.

There was shock, there was bewilderment, and more than anything, an indescribable excitement.

"He Kegang, read it!"

From behind the command table, Ma Shilong's voice came, utterly devoid of emotion.

He Kegang drew a deep breath. Holding that thin slip of translated text, he felt as though he were holding the weight of a thousand jun.

He stepped forward, came before the command table, dropped to one knee, and his voice trembled slightly from agitation:

"Marshal... the five telegrams. The translations... are all identical."

"Speak!"

"Yes..." He Kegang swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. Finally, mustering every ounce of strength in his body, he roared it out, one word at a time:

"Do what you must!!"

No lengthy discourse on strategy, no tedious and detailed deployments, still less any reprimand assigning blame.

Only these four words — simple, yet heavier than Mount Tai.

Do what you must!

In that instant, one could have heard a pin drop in the command tent.

Everyone was stunned.

Those commanders who moments before had been locked in heated dispute over tactics now had faces filled with shock and incomprehension.

They had imagined countless possibilities: the Son of Heaven in a fury, demanding the enemy be destroyed by a deadline; or upheaval at court, bringing some other edict.

But never once had they imagined it would be four words so close to plain vernacular.

What sort of military order was this?

What sort of imperial decree was this?

And yet, behind the command table, Ma Shilong — the moment he heard those four words — his face, normally as unruffled as an ancient well, underwent a violent transformation.

His lips trembled faintly, and the rims of his eyes reddened at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Those sharp, hawk-like phoenix eyes stared fixedly at He Kegang kneeling on the ground, as though he meant to bore a flower out of those four words on his face.

The sovereign does not doubt his minister; the minister does not betray his sovereign.

Since ancient times, how many commanders had dreamed of this, yet found it forever beyond reach!

When the general is in the field, there are orders from the sovereign he need not accept.

So the saying goes — but which general commanding an army in the field did not have to face a ruthless enemy on one side, while guarding against open spears and hidden arrows from the court on the other?

Suspicion, meddling, remote-control command... these things were like a canker gnawing at the bone. How many heroes and gallant men had they brought to final ruin on the battlefield, snatching defeat from the jaws of victory!

But today, this young Son of Heaven, in the most direct and most resolute way, had told Ma Shilong—

Do what you must!

This telegram was no military order — yet it surpassed a thousand words of military orders.

This was an attitude, a resolve, a trust beyond all measure — a trust that laid the entire outcome of the campaign, the lives of thousands of officers and men, and even the safety of the Great Ming's northern frontier, all upon the shoulders of one man: Ma Shilong!

A thousand pieces of gold are easily come by; a single measure of trust is hard to find!

Ma Shilong, unable to contain his agitation, slammed the table with a thunderous crash that sent the command tallies leaping into the air.

Then, striding swiftly to the open space in the center of the tent, he straightened his armor and robes, faced the direction of the capital, and fell to his knees with a boom!

"Your Majesty's boundless grace! This lowly general, Ma Shilong, dares not shrink from death, if it may repay but one ten-thousandth of it!"

The scores of proud, battle-hardened officers in the tent instantly fell to their knees in unison: "Your Majesty's boundless grace! This lowly general dares not shrink from death!"

A moment later, Ma Shilong slowly rose, and the others stood up with him.

The atmosphere inside the command tent was now utterly transformed from what it had been moments before.

If before it had been a marketplace of clashing opinions and endless quarrels, now it was a keen blade on the verge of being drawn — its edge sheathed, its killing intent concealed.

Yet the first words out of Ma Shilong's mouth had nothing whatsoever to do with the military situation at hand.

"A few days ago, the express courier station delivered the latest edition of the Great Ming Times. Have you all read it?"

The officers looked at one another, momentarily baffled.

What... what did that have to do with the military situation before them?

After a brief silence, someone finally spoke up.

"In reply to the Supreme Commander, this general has read it." It was Cao Wenzhao, the Mobile Corps Commander from Liaodong. "It says the court is going to posthumously ennoble Lord Qi."

No sooner had he finished than another man chimed in: "That's not all! I also saw that it commented on Lord Xiong, saying he 'strove to prop up the collapsing heavens but did not succeed' — defeated yet still glorious. This is the court's official judgment. Lord Xiong's spirit beneath the springs can rest in peace now."

"That matter of 'red-marked honors' mentioned in the newspaper — can it be of use to us on this expedition?" another Assistant Regional Commander asked. "In the past, it was said that whoever took the barbarian chieftain's head could be enfeoffed as a state duke. So this time, if we slaughter that Tiger Chieftain, will it count?"

