Chapter 562: Grievance

"What does it matter if Fang Wang scurries east and west? For every state he draws into a vertical alliance, I'll bind one to us with a horizontal pact — and shatter his league!"

These past few days, Feng Yan had been brimming with pride. He was a man who slipped easily into a role, as though he and Fang Wang were the Zhang Yi and Gongsun Yan of the age. Bearing not a single weapon, clad in plain white robes and a white cap, they laid out arguments and weighed the stakes. Cities that generals could only take by mobilizing armies and waging war — these they seized effortlessly with a mere three inches of glib tongue. Was that not the mark of a true great man?

As the State of Wei swept across the north, the number of independent warlords dwindled with each one crushed — which meant glory was getting harder and harder to scrape together. That was why Feng Yan had sharpened his wits and staked everything on proving himself through diplomacy, planting more banners of authority wherever he could. More banners meant more formations, more funding — and more power.

Of course, compared to the past, Feng Yan had now learned to dress his words in prettier phrases: "Still, though my wrath may set the lords trembling and my repose may still the realm, I am no more than a fox borrowing the tiger's might. Feng Yan — a mere fox. The Wei Son of Heaven — the tiger!"

Yet for all his pride in his silver tongue, there were places even Feng Yan could not sway. Threaten or tempt as he might, Qin Feng, the King of Chuli, still refused to relinquish power at once and follow Feng Yan north to "pay homage" to Diwu Lun. Qin Feng, it seemed, still wished to remain a warlord in Nan Commandery, offering the northern Emperor only nominal deference.

After several fruitless attempts at persuasion, Feng Yan had no choice but to ease off. In the memorial he drafted to Diwu Lun, he explained that pressing Qin Feng too hard might drive him to defect back to the Han. If that allowed Feng Yi's Han forces to seize Xiangyang, it would ruin His Majesty's grand strategy.

When word arrived from Cen Peng, Feng Yan suspected nothing. General Cen had insisted all along that Qin Feng come out of Xiangyang in person to greet him, but Qin Feng, wary that Cen Peng meant him harm, had kept hesitating. Feng Yan thus became the go-between for the two. Since Qin Feng could not be moved on his end, Feng Yan was also eager to meet Cen Peng and persuade the General Who Guards the South to yield a step.

Qin Feng had originally kept Feng Yan in the city as a hostage. Cen Peng's prolonged encampment at Fancheng, just across the Han River, had left him uneasy. With mutual suspicion now so deep that only Feng Yan could dispel it, he had no choice but to let Feng Jingtong leave the city.

By the time Feng Yan reached the Han River crossing, the pontoon bridge had been fully repaired. The Wei army's vanguard was filing across in succession, taking over the grain and fodder the King of Chuli had stockpiled in the dock warehouses. But instead of pushing straight south, they turned and advanced westward — their objective the ridge twenty li west of Xiangyang: Mount Atou.

Mount Atou was Xiangyang's western screen and the commanding height on the southern bank. It was also called Longshan — a high ridge stretching nine li, within which lay a village named Longzhong. Nestled beside flowing water, it could garrison troops and store provisions. Since Qin Feng, using the excuse of soldiers disturbing the people, refused to open Xiangyang, the Wei army would make Longzhong their southern base.

Feng Yan had assumed that, given his merits and standing, Cen Peng would come in person to the southern bank to meet him. To his chagrin, after waiting half the day, only a colonel arrived, sent by the General Who Guards the South to "invite" him across to the northern bank. A flicker of displeasure stirred in Feng Yan's heart — but who was he to object? Diwu Lun had personally issued an edict concentrating all southern command authority in Cen Peng's hands. Even he, one of the Nine Ministers, had to fall in line. He could only board a carriage and cross the river.

Fortunately, Cen Peng did not make things too awkward for him. Cen Peng was personally directing the Han River crossing, standing with his colonels atop the northern embankment. Through his far-seeing lens, he spotted Feng Yan from a great distance, trudging over under the spring sun. He shifted a few steps to meet old Feng.

"Director of the Grand Messengers."

Feng Yan eyed the "far-seeing lens" in the hands of Cen Peng's guards with a touch of envy. That novel gadget was practically a symbol of the Emperor's favor. The only generals to receive one were Ma, Cen, and young Geng — three men in all. Even Wu Han had been denied one.

