Chapter 380

At the second watch, Jiang Mingyu, alone in his empty chamber, sat before the desk, staring blankly at a cup of cold tea in his hand. A faint smile curled at his lips, as if lost in thoughts of something wonderful. Suddenly, footsteps approached outside the door; Jiang Mingyu snapped back to reality, drained the tea in one gulp, and rose to straighten his robes.

He first adjusted his belt, checking that the sword at his waist was properly secured. Then he smoothed the wrinkles from his long robe, ensuring his appearance was flawless. Finally, he gently touched the jade pendant on his chest—the auspicious gift presented by his ministers upon his ascension, symbolizing their loyalty and support. Having completed these, he nodded in satisfaction, cleared his throat, and radiated an aura of dignity and solemnity.

“Your Majesty, Feng Xiwéi requests an audience,” came the soldier’s voice from outside, tense and cautious.

“Bring him in at once,” Jiang Mingyu rubbed his sore eyes, cleared his throat, and made his voice sound lively.

The door opened, and Feng Xiwéi strode in with long, confident steps. He wore polished armor and a finely crafted helmet, his eyes bright, his expression tense yet excited. Jiang Mingyu immediately noticed the slight twitch in the corner of his eye and the faint tremble of his lips—as if he bore urgent good news he could barely contain.

“Your Majesty, the scouts have returned and have been waiting outside for some time. May I permit them to enter and report?” Feng Xiwéi bowed slightly, respectfully speaking. His voice trembled with excitement, rising involuntarily.

“Bring them in at once,” Jiang Mingyu’s eyes flickered with delight; he too felt a surge of excitement, his voice growing hurried without realizing it. He had been waiting for this report—and now, at last, it had come.

Feng Xiwéi hurried to the door and called out loudly, “Bring the scout in to report!” His voice rang strong and full of energy. He instinctively gripped the hilt of his sword, as if already eager to march out.

In stepped a middle-aged man, clad in tattered clothes, his face caked with dust. His steps were unsteady, as if he had traveled for days and was utterly exhausted. Yet his eyes burned brightly with excitement; though his face was gaunt, his inner joy could not be hidden. He looked up at Jiang Mingyu, his expression filled with reverence and admiration.

Jiang Mingyu studied him carefully. This man clearly bore unwavering loyalty, having sacrificed himself for his lord. A wave of emotion and respect rose within him, mingled with a touch of nervousness. How had this man braved mountains and rivers, endured countless dangers, to deliver this report? How could he possibly betray such devotion?

“Thank you for your hard work tonight. Come, tell me what you’ve learned about Tagang,” Jiang Mingyu smiled warmly, his tone gentle to ease the scout’s exhaustion. He stroked his jade pendant, reminding himself to remain calm and listen patiently.

The scout immediately knelt and bowed his head, respectfully speaking: “Your Majesty, Your Majesty, ten thousand years! I was ordered by Your Majesty to infiltrate Tagang and gather intelligence. After days of relentless travel, I have finally uncovered its full details.”

Rising, the scout took a deep breath to