"Exactly, exactly! If that's truly the case, won't every last one of the brothers fight with unmatched valor!"

The murmur of discussion rose again, but this time it was no longer quarreling — it carried a note of excitement and anticipation.

Ma Shilong did not interrupt them. He merely swept his sharp gaze slowly across every man in the tent.

Man Gui, Regional Commander of Liaodong — abundant in valor, somewhat lacking in stratagem, but peerless when it came to charging the enemy lines.

Mobile Corps Commander Cao Wenzhao — fearless in the face of death, a fierce warrior of rare quality.

Adjutant He Kegang — master of both bow and horse, meticulous in thought, a man fit for great responsibility.

And Jiang Mingwu of Datong, Tong Weikun of Zhending, You Shiwei of the Ji Garrison...

Every single name was one that he and Supreme Commander Sun Chengzong had personally selected, one by one, from the officer rosters of the Nine Border Garrisons — the finest troops and strongest officers.

As soon as His Majesty ascended the throne, on the strength of a single interview, he had plucked Ma Shilong from the status of a Regional Commander bearing criminal charges, promoted him by extraordinary leap, personally imparted the strategic plan, and entrusted him with the full authority of the campaign.

During the audience, His Majesty had even affectionately addressed him as "Great General Ma," invoking the name of Guan Yunchang to stir his spirit.

When a sovereign treats me as a scholar of the realm, I must repay him as a scholar of the realm!

With such grace and trust, was he, Ma Shilong, a man of wood and stone? How could he not think of burning his body and crushing his bones to repay his sovereign's kindness!

It was time to let all under heaven see just what kind of man he, Ma Shilong, truly was!

When the murmur of discussion had gradually subsided, Ma Shilong spoke again.

"His Majesty trusts me. He trusts us."

"Then how can we not trust His Majesty!"

He jabbed a finger at the map, at "Green City," his voice ringing like a great bell:

"In this campaign, merit shall be rewarded without fail, and fault shall be punished without fail! To win noble titles for your wives and sons, to be enfeoffed as lords and appointed as generals — the moment is now!"

"This campaign is precisely to show the tribes of southern Mongolia that the Great Ming's heroic spirit still stands!"

"Do you all understand!"

The men clasped their hands as one and roared in unison, their voices nearly lifting the roof off the command tent: "We respectfully obey the Commissioner-in-Chief's command!"

Ma Shilong, broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, a man of towering stature, reached the map in just a few strides.

He swept his gaze over them and said in a deep voice: "His Majesty made this clear long ago. A commander must not quibble over momentary gains and losses; he must look to the overall strategy."

"Six thousand elite cavalry, striking a hundred li beyond the frontier — the objective is not a handful of severed heads, not some pursuit of a routed enemy."

He paused, and his tone grew heavier.

"The core objective is one, and one alone — before the very eyes of the Mongol Right Wing, we must crush the Tiger Chieftain, cleanly and decisively!"

"The Mongol vermin fear force but do not cherish virtue. Only martial prowess can make them bow their heads and speak! That is why this battle cannot be fought at Jining Lake — because that would not be decisive enough!"

"However," he shifted his tone, "neither are we to annihilate the Tiger Chieftain. If the Mongol Right Wing were left without an adversary, why would they turn to us? And the Jurchens would then be able to directly meddle in Mongol affairs — that, too, is not the best outcome."

"Therefore..." Ma Shilong thrust his finger at the map, "this campaign must choose the western route, and cannot choose the eastern route! Is that understood!"

"Understood!" The officers clasped their hands in acknowledgment. Even those who had just been insisting on the eastern route now raised no further objection.

Ma Shilong pointed. "Jiang Mingwu."

A dark-skinned officer with a keen, vigorous bearing stepped forward.

"You are the Garrison Commander of Weiyuan and know this terrain best. Explain how to advance by the western route."

Jiang Mingwu clasped his hands in salute, stepped forward, and spoke, a note of excitement in his voice:

"Commissioner-in-Chief, for a western-route advance, there is indeed a precedent to follow."

"Our army can first shift to Datong Right Guard, then exit through Shahukou and proceed to the Yulin Pass. This stretch is roughly forty li."

"After passing Yulin, we press north all the way. It is one hundred and thirty li to Green City, reachable within a day and a night."

He grew more and more animated as he spoke:

"A few days ago, this general reviewed past military dispatches. In the thirty-ninth year of Jiajing, the Datong Regional Commander Liu Han took exactly this route."

