Chapter 701: Turning Point

To be honest, Liu Shizi was completely stunned by the assassination attempt.

The attacker was a centurion named Deng De — very brave, wearing only a leather *yisan* robe, yet daring to carry out an assassination at a heavily guarded banquet.

But for all that bravery, Liu Shizi felt the man had probably trained his muscles right into his brain — he himself was wearing armor.

At a banquet for surrendered officers, there was no way he wouldn't take precautions; his subordinate commanders weren't even allowed to drink, everyone was fully armed, and they hadn't even removed the carrying belts that held their bows, blades, and firearms.

The surrendered officers, on the other hand, had all removed their armor and weapons — only one battalion commander had been permitted to keep his saber.

Still, this really did catch him off guard.

Sun Tzu's Art of War says: when precautions are thorough, vigilance slackens; what is commonplace raises no suspicion.

Liu Chengzong was no exception — having made every possible preparation, he'd put it on open display for all to see.

In his mind, he thought there was no way some great fool would come to assassinate him... he hadn't thought anyone would try to assassinate him in the first place.

Assassination?

The success rate of that sort of thing was far too low; hardly anyone in the Marshal's army would even think of it.

Everyone knew the Grand Marshal hadn't risen from some peasant foot soldier — his martial foundation wasn't just pure battlefield combat; he'd learned far too many unique secret techniques. Even the most formidable opponent would have a hard time getting the better of him in a single exchange.

What soldiers train for battlefield combat is skill, with standardized ways to measure proficiency.

Bows shoot far and true, spears are held level and thrust straight, blades chop and slash and stab — as long as it's practical in the face of the enemy, there's no emphasis on set routines or named moves. It's all about practice making perfect; drill day after day, and on the battlefield, you strike fast, accurate, and ruthless, cutting wherever you point.

Holding a fifteen- or sixteen-foot long pike, all you need is to hold it level and thrust forward accurately. Whether someone crouches down and slips beneath the formation is not the pikeman's concern, nor is it his job — the swordsmen and shield-bearers will deal with him.

The techniques of folk martial arts are different. Cheng Chongdou's Two-Path Blade Method, Qi Jiguang's Thirty-Two Posture Fist Method — beyond drilling specialized skills, these consider the isolated environment of one-against-many, are more comprehensive, and contain certain tricks.

For instance, some martial arts teach concealed weapons, specializing in the mother-and-son blade — what looks like a single goose-quill saber can actually, damn it, be drawn into two blades, one long and one short.

Or some folk boxing styles specialize in three target paths: stomping the foot, kicking the groin, gouging the eyes — all aimed at instantly stripping the enemy of combat ability.

These tricks are all built on a foundation of skill — specialized methods developed for specific environments and specific purposes.

Take Gao Xian from the Marshal's Mansion, for example. To serve as an envoy, he raised a group of household retainers and once developed a martial technique: inside an iron arm-guard was a flintlock tube, which Liu Chengzong named "Point-Whoever-Dies."

That contraption was incredibly troublesome to load with powder and shot, required daily maintenance, and its trigger was connected to a thumb-ring worn on the thumb. It could only fire one shot, its accurate range was a mere seven or eight paces, and you had to flip the flintlock mechanism on the arm-guard in advance to cock it.

But if prepared ahead of time, all you had to do was give the target a thumbs-up in praise, then point forward — and you could open fire and send him straight to the Western Paradise.

That martial art wasn't easy to train, though — like the damn Iron Sand Palm, the muzzle blast from the tube could easily scorch your hand, so you had to wear arrow-sleeve clothing.

When Gao Xian was dispatched to the southern desert to demarcate grazing lands, he'd just come up with a new move: fixing the tube onto a heart-protector mirror inside his robe, so that by turning sideways to face someone and putting a hand on his hip, he could finish them off.

Liu Chengzong's martial skill, however, was somewhat different from both of these. Not only was his core martial skill outstanding — he could wield all manner of weapons with proficiency — he'd also learned a pile of unorthodox tricks. Any one of them, pulled out at random, was something an opponent on the battlefield had never seen before.

A life-or-death fight is no martial arts demonstration. One move you've never seen, and if you don't react in time, you're dead.

