Chapter 338: Rumors Spread Everywhere

The situation across the land has changed; the layout in Guanzhong must accelerate its progress.

We lack roots there and can only rely on local anti-Yu forces.

Whatever the rebel army lacks, provide it to them.

At all costs, throw Guanzhong into chaos!

Wei Hao said with a serious expression.

Plotting for Guanzhong is a long-term strategy; his immediate goal remains seizing Shu.

To carve out Shu, one must first take Hanzhong—this is the wisdom passed down by our ancestors.

The southeastern rebels have suffered setbacks, and the situation is precarious; he must hasten his pace.

Once Wu and Chu fall, the court’s strategic focus will shift to Shu.

Your Highness, rest assured—I will handle this personally.

Within half a year, I will stir up an anti-Yu uprising across Guanzhong!

Xu Yanyu immediately pledged.

Since the rebels entered Shu, Shaanxi has strengthened its defenses of Hanzhong.

Unless Guanzhong is in chaos, seizing Hanzhong is nearly impossible.

Without Hanzhong, carving out Shu is a joke.

…

Beneath Wuchang, the charge horns sounded once more.

Wang Weijiarui could no longer recall how many times they had attacked; the earth had long been dyed red.

The corpses of fallen soldiers filled one boat after another.

The brutal war had numbed Wang Weijiarui.

To him, soldier deaths were merely cold statistics.

In chaotic times, human lives were the cheapest thing.

When soldiers died, recruit more from the populace.

For victory, he would pay any price.

Your Highness, night has fallen; it is time to sound the retreat.

Fang Kecheng gently reminded him.

Under the policy of relentless assault, many units assigned to siege duty began the day fully manned and ended it half-depleted.

Even if personnel losses were swiftly replaced, the damage to morale was irreversible.

No matter what kind of unit, once dragged onto the battlefield for a single engagement, it was effectively ruined.

Restoring their fighting spirit could not be achieved merely by replacing men.

The first to be lost were naturally the peripheral armed forces.

Past sources of instability had been largely consumed in the great battles.

This use of others’ blades to kill enemies was flawless.

But this was not what Wang Weijiarui wanted.

Eliminating rivals offered plenty of opportunities; there was no need to sacrifice so many troops.

Issue orders: sound the retreat.

Tell logistics to distribute extra alcohol and meat to soothe the troops.

Wang Weijiarui spoke with a complex expression.

By now, the war had left him with no retreat.

Either fight hard and win the Battle of Wuchang—or lose and return as a bandit.

After stirring up such a storm, wherever he went next, the court would hunt him down with full force.

Countless men waited to use his head to advance their careers.

Your servant, at your command!

Fang Kecheng replied without hesitation.

Aside from soothing morale, there was little they could do now.

The imperial lines appeared on the verge of collapse, yet no matter how hard they attacked, they could not break through.

To see hope, then lose it—that was the cruelest thing.

…

Inside Wuchang.

The scent of roasting meat drifted from the rebel camps, stimulating the taste buds of the defenders.

Li Mu, patrolling the defenses, sensed something amiss.

Logically, after the war had stalled, the rebels’ logistics should have faltered.

Occasional improvements in rations—like stewed meat—were understandable.

But to do this day after day? Even wealthy Jiangxi could not supply so many livestock.

Issue orders: prepare food rations to supplement the defenders’ meals.

With suspicion, Li Mu gave the command.

The city had meat reserves, but not pork, beef, or mutton—the staple was fish.

And even this fish was salted.

Supplying fresh meat was only possible in a post-industrial age.

With current preservation technology, the cost of keeping meat fresh far exceeded the meat’s value.

Without pork, beef, or mutton, the imperial logistics still surpassed the rebels’.

The garrison farms grew cash crops, and the plant oils and sugar extracted were all sold to the imperial army.

During wartime, a daily ration of one tael of oil per man—37.3 grams—was more than sufficient to satisfy everyone in this era.

Even if the rebels had eaten meat for days, it only stirred hunger, not yet shaken morale.

Aye!

Wu Dagé immediately sent men to relay the order.

…

Uncle, the rebels’ logistics are suspicious—they cannot possibly have this much meat.