"He selected six thousand crack troops. Liu Han stationed three thousand at the Yulin Pass to guard the rear line, while Assistant Regional Commander Wang Mengxia and the others marched through the night, reaching the walls of Green City at dawn. They destroyed its encampments and burned its palaces!"

Yet Jiang Mingwu's impassioned speech met only Ma Shilong's cold, still gaze.

His heart seized, and his voice came to an abrupt halt. Only then did he cool down a little.

(Attached map: red marks the western route, aiming for a frontal engagement with the goal of routing the enemy; green marks the eastern route, aiming to strike the rear line with the goal of annihilation. In the thirty-ninth year of Jiajing, Liu Han's raid on Altan Khan's Green City took the western route.)

Ma Shilong offered no judgment, merely sweeping his gaze over the assembled commanders. "Man Gui, explain the combat strength of both sides."

Man Gui answered and stepped forward. He was terse and to the point: "The Tiger Chieftain has roughly thirty to fifty thousand riders, but that is the total when all the tribes he has bound to him are counted. The day before yesterday, a telegram arrived from the capital: the Aohan and Naiman tribes have defected east to the barbarian chieftain. That removes ten thousand from the count."

"From this one incident, it is plain that in this westward migration of the Tiger Chieftain, the hearts of the various tribes are not necessarily united."

"The force he can truly rely on is the six gūsa of his own tribe (analogous to the Eight Banners of the Later Jin), each led by his consorts and jaisang, numbering roughly ten thousand riders."

"Beyond that, the next element to note is his personally led bayara, an elite cavalry force of roughly one thousand to fifteen hundred, but absolutely no more than two thousand."

"These men are handpicked by the Chahar Khan himself. Every one of them can shoot from either side of the horse and is thoroughly skilled in bow and horsemanship. They are all equipped with hide armor and cotton armor, and a few even have bright armor."

At this point, Man Gui shifted his tone and spoke with finality.

"As for the Mongol right wing — the Kharchin tribe, the Buryat tribe, and the rest — their combined forces also number over thirty thousand riders."

"However, when I served as a general at Xuanfu in the past, I knew well that their military preparedness is neglected and their hearts are not united."

"If the Tiger Chieftain wins this battle, it will be by first using the various tribes to probe and tangle in battle, then pressing forward with his own gūsa, and finally delivering the decisive blow with his bayara."

He concluded, crisp and clean: "Therefore, in the battle at Jining Lake, the Tiger Chieftain will certainly win, and the Kharchin and Buryat tribes will certainly lose!"

Ma Shilong nodded slightly and turned to He Kegang. "Explain how our army would fight the Tiger Chieftain."

He Kegang crossed his hands and stepped forward:

"Commissioner-in-Chief, if our army strikes the Tiger Chieftain at Qingcheng, we need only peel away the various tribes and pursue his own tribe to force battle."

"This is because among the various Chahar tribes, there are many who are familiar with our Liaodong army."

"Among them, the Dolot tribe, with five thousand bowstrings, has always been on friendly terms with our Great Ming and is the most obedient of all the barbarians."

"Also, within the Khuchit tribe, Guntu Taiji has frequently traded at the passes outside Jinzhou. For these two tribes, we can send a Barbarian-Pacifying Officer to their tents for a talk, which might cause them to hesitate."

He swept his gaze over the assembled commanders and said with confidence: "But even if all the tribes exert themselves, our army has stout armor and sharp weapons, and we have selected elite troops from every border garrison — how could there be any reason we would not win! Besides, given how the Tiger Chieftain has conducted himself in the past, how could he possibly get the tribes to exert themselves? Are they not afraid of becoming the next Chaohua?"

At these words, the commanders in the tent who had served in Liaodong — men like Man Gui and Cao Wenzhao — immediately burst into loud laughter.

Even Ma Shilong's face could not help but show a trace of a smile.

The others who had not served in Liaodong were not well versed in the history of the various Liaodong barbarians and were somewhat baffled.

Seeing this, He Kegang smiled and explained: "This story indeed ought to be told clearly."

"This Tiger Chieftain, ever since he ascended the throne as a youth, has vigorously pursued annexation, seeking to restore the former image of the Mongol Yuan."

"This 'Chaohua' was formerly a part of the Khalkha tribe. After fighting the barbarian chieftain in Liaodong and being defeated, he submitted to the Tiger Chieftain, but was instead murdered and his forces annexed. His son, Nangnu, subsequently took his remaining followers and defected to the Jurchens."

"After this affair, the various Chahar tribes were all thrown into panic, and there were many instances of collusion with the barbarian chieftain."