Diwu Lun had also issued various ministers fish-tallies granting unsearched entry to the palace for audiences, each kept in a goldfish pouch and bearing a serial number. As a veteran elder, Feng Yan's fish-tally number was eleven — fairly high. But by all guesses, Cen Peng's ranked within the top five...

With that gap in status, Feng Yan could only swallow his petty displeasure and cup his hands toward Cen Peng. "The grain, fodder, and civilian laborers the General Who Guards the South requires — Qin Feng and Deng Feng have prepared them all. Word has it that the Cheng fleet has already broken through Yiling and begun besieging Jiangling. The Han army under Feng Yi, meanwhile, has pushed up the Han River, smashing through Jingling and passing Lan kou Hamlet. He is now less than two hundred li from Xiangyang — five or six days at the swiftest. Speed is the soul of war. Why does the General not march his troops south to meet the enemy?"

Feng Yan had by now learned to read Diwu Lun's mind. He had realized that His Imperial Majesty never took petty powers like the King of Chuli seriously at all. Every disposition was aimed at the greatest foe: the Han Emperor, Liu Xiu.

So for this campaign, Diwu Lun had long since given his directive: the Wei army's objective was to stop Feng Yi from seizing Jingzhou and Xiangyang. As for Qin Feng and Deng Feng — they were mere rabbits caught while beating the brush, incidental gains. Annihilation was not imperative; drawing them in as allies would be better.

Cen Peng, however, evaded the subject, speaking instead as if lost in recollection. "Lan kou Hamlet — Feng Yi marches swiftly indeed. I remember, back when I followed Lord Yan, Erudite, south on campaign against the Greenwood, it was at Lan kou Hamlet that we fought a battle."

Feng Yan knew that battle well, of course. It was Cen Peng's claim to fame — a forced march that cut off the Greenwood's Xiajiang troops as they fled south. Men like Wang Chang and Ma Wu, now pillars of the Eastern Han, had been battered into submission by him, forced to abandon their southern designs. They rose in arms around Mount Jing instead, intending to link up with Qin Feng of the Greenwood, but were so cowed they shrank back into the mountains.

Cen Peng continued, "A pity, though — in that battle, the victor truly lost, and the vanquished truly won. Does the Director of the Grand Messengers know why?"

Was it not because the Xin dynasty was too rotten, its local government so corrupt that the Xiajiang troops, after retreating north, replenished their ranks massively, merged with the Liu clan of Chongling, and threw Nanyang into utter chaos?

But today Cen Peng had no wish to dissect those deeper causes. He summed it up simply: "Because while the soldiers fought to the death on the front lines, disaster struck in the rear. I had plunged deep into Jingzhou with an isolated force, never imagining that behind me, in Nanyang, the Chongling troops would rise in mischief and take several cities in succession..."

Even Cen Peng's entire family had been slaughtered in the chaos wrought by the Greenwood and Chongling forces. Only his sole son had escaped.

Feng Yan understood Cen Peng's meaning at once. Instinctively, he moved to defend the peace he had labored so hard to create. "General Cen, times have changed. Jingzhou and Xiangyang are already meat in our mouths. Let us first make use of Chu's manpower and resources. After we defeat Feng Yi, we can seize them in one stroke — there will be no delay."

"Too ravenous to wait."

Cen Peng patted his belly and laughed.

"What's more, I fear this meat may turn into a thorn!"

"Director of the Grand Messengers, three broken arms make a good physician." Cen Peng laid out his true meaning. "Back then, I was a mere colonel. I could only watch helplessly as the rear rotted and dragged down the front line, powerless to reverse it. But today, trusted by His Majesty as a theater commander, I will never, ever leave any hidden peril behind the army's back again!"

Feng Yan opened his mouth to reason further. He could understand Cen Peng's concerns, but for a freshly negotiated peaceful surrender to suddenly turn into a Wei sneak attack — what kind of business was that?

Of course, in chaotic times, breaking faith was a daily affair. But this would make a laughingstock of all Feng Yan's efforts. The Office of the Grand Messengers would be left in a very awkward position!