The chance to break their morale has arrived.

Inform those families—it’s time for them to act!

Back in the command tent, Li Mu immediately told Li Yuan.

As the imperial forces gained the upper hand, more families were willing to pay for their lives.

This was the price of failed opportunism.

But paying money alone was not enough—they must sever ties with the rebels.

Are you suggesting the rebels are eating people?

Li Yuan asked with a grave expression.

In chaotic times, cannibalism was not unheard of.

But it was always rare; large-scale cannibalism occurred mainly during the Wei-Jin and Five Dynasties periods.

In modern times, with the spread of Confucian culture, the practice had been banned.

The Yu legal code explicitly stated: those who eat people shall die!

Hundreds of thousands of soldiers eating people—such moral collapse in reality was too horrifying to believe.

Aside from this explanation, there is no plausible source for the rebels’ meat.

Even if the rebel Wang had requisitioned every livestock in Jiangxi and Zhejiang, it could not sustain such waste.

Likely, some within the rebel camp have already sensed something is wrong.

If we leak this news, chaos will erupt within their ranks.

With our inside agents stirring things further, even if full-scale mutiny doesn’t occur, enemy morale will be shaken.

If all goes well, we will break them within days.

As he spoke, Li Mu’s eyes glinted with cold light.

After years in the military, this was the first time he wanted to kill.

He had seen many acts of tyranny, but never one so blatantly crossing the line.

If not crushed with thunderous force, countless others would follow.

Good—I’ll arrange it immediately!

Li Yuan nodded.

Challenging the line was intolerable not just to Li Mu, but to him as well.

Their eyes met; each understood the other’s intent—they would kill without mercy.

All participants must be executed.

The remaining rebel soldiers must be tightly guarded after the battle.

…

Rebel camp.

Young Master Qi, this is a letter from home.

Fang Kecheng took the secret letter from his attendant and opened it in front of the two maids.

As expected, it was filled with nothing but daily pleasantries.

“Go prepare some hot water—I’m going to bathe.”

After dismissing his spies, Fang Kecheng spilled tea onto the letter, revealing a row of tiny characters on its back.

After reading the letter, he hesitated not at all, and immediately held it to a candle to burn.

Having completed the cover-up, Fang Kecheng quickly regained his composure.

Serving in Chu was not an accident—it was all arranged by his family behind the scenes.

Betting on multiple sides—that’s the standard tactic of great clans.

The name and identity he now uses are entirely forged; the real Fang Kecheng died long ago.

According to the scripted plan, he will live out his life as Fang Kecheng.

Even if a new dynasty rises, he must never reclaim his true identity.

After establishing merit and power, he will use his authority to secretly protect his family.

In return, his relatives within the clan will receive focused cultivation and support.

Even if the faction he has joined loses the chaos for supremacy, his family will not be implicated.

Yet all of this was shattered the moment the letter arrived.

The clan’s covert actions have been discovered by the court; now they demand he sever ties with the rebels.

After all, it was Fang Kecheng who joined the treason—nothing to do with me, Yang Mou.

Theoretically, once he completes this mission, he can resume his former identity and return to his old life.

But this is only theoretical.

In Chu, he is the powerful Minister of War, his word deciding the life or death of countless others.

Back in his clan, he is merely a destitute scholar.

Perhaps the elders, remembering his service, will reward him with some land or wealth afterward—but his life will never compare to what he has now.

If he’s unlucky, he may die in the rebel armies before even returning to his clan.

“Ah!”

With a sigh, Fang Kecheng made his reluctant decision.

It wasn’t that he wished to betray the King of Chu—it was the King himself who courted death.

Military defeat can still be reversed, with a chance at resurgence.

Since ancient times, no one has ever seized the realm without hardship.

Suffering setbacks along the way is the norm.

But once a man’s heart is lost, it can never be regained.

To use human flesh as rations—such a dark secret—has now been exposed by the court.

Once such a thing comes to light, the label of “Great Demon King” will cling to him forever.

No enlightened soul in the realm will ever join such a disgraced lord.

This is no longer an age of moral decay; from the moment the leak occurred, the King of Chu’s claim to the realm was doomed.

