Chapter 353: First Question from the Military Champion's Civil Policy Examination Scroll

I used AI to help translate this into plain Chinese, so I haven't been too particular about formatting and punctuation.

To discuss the extraordinary art of war with extraordinary insight.

What we call war appears on the surface to be a contest of strength, but its operations encompass the shifting conditions of "emptiness" and "solidity" — both must be studied thoroughly.

What we call strength is in truth the use of stratagem to make the opponent submit, but its application encompasses the methods of the "unorthodox" and the "orthodox" — both must be employed to their utmost.

Therefore, one skilled in fathoming the enemy's situation can often strike at the enemy's weak points while avoiding their elite main force;

and one skilled in defeating the enemy lies in being able to rely on a regular, upright host to execute unexpected, unorthodox stratagems.

If one does not think of using unorthodox stratagems, how can one overcome the enemy and secure victory?

But if one cannot even clearly assess the balance of strength and the stakes between our side and the enemy's, how can one deploy unorthodox stratagems and bring about wondrous shifts on the battlefield?

Once such a situation arises, even if your army is fierce and courageous, the enemy may seize the chance to strike back — how much more so for a side whose strength is already insufficient?

From this we can see that while the use of troops is fundamentally rooted in strength, one cannot rely on brute force alone;

while the art of battle prizes uprightness and orthodoxy, one cannot cling rigidly to convention without knowing how to adapt.

How can those who bear the heavy responsibility of guarding the frontiers and commanding the three armies not reflect carefully on this question?

The Martial Sage Sun Wu once said: "Tactics are no more than the 'unorthodox' and the 'orthodox,' yet the transformations between the unorthodox and the orthodox are inexhaustible."

He also said: "In battle, engage the enemy with orthodox troops, and secure victory with unorthodox troops."

All of this tells us that although the art of war encompasses both the orthodox and the unorthodox, seizing victory must often rely on unorthodox stratagems.

This also serves as a warning to those who understand only the use of brute force.

Su Xun of the Song dynasty also said: "When fighting by conventional methods, victory or defeat remains uncertain; but if one uses unorthodox stratagems, one will win five times out of ten."

It is evident that Su Xun's view likewise originates from Sunzi.

Alas, after the kingly way of the Zhou dynasty declined, the martial might of hegemons began to run rampant;

after the way of benevolence and righteousness grew faint, the arts of power and stratagem began to flourish.

The form of warfare embodied by the righteous armies of the Three Dynasties era has long since left us, yet men of later ages often shrink from discussing "unorthodox stratagems" — this is simply repeating the follies of Duke Xiang of Song and Lord Cheng'an, inviting the ridicule of all under heaven.

Nevertheless, the way of using troops is truly not something that can be lightly explained.

It is like a physician treating illness: when encountering a heat disorder, one uses coptis; when encountering a cold disorder, one uses cinnamon bark — these are conventional therapies.

But in the hands of divine physicians like Bian Que and Lu Yi, it is not so.

They sharpen the needle and whet the stone, feinting east and striking west; the needle seems to enter almost carelessly, and before the patient even realizes it, the illness is cured and he rises up restored.

It is also like playing chess: when a master lays out the board, he discerns the opponent's weaknesses and seizes the moment to strike fiercely.

Yet a chess sage like Yiqiu can place a stone from afar, setting up positions in seemingly irrelevant places, his intent lying beyond the obvious contest, while imperceptibly he has already locked in the winning game.

Why is this so? The same art, yet there is a difference between the superior and the inferior in its application.

If chess and medicine are already like this, how much more so the waging of war?

Therefore, defeating the enemy is not difficult; what is difficult is devising unorthodox stratagems.

Devising unorthodox stratagems is not difficult; what is difficult is accurately grasping the true situation of both sides, enemy and our own.

The art of war says: "Know the enemy and know yourself, and in a hundred battles you will never be in peril." This is precisely the secret of using unorthodox stratagems through penetrating insight into the enemy's situation.

If you do not understand the enemy, you cannot anticipate their movements;

if you do not understand yourself, you cannot assess your own strength.

Know both enemy and self, and you will win a hundred victories; know the enemy but not yourself, or know yourself but not the enemy, and you will win one and lose one; know neither — then defeat is only a matter of time.

But is the enemy's situation and our own so easily fathomed?

Thus, if you wish the enemy to advance, feign defeat and retreat to lure him;

if you wish our own soldiers to advance, use rich rewards to steel their resolve.

If you do not carefully assess the circumstances, and your unorthodox stratagem is only half-deployed when you discover that the disparity in troop strength is too great to sustain the effort, then you are in danger.

Or use a feigned surrender to make the enemy let down their guard, then seize the moment to attack;

or sow discord within the enemy camp to undermine their morale.

If you do not carefully assess the circumstances, and your unorthodox stratagem is only half-deployed — the enemy is being led by the nose by our side, yet our side fails to launch a sudden surprise assault;

our side is being pressed by the enemy's main force, yet we fail to use decoy troops to confuse them.

If you do not carefully assess the circumstances, all these unorthodox stratagems may fail.