At that moment, Zhang Yu, who had kept silent for a long while, spoke up at the perfect time, presenting several pieces of so-called "evidence." "Director of the Grand Messengers, Qin Feng and Deng Feng refuse to open their cities and guard against us as if facing a great foe. The grain and fodder they collected is largely adulterated with sand and soil to make weight. Deng Feng, moreover, has sent men to spread word through the surrounding villages that the grain levies and labor drafts are all the Wei army's doing — to sow discord between us and the people! And though Qin Feng seized the Han envoy Deng Chen, he still holds him in Xiangyang and refuses to hand him over to the Embroidered Uniform Guard. From all these signs, their surrender is a sham, beyond doubt!"

Feng Yan was even more stunned now. He looked at Cen Peng — the general silently confirmed it. What a piece of work. Now the blame was dumped squarely on Director Feng's head: so it turned out he was too dull-witted to see through Qin Feng and Deng Feng's false surrender?

They had surrendered, but not completely — was that not a perfectly normal state of affairs? Feng Yan was so furious he nearly coughed blood. For all their high-sounding words, was there not a shred of selfish motive here? Look at Zhang Yu's shifty, rat-like face. The Embroidered Uniform Guard, an organ combining intelligence, espionage, and surveillance, held modest official rank but a broad remit. It overlapped heavily with the Grand Messengers' office. In such situations, the two departments put on a show of harmonious cooperation before Diwu Lun, but behind the scenes, their rivalry and turf wars were fierce.

And Cen Peng? He bore the strong regional stamp of the "Nanyang clique" and was an old friend of the Grand Minister of Agriculture, Ren Guang. Facing someone like himself, a man of Duling in Guanzhong, might Cen Peng not also be playing factional politics — siding with his own and attacking outsiders?

The more Feng Yan thought, the more it multiplied. He felt that Cen Peng and Zhang Yu had colluded to play him for a fool. They had used his persuasion to trick open the Denglin and Han River defense lines. Now that the great peril was safely passed, they turned on him without a shred of gratitude.

These two had not merely launched a sudden strike against Qin Feng — they had suddenly dealt him, Feng Yan, a savage slap across the face!

But Feng Yan was no longer the man he had been. After swallowing defeat a few times, he had learned to endure. He could only choke down the blood and broken teeth in his mouth and force a smile. "Since His Majesty has entrusted the southern campaign solely to General Cen, and further instructed me that all military affairs are to follow the command of the General Who Guards the South — whatever decision the General makes, Feng Yan shall of course obey. I only wonder, how is this battle to be fought next?"

"Ten thousand rear-guard troops have already encircled Shandu County upriver. Once it falls, the fleet will sail downstream and join the twenty-thousand-strong main force at Fancheng. Following the example of Bai Qi's massacre at Deng, we shall first turn around and pluck out Deng County, removing the thorn from our back."

Cen Peng then pointed south. "Our vanguard of ten thousand will occupy Longzhong on Mount Atou, holding the heights and pressing close to Xiangyang, so that Qin Feng dares not send out relief. Once the hidden peril in our rear is eliminated, the three armies will converge to take Xiangyang."

Hearing this, Feng Yan wanted only to laugh — to laugh out loud. Because in his eyes, this plan was...

Utterly foolish!

Riddled with holes!

Feng Yan's face flickered between shadow and light. He felt Cen Peng was far too arrogant. Three cities — county towns all, but each garrisoned by anywhere from several thousand to nearly ten thousand defenders. Cen Peng's forces were split among three locations, with only a two-to-one advantage. Was he truly so confident of taking them easily?

And Cen Peng had overlooked the most critical point of all: the Han army to the south — Feng Yi!

In theory, the farther Feng Yi pushed up the Han River, the farther he left Jiangxia behind, the harder his supply lines became. He also had to overcome the obstacles of several walled cities. Two hundred li — that would take ten days to a fortnight of fighting.

But if, after being attacked by the Wei army, Qin Feng flew into a rage, released Deng Chen, and turned around to make peace with the Han, borrowing Han troops to strike at Wei — then five days. Feng Yi could reach the walls of Xiangyang in five days!

By then, with Cen Peng's forces divided among three locations, he might not have taken a single city. Caught between hammer and anvil, he would likely suffer a crushing defeat! Did he intend to imitate Ma Yuan at the River Ji decisive battle and attempt a "blossom from the center"?