He Kegang paused and added, "The matter of the Aohan and Naiman tribes, though it had not yet erupted when I was dispatched to Liaodong, I can now make a fair guess based on past understanding."

"The people of those two tribes, I imagine, were first reluctant to leave their old lands, and second, feared that Ligdan Khan would use the westward migration as a pretext to annex their forces. Viewed in this light, the other tribes may well share the same anxiety."

Ma Shilong nodded and spoke: "Thus, the combat strength of the three parties and the state of military preparedness are now as clear as reading the lines on one's palm — sharp and distinct."

His expression turned solemn, and his voice shook the command tent: "All commanders, attend your orders!"

The commanders stiffened, crossed their hands in unison, and roared: "We await the Commissioner-in-Chief's orders!"

"Tomorrow at the hour of the rabbit, we shift camp to the Right Guard of Datong and await the moment of battle!"

"Jiang Mingwu!"

"You have been here for several years and know the border conditions and terrain intimately. Take overall command of five hundred forward scouts and proceed first along the Yulin Pass line to reconnoiter the route!"

"This subordinate accepts the order!"

"Man Gui!"

"You will command four thousand troops! Cao Wenzhao, You Shiwei, Tong Weikun, and the rest are all assigned to your command."

"All the stout, large horses selected the day before yesterday are to be placed at your disposal. Continue drilling the battle formations and familiarizing yourself with each commander. You must ensure that by the time battle comes, you can command them as easily as an arm moves a finger!"

"This subordinate accepts the order!"

"He Kegang!"

"You will manage the central army! From tomorrow onward, prepare all hay, bean fodder, grain, and other provisions."

"The four thousand stout, large horses previously selected are to receive three bundles of hay and five sheng of bean fodder per day."

"All remaining horses are to receive two bundles of hay and four sheng of bean fodder per day."

"Also, prepare seven days' worth of field rations for the march beyond the passes and stockpile them in advance behind Yulin Pass!"

"This subordinate accepts the order!"

Ma Shilong finally said: "The remaining fifteen hundred troops will all be returned to the central army. When the time comes, I shall personally hold Yulin Pass and serve as the rearguard for all of you!"

His gaze swept over the assembly like lightning.

"For this battle, we have only these six thousand. Datong will provide no support whatsoever."

"Therefore, we can only be swift, never slow!"

"When the time comes, half a day to reach Yulin, half a day to rest and reorganize, then advance on Qingcheng. On the third day, with an imposing battle array, we shall strike the Tiger Chieftain beneath the walls of Qingcheng!"

"All we wait for is the conclusion of the battle at Jining Lake, and then we break camp and march beyond the passes!"

"This battle..."

Ma Shilong was about to continue when the sound of hurried footsteps suddenly came from outside the tent.

"Report—! Special-grade telegram arriving! The first dispatch is here!"

The previously clamorous command tent instantly fell so silent one could hear a pin drop.

Everyone halted their movements, looking at one another, their eyes filled with shock and uncertainty.

An ominous premonition instantly seized every man's heart.

Could it be... that the new sovereign had suddenly changed his mind again?

To alter plans on the eve of battle was a cardinal taboo of warfare and dealt a severe blow to morale!

Everyone's gaze instinctively turned toward Ma Shilong.

Ma Shilong's heart was uncertain, but his face broke into a hearty laugh. "Decode it, then! What are you all looking at me for!"

He Kegang's heart steadied. He took the telegram and, codebook in hand, carefully verified it again.

A moment later, He Kegang jerked his head up, his face alight with incredulous, wild joy. He opened his mouth as if to shout, then drew a deep breath first, and only then bellowed with all his might:

"His Majesty has issued an order!"

He paused, then enunciated every word at the top of his lungs:

"In this campaign, all Datong military affairs are to be directed by Ma Shilong!"

Ma Shilong strode forward and took the thin slip of decoded paper from He Kegang's hand.

After scanning it for a moment, he suddenly threw back his head and laughed to the heavens.

"Ha ha ha ha! I knew His Majesty was wise! With this order, the campaign will be laid out very differently!"

Ma Shilong turned, and in soaring spirits shouted beyond the tent: "Someone! Saddle my horse! I am going to see Qu Jiazhen and Zhang Fengyi!"

Brimming with momentum, he strode toward the tent entrance.

Yet after a few steps, Ma Shilong stopped abruptly.

He slowly turned back, looked at the assembled officers in the tent, and could not help breaking into a grin.

"No, no — at this moment, I should be summoning those two to come and see me."

After a brief silence, thunderous roars of laughter shook the entire command tent.