…

Fang Kecheng was not the only one suffering in torment; many high officers in the Chu army were locked in fierce inner struggles.

Wang Weijiarui had treated them with genuine kindness.

He humbled himself before scholars, granted them every privilege, and they were deeply satisfied with their status and position in Chu.

Had no sudden upheaval occurred, they would likely have followed this “enlightened lord” for life.

Even if they failed to seize the realm, they would have fought with glory—no waste of their learning.

But reality offers no “what ifs.”

On one side stood the King of Chu who let them fulfill their ambitions; on the other, their birth clan.

Now caught between them, whichever choice they made meant betraying one side.

…

Deep night, in the rebel camp.

“Have any of you noticed the meat tastes strange these past few days?”

“It’s not pork, not mutton, and certainly not beef!”

The young man’s words immediately drew everyone’s attention.

They had noticed the meat tasted odd too.

Serving in the Chu army was a hard lot.

Coarse grains barely filled their bellies; meat was out of the question.

It wasn’t that the King of Chu was stingy—there were simply too many troops, and domestic animal husbandry was underdeveloped.

The limited meat supply went first to the officers above.

These soldiers might get meat only once a month.

When rations improved, they usually got only a bowl of meat broth.

“Zhang Lao Si, you’ve eaten too much and are just being picky.”

“If it’s not pork or mutton, you think it’s beef? Like you’ve ever eaten beef.”

“Who cares what kind of meat it is? In these times, having meat at all is the greatest fortune.”

“If not for the Prince’s mercy, we wouldn’t even get this!”

A companion nearby scolded him.

Living at the bottom of the army, long deprived of meat, they were just glad to eat anything—no thought given to what it was.

“Wang Qi, you can’t say that.”

“Zhang Lao Si isn’t wrong—the meat really does taste off.”

“Have you noticed how few of the veteran soldiers are eating?”

“I’ve seen them secretly vomiting, like they ate something revolting.”

No sooner had the bearded man spoken than the men’s faces turned pale.

They had seen similar scenes before.

At first they hadn’t thought anything of it—but now, with others pointing it out, the unease struck them instantly.

“Besides pork, mutton, and beef, it can’t be horse meat, can it?”

“Those are treasures—no one would dare eat them.”

“Maybe we should ask Old Liu from next door—he’s old and experienced, he might know…”

Wang Qi stopped mid-sentence, suddenly realizing something was wrong.

Old Liu, who had always been so lively, had grown silent these past few days.

Once so eager to eat, now he dragged his feet at every meal.

He had even mocked Old Liu for eating slowly.

“Brother Wang, the meat these past few days really is strange.”

“Once I bit into a bone—it looked like a finger. You remember…?”

The moment the thin youth spoke, every face turned deathly white.

Cannibalism in famine years was a legend.

These men had grown up in Huguang and Jiangxi—fertile lands where life was relatively good.

Besides farming, they could find work elsewhere; their prospects far exceeded those of people in other regions.

Even in famine years, their situation was better than elsewhere—they’d never reached the point of trading children for food.

After the war broke out, they either joined the rebels willingly or were forced into it.

Plundering gentry families kept them fed easily.

As long as they had enough to eat, their moral boundaries held.

To suddenly cross into cannibalism flew in the face of everything they’d been taught.

In an instant, several men grew nauseous and began vomiting.

Similar scenes played out again and again throughout the camp.

The rumor of cannibalism spread rapidly, turning the camp into a frenzy.

The flood of rumors quickly caught the attention of the rebel commanders.

By noon the next day, the news had reached the King of Chu.

…

The King of Chu’s tent.

“Who is spreading rumors in the camp?”

“Why didn’t you stop them immediately?”

Wang Weijiarui asked, his voice lacking conviction.

Rumors aren’t dangerous—the truth is the sharp blade.

Using human flesh as rations was a top-secret military matter, known to only a handful.

Now, with this chaos, everyone knows the truth.

“Your Highness, we tried to debunk the rumors, but it had no effect.”

Or should we open the storage depot and let the soldiers go inside to inspect it, to calm their hearts?

Fang Kecheng offered a rotten idea without changing expression.

(End of Chapter)