Feng Yan thought darkly to himself: "His Majesty often says that Cen Peng, like himself, was a disciple of Yan Erudite and received the true transmission of the art of war. But from the look of things now, he's nothing special. In my view, Cen Peng's generalship falls short not only of the Sage Son of Heaven, but even of the Duke of Zhou, Dou Rong."

Had they been discussing matters amicably, Feng Yan would have been quite happy to play the teacher and point out the absurd dangers of this plan. But now, seeing Cen Peng's arbitrary high-handedness, his own temper flared. He suddenly clutched his forehead, frowned, and cried out, "After days of rushing about, the southern heat and damp have unsettled me. My head ailment has returned. Since General Cen has already made up his mind, I imagine there is nothing further for the Office of the Grand Messengers to do. I, Feng, request only to return north to Luoyang ahead of the rest, to report the situation here to the Sage Son of Heaven."

Clutching his head, he climbed into the carriage. Only when the carriage began to move did he furiously pound fist into palm, growing angrier the more he brooded.

"Cen Peng is bent on having his own way. My earnest dissuasions have failed. The matter of armed conflict on the front is beyond salvaging. Cen Peng may at any moment suffer a devastating pincer attack from the Han, Chu, and even the Cheng forces from Hanzhong. I must speed word of this to the Emperor, so that we may yet recover something through strategic planning and diplomacy. Even if we cannot seize Xiangyang this time, we must at least hold Nanyang!"

To put it bluntly, since Cen and Zhang insisted on hogging the credit, then he, Feng, would simply dust off his backside and leave early — to avoid being saddled with the blame afterward.

At this thought, Feng Yan could only sigh at the world's hardships. Back when Zhang Yi forged his horizontal alliances, he must have suffered no small interference from the Qin ducal clan and generals at home, no?

His heart brimming with grievance, he recited a poem with deep feeling: "Ah, only those factional men delight in their pleasures — the path ahead is dark, narrow, and perilous. It is not that I fear calamity for my own person — I dread the overturning of the imperial chariot!"

At this line, tears soaked the lapels of his robe. Feng Yan's voice gradually sank low: "I hasten back and forth, now ahead, now behind — striving to follow in the footsteps of the former kings."

Ah, how this carriage jolts.

Watching Feng Yan's carriage depart, Zhang Yu felt only regret. "General Cen has been far too kind to Feng Yan. Originally, we could have kept him entirely in the dark about the specifics and launched the surprise attack directly. There might even have been a chance to storm into Xiangyang at once..."

That way, Feng Yan could have "died in an accident," sparing General Cen the thankless task of offending him. Now, letting him scurry back to Luoyang, he would surely tattle before the Emperor, spewing a torrent of slander against Cen Peng and Zhang Yu.

Zhang Yu obliquely expressed this intent, making it clear he stood with Cen Peng. Cen Peng, for his part, was unconcerned: "Every disposition in this campaign has already been reported to His Majesty via memorial. The plan is indeed risky — a few slanderous letters will actually be a good thing."

Zhang Yu nodded. "Still, the General's strategy is somewhat peculiar."

Indeed, Cen Peng's tactic of deliberately leaping into an encirclement carried enormous drawbacks.

"If I did not do this, how could I lure Feng Yi into overextending his lone force?"

Cen Peng revealed the true intent he had concealed when facing Feng Yan, and cupped his hands toward the north. "His Majesty is considerate toward his commanders. Every edict he issues invariably takes the minimum objective as the standard."

This was a lesson Diwu Lun had learned after the He-Ji campaign nearly cost Ma Yuan his life — no longer seeking total or flawless victory in war, but instead advancing steadily and pushing forward step by step. Especially on the Jingzhou front, Cen Peng's capture of Xiangyang would already count as a victory.

"But how can we be content with that alone? How can we not share our sovereign's burdens?"

At Xiangyang, Cen Peng had seen an opportunity — a chance to advance the timetable for Diwu Lun's unification of the south by at least two or three years!

"The art of war says: strike where he must hasten, attack where he must take!"

"The quarry this time is not merely Xiangyang, but also Feng Yi and the main force of the Han army's western route under his command."

"And Xiangyang on the Han River is precisely the trap to hunt down Feng Gongsun in one stroke!"