The conditions on the battlefield are truly ever-changing, inexhaustible and without end.

If one cannot discern the traces of change, analyze the causes of advantage and harm, and carefully weigh matters between enemy and self, how can one perceive emptiness and solidity and grasp the full situation?

Think back to when Han Xin dammed the Wei River upstream with sandbags, luring Long Ju into pursuit; when Long Ju's army was halfway across the river, Han Xin breached the sandbags, and the great flood swept away the enemy troops — Long Ju was defeated and killed. This is the model of "feigning defeat to lure the enemy."

When Emperor Guangwu's army was pursued by Wang Lang to the Hutuo River, Wang Ba declared that the river's surface had already frozen solid, steadying the troops' hearts; the Han army was thus able to cross the river. This is the model of "setting a ruse to steel resolve."

The art of war says: "It is most advantageous to strike the enemy when they are halfway across a river," and also: "You may lure the enemy with profit, but do not tell him of the danger hidden within." Han Xin and Wang Ba precisely grasped this principle.

Yet some rigid-minded people say: what if the sandbags had broken prematurely, or the river ice had never frozen — would these two men not have simply delivered their own lives to the enemy?

They utterly fail to realize that Long Ju was fierce and reckless, contemptuous of the enemy, deaf to counsel, and greedy for glory, rushing headlong forward;

while Wang Lang's army was newly cobbled together, its fighting strength weak and its morale unsteady.

Moreover, the plan to breach the water and the stratagem to block the river — Han Xin and Wang Ba had long since devised these in advance, having achieved the state of knowing the enemy and knowing themselves. What was there left to worry about?

When Cao Cao attacked Eastern Wu, his warships stretched for a thousand li, yet in the end Huang Gai set a single torch, and Zhou Yu routed Cao's army at Red Cliffs. This is the model of "feigning surrender to exploit laxity."

When Fu Jian of the Former Qin attacked the Eastern Jin, he boasted that he could halt the river's flow merely by casting his riding whips into it, yet in the end Zhu Xu let out a single great shout before the battle lines, and Xie Xuan routed the Qin army at the Fei River. This is the model of "using internal agents to sap morale."

The art of war says: "When fire is used to assist an attack, the effect is striking," and also: "You may use the enemy's spies and turn them to your own purposes." Zhou Yu and Xie Xuan precisely grasped this principle.

Yet some rigid-minded people also say: what if Huang Gai had not caught the eastern wind that day, or if Zhu Xu had not shouted before the battle lines — would these two men's stratagems not have failed?

They do not know that Cao Cao had at that time forgotten the troubles within his own camp, waging a distant campaign with soldiers unaccustomed to the climate and terrain;

and that Fu Jian rejected Fu Rong's remonstrations, committing the grave taboo of underestimating the enemy.

The strategic positions of host and guest on both sides were already as far apart as heaven and earth; even without the stratagems of Huang Gai and Zhu Xu, Eastern Wu and the Eastern Jin might well have prevailed.

Precisely because Zhou Yu and Xie Xuan planned with precision and knew both themselves and their enemies, what was there left to worry about?

Li Su attacked Caizhou in a snowy night, bypassed the enemy's sentry posts, entered the city, and captured Wu Yuanji alive — this is striking where the enemy least expects it, attacking where they are unprepared.

When the Uyghurs invaded, Guo Ziyi removed his helmet and went to meet the enemy commander; he neutralized the threat without bloodshed — this is exploiting the enemy's hesitation to buy time.

The Art of War says, "March by routes the enemy does not anticipate, strike where they have taken no precautions," and also, "The enemy may be numerous, but you can throw them into chaos and render them combat-ineffective." Li Su and Guo Ziyi grasped this principle profoundly.

If someone were to say that taking Caizhou was only possible thanks to the advantage of rain and snow, or that the Uyghurs would have submitted eventually anyway — then would not those two men have been in mortal peril?

In truth, it was because Wu Yuanji, overconfident in his city's strong defenses, had grown lax in his precautions, and because Li You served as an inside agent;

and because Guo Ziyi had long commanded such authority and trust that men yielded to him, while the various Uyghur tribes had long lacked a unified command.

Strike when you can strike, advance when you can advance — Li Su and Guo Ziyi planned thoroughly, knew themselves and knew their enemies. What room was there for doubt?

Thus, defeating the enemy does not rely on brute force; the value of using troops lies in the unexpected.

And in devising an unexpected stratagem, one must first rely on wisdom and insight to penetrate the enemy's situation; then the enemy will be confounded by my wisdom.

By applying the art of war with ingenuity, the enemy will submit to my strength.

Otherwise, both sides alike cling to life and dread death, both desire victory and fear defeat — their mindsets are the same. Why then is the final outcome, in victory or defeat, life or death, as far apart as heaven and earth?

From this we can see that military force is not the decisive factor.

Do not let your unexpected stratagems be shackled by convention, nor let your wisdom be harmed by convention.

In that subtle contest between ourselves and the enemy, there are always certain unique insights that cannot be shared with outsiders, and even after victory cannot be clearly explained to others.