This was a ruthless character who, even in a state of prolonged starvation, could grab any weapon and slaughter his way through a county office. Three or five Yulin cavalrymen couldn't take down one Grand Marshal. Chokhur, who led lancer cavalry in charges year-round, got beaten like a dog at the Xi'an Prefecture parade ground.

As long as there were no firearms, and no strong bow or crossbow bolt hit him in the face, how exactly was anyone supposed to kill him while he wore armor?

No one would think in terms of a lone assassin.

People's precautions were all against larger-scale scenarios.

Like an organized raid to cause chaos, releasing the warhorses to create mass disorder, coordinating with enemies outside to strike from within; or a fake surrender and sudden betrayal, getting them drunk and then chopping them to pieces.

In the end, Deng De was alone, and the most absurd part was that his first assassination target wasn't even Liu Chengzong.

Using a small meat-cutting knife meant as tableware, he slit the throat of the surrendered Battalion Commander Du who had brought him in, then hurled a wrist paring knife at Liu Chengzong while simultaneously drawing the battalion commander's saber.

Up to that moment, Liu Chengzong, like most people in the hall, had his brain short-circuited by the sight of Deng De killing his superior officer.

In fact, Liu Shizi was even a beat slower to react than the others.

Everyone else was just shocked, and then they grasped the situation.

Liu Shizi went through a process of shock, confidence, confusion, and then realization.

*"That man's got a knife and means to kill — let's see who he can kill... wait, no, why is the battalion commander's neck spraying blood? Oh, it's coming, it's coming — he's here to kill me."*

So much so that Liu Shizi genuinely didn't react to that flying knife, because Zhao Jifang, who was roasting mutton nearby, swung his iron skewer and deflected it.

Deng De raised his blade and charged toward Liu Chengzong at the head seat, casually cutting down another surrendered centurion along the way, leaving the unarmed surrendered officers so terrified they didn't know what to do with themselves.

But in the course of all this, Liu Shizi came to his senses.

He was faster than Deng De.

Lamb leg bone club in hand, he stepped onto the food table and lunged.

He vaulted past Zhao Jifang, who stood frozen after his almost divinely inspired deflection of the flying knife, smashed Deng De's blade aside with the club, and slammed into him with his entire body, shoulder-first.

It happened so fast that Zhang Yong, the Yulin Guard with a saber standing behind Liu Chengzong, was stunned.

The Yulin Guards were paired one old with one young, one veteran with one new recruit; today it happened to be Yue Wenkui and Zhang Yong's turn on duty.

He had been standing behind Liu Chengzong. When he saw Deng De grip his knife and slash the battalion commander's throat, he used his left thumb to push his own blade an inch out of its scabbard, gripped the hilt with his right hand, and stepped forward to shield Liu Chengzong's flank.

This position, together with Yue Wenkui, just happened to bracket both sides of the food table. One more step forward and a drawn blade, and they could intercept any assassin rushing at Liu Chengzong.

But just as he was drawing his blade, Liu Chengzong — over two hundred *jin* with man and armor combined — actually took an unconventional path, stepping onto the table and launching himself like a cannonball. He smashed the assassin's blade flying and sent the assassin hurtling backward even faster than he'd charged, crashing to the ground with more breath going out than coming in.

Zhang Yong froze for an instant, then hurried forward, stepping past Liu Chengzong, his blade tip sweeping forward as he scanned the crowd.

His attention barely lingered on Deng De lying on the ground, because in the instant the two had collided, he'd not only heard the clash of metal and stone as the lamb leg bone smashed the saber aside, and the chain of clatters as armor plates struck armor plates.

He'd also heard several crisp cracking sounds, like timber snapping.

That was the sound of ribs breaking.

The assassin wasn't going to survive.

After that, there was no one else in the hall acting suspiciously. The surrendered officers looked at each other in dismay, sitting in terror as they waited to be subdued by the brightly armored Yulin Guards. Facing Liu Chengzong, who had tossed aside the lamb leg bone and was frowning deeply, no one dared utter a word.

Only Deng De, coughing up bloody froth, hurled curses in a voice that rose and fell, hammering at the heart of every surrendered officer.

"Officers... all want to sell the city... save themselves... none consider the country... or the family... when I die and become a ghost... I won't let..."

Suddenly, a muffled groan — it seemed the words hurt his chest too much, and he could no longer speak.

Liu Chengzong furrowed his brow and lowered his eyes.

He saw Deng De, curled up on the ground, even unable to speak, still using his finger dipped in the bloody froth he'd coughed up to write characters on the floor.

"The City-Seller"

Liu Shizi could tell that Deng De had meant to write "the man who sold the city," but with his life ebbing away and his strength long spent, he could only scratch out a few crude strokes.

Deng De still stared fixedly at the men in the hall, his eyes growing more ferocious as pain wracked his body.

Every surrendered officer caught in his gaze hurriedly turned away, their eyes darting aside.

It seemed to carry a soul-shaking spiritual force, striking at every surrendered officer who had marched on the Surrender Marshal's Residence.

It even struck at Liu Chengzong.

But it had no effect on Liu Chengzong whatsoever.

He had seen too much of this.

Just like his ferocious body, which shattered the moment Liu Chengzong slammed into it.

He pushed aside Zhang Yong and Yue Wenkui, who were guarding his flanks, and stepped forward.

Not only did he use his own body to block Deng De's furious, eye-splitting glare, looking down at him from above, but he also set his boot on the blood-traced characters. The military boot, lined with armor plates, ground audibly, its sole smearing the strokes with ease.

"You have fulfilled every loyalty you owed. You died a fitting death."

With that, Liu Chengzong raised his head and swept his gaze across the hall, declaring: "Centurion Deng De, for insubordination and murdering my officer — strangle him."

"The slain Commander Du, posthumously promoted to Assistant Commander-in-Chief. The wounded Centurion Chen, promoted to Vice Commander and granted leave to recover. See that he is properly treated."

A single glance followed. Yue Wenkui nodded in acknowledgment but did not move. It was Zhang Yong who produced a heavy bow and dragged Deng De out.

Yue Wenkui had always been slow to react, and Liu Chengzong thought nothing of it.

The man hailed from Zhuanglang Garrison, a descendant of Yue Fei, from a line of hereditary officers.

When they attacked Longzhou, his elder brother Yue Wenyuan had been the first to spur his horse up the city wall, and later the first to charge into the prefectural yamen. Yue Wenyuan had thus been appointed Prefect of Longzhou.

When Liu Chengzong had asked Yue Wenkui what he wanted, he was slow to respond. It was Yue Wenyuan who answered for him — to follow at Liu Chengzong's side. And so he entered the Feathered Forest Camp.

Yet those slow to react often think and act with greater thoroughness.

Yue Wenkui was in no hurry. He had served as a junior officer in the Five Towns of He-Huang as far back as the He-Huang era, had worked alongside Liu Chengzong for a long time, and on this eastern campaign had attended him personally as a Feathered Forest guard.

He understood the Grand Marshal's conflicted heart, and knew even better that the Grand Marshal likely bore no great hatred for this assassin who had shattered at a single collision.

Of course, as an officer, orders must be obeyed. It was just that with certain dirty jobs, whether you did them or not, good or bad, it was hard to say.

So better not to scramble for it. Someone else would scramble to do it.

Zhang Yong was from Xi'an Prefecture, newly joined in the Marshal's army and young, eager to prove himself — perfect to let him handle it.

In truth, however, Liu Chengzong was not actually that conflicted about the matter.

If Deng De had been a little luckier — merely stunned by the bone club or subdued — then he might have considered sparing his life and throwing him into the Tai Meng Garrison.

But now the man had been smashed to the point where he could not survive. There was no need to consider anything further.

It was simply a case of getting exactly what you asked for, your wish fulfilled.

He wanted to contend for the realm — being assassinated was only right. Others, as Ming officers, assassinating him was also only right.

This was simply how this world was meant to be.

The surrendered officers still trembled with lingering fear. Liu Chengzong could tell from their expressions that Deng De's curse had struck them with devastating force.

He drew a deep breath, turned his head, and immediately scolded Zhao Jifang, who was still staring at the meat skewer: "You're the damn only one not wearing armor — what were you lunging forward for? Ten more of him couldn't kill me, but what if he'd stabbed you dead?"

Zhao Jifang felt utterly wronged.

Before I met you, I was studying at the county academy. After I met you, all I did was clerical work as a court gentleman. Forget fighting in battles — I've never even been in a brawl.

This is the first time in my life I've ever encountered something this thrilling.

How the hell was I supposed to know it was a blade? Something flew at me, so I blocked it, that's all. Didn't even think.

My heart's still pounding right now. Blocking it at all is pretty damn good, and you're scolding me!

But the target of a person's anger is often themselves; lashing outward is merely a means of venting.

Liu Chengzong looked Zhao Jifang up and down. Seeing no wounds on him, he said: "From now on, don't just wear a robe all day. You're no smarter than he was."

He thought to himself: This Deng De, brave as he was, was just too thick. I'm wearing armor that thick, and he thought he could assassinate me with a little broken knife?

By now, squads of garrison troops in armor were surging into the Guangwu Encampment's headquarters. Gao Yingdeng, responsible for the outer perimeter, came running in fully armored and helmeted. Seeing Liu Chengzong unharmed, he let out a breath of relief, then cast a hostile look at the surrendered officers in the hall. "Marshal, what shall we do?"

Liu Chengzong raised a hand to stop Gao Yingdeng, who was itching for a major crackdown, and said to Liu Fangming and Ma Xiantu at his side: "This matter was an accident. You have all had a fright tonight — there is no need for fear. Generals, please pacify the men on my behalf and escort the officers back to camp to rest."

"This Deng De's aim was simply to kill his superior. Let it also serve as a lesson. For the sake of your own lives, from now on, govern your subordinates strictly. Do not let such incidents happen again."

Liu Fangming and Ma Xiantu were themselves deeply uneasy. They wished to say something, but dared not open their mouths at such a moment.

Anyone could see that after the assassination attempt, Liu Chengzong was deliberately suppressing his emotions.

The two officers could only obey, and withdrew with the crowd of surrendered officers, taking their leave.

Once they were gone, Gao Yingdeng asked in puzzlement: "Why would he do that? If he wanted to assassinate his superior, he didn't have to pick today."

"Bullshit. He wanted to kill me!"

Liu Chengzong shot him a sidelong glance. "That was just a story to pacify the surrendered officers."

"Tonight, keep a close watch on those two Ningxia camps to prevent further trouble. Other than that, we break camp at dawn tomorrow and march east to cross the Yellow River. Whatever preparations are needed, have the First Brigade complete them tonight."

"East — cross the Yellow River?"

Gao Yingdeng asked, puzzled: "Aren't we attacking Ningxia Garrison City?"

Liu Chengzong shook his head. "Forget the garrison city. Jifang."

"Here, Marshal."

Though Zhao Jifang had just been scolded and still looked somewhat embarrassed, he recovered quickly.

Before the banquet, Liu Chengzong had ordered that everyone wear armor. It was just that Zhao Jifang was a clerk and did not count himself among "everyone" — besides, he truly had no armor to wear.

Liu Chengzong did not press the point further.

Trouble had broken out, he'd gotten yelled at — so be it, yelled at he was.

He made up his mind: once he got out of here, he would find a way to get a light suit of chainmail to wear.

"Draft the dispatch. Send word to Wang Wenxiu of the Longxi Brigade — order him to have Li Wanqing of the Standard Battalion occupy Zhongwei and seize the Mongol cattle, sheep, mules, and horses from behind the mountains. The remaining units are to march north immediately tonight. The main army headquarters will proceed to Ningxia Garrison Town. Send me Yang Chengzu of the Mobile Battalion and Yang Yanchang of the Support Battalion."

"Also, send word to our own seven battalions: prepare to break camp tomorrow and cross the Yellow River eastward."

In truth, this assassination attempt had a profound impact on Liu Chengzong.

Gnashing his teeth, he said, "They surrendered all along the way at the mere sight of our banners — that made me far too optimistic. Everyone itching to kill me is how it ought to be. We cannot stop... Cross the Yellow River eastward, chase Hong Chengchou to his death. He won't get away anywhere!"