Thus, Han Xin dared to take risks and did not feel endangered; Wang Ba dared to "lie" and did not feel it was taboo; Li Su dared to drive his lone army deep and did not feel he would be encircled; Guo Ziyi dared to go alone and did not feel it was rash; Zhou Yu and Xie Xuan struck the many with the few and did not feel afraid.

What others saw as a dead end, they could find a path to survival within; what others saw as certain defeat, they could turn defeat into victory.

When the dust finally settled, those situations that had seemed frozen were broken open, those armies that had seemed timid were steadied; the men of their time credited them, and later generations have passed down their wisdom without fading.

Ah, this is probably what is meant by "the unexpected."

In my humble opinion, Han Xin and those other famous generals were certainly prodigies of the unexpected in warfare, but they fall short of Guo Ziyi's "unexpected," and even further short of Wang Ba's "great unexpected."

Why do I say this?

Because Han Xin and the others prevailed by precisely calculating the relative strengths of both sides and then using wisdom to win — this is the "unexpected" of intellect.

Guo Ziyi, however — had he not been renowned for his loyalty and righteousness in ordinary times and deeply won the hearts of men, those foreign tribesmen would never have trusted him; it would have been tantamount to handing the knife-handle to the enemy.

As for Wang Ba, he used the lie that "the river has frozen" to steady his army's morale, and in the end the river actually did freeze — could he have been absolutely certain of that?

Therefore, Guo Ziyi, finding himself in a death trap, was able to succeed by relying on the authority and trustworthiness he had accumulated over his lifetime. This was victory through virtue, not relying on wisdom alone — this is the "unexpected" on a higher plane!

And Wang Ba's deed was Heaven's response to his virtue; the outcome exceeded what human effort could control. This ought not to be called "unexpected" — it ought to be called "divine"!

I dare not aspire to Heaven's special favor, for that concerns the fate of the entire realm and is not something an individual can influence.

But we can take our model from what lies within our own power: to make loyalty and righteousness the root of our hearts, and to use that to constantly spur ourselves on.

Our dynasty's Emperor is ordained by Heaven, in an age of restoration; his prestige extends across the four seas, and men both within the court and beyond turn their hearts to him in allegiance.

The strategic garrisons and the various levels of government offices are all like pieces on a chessboard, each fulfilling its function, with laws and discipline strict and clear.

In this way, rebels like Wang Lang and Long Ju have no room to stir up chaos; with the various levels of administration — prefectures, ministries, provincial commands, and surveillance circuits — interlinked by chains of authority, treacherous villains like Wu Yuanji and Cao Cao have no place to hide; with frontier fortifications established, troops garrisoned, ramparts raised high, and beacon-fires rigorously maintained, external threats like the Uyghurs and Fu Jian have no opening to exploit.

This is precisely an era when our dynasty's governance is pure and luminous, when Heaven and man are in resonance; the foundation for the realm's enduring peace and recuperation can be firmly established.

The martial achievements of our forebears and the stability of our external borders have already laid a solid foundation for us — what need is there to deliberately speak of "unexpected stratagems"? What need to recruit strategists or make a display of military might?

But since Your Excellency wishes me to expound what I have learned, in order to examine my aspirations, I hold that the men mentioned above were all great generals of their age, and I dare not pass presumptuous judgment on them.

Yet if I must choose among them, Guo Ziyi, with his person of loyalty and righteousness, was bound up with the safety of the Great Tang for twenty years; moreover, he too rose through the military examination, somewhat similar to my own path of advancement today. Therefore, I most desire to become a man like Guo Ziyi.

However, in my heart I harbor an even higher pursuit.

I hold that in the art of war, if one cannot produce the unexpected, one is not fit to defeat the enemy; but in the heart of a subject, if one cannot walk the path of rectitude, one is not fit to assist one's sovereign.

Mastery of both the mind's art and the art of war — that is the mark of a supreme commander.

If one inclines to one side, one has not yet reached the ultimate, and can only be ranked a middling commander.

Only when the heart is purely upright, and the stratagems of war issue naturally from the heart, in silent accord with the ancient sages of war — only then can one produce the unexpected and prevail, and be acclaimed by all under heaven as "using troops as though divine." This is the supreme commander among supreme commanders.

Guo Ziyi, for all his brilliance, had not yet reached this realm; I fear only the ancient Jiang Ziya could stand as his equal in this.

I have seen recorded in the histories the admonitions on "reverence and righteousness, indolence and laxity," and I also know that the unexpected stratagems of the "Six Secret Teachings" are essential reference for all who discuss warfare, ancient or modern.

The mind's art and the art of war truly ought to be combined.

The Six Secret Teachings says: "There are commanders who can command a hundred men, commanders who can command a thousand men, commanders who can command ten thousand men, and commanders who can command a million men."

This precisely corroborates my earlier classification of commanders into upper, middle, and lower tiers.

The old saying goes: "Aim for the highest, and you will attain the middle."

This is the aspiration of men like us. If one can unite the mind of unexpected stratagems with the path of uprightness and honor, then the realization of one's great ambitions will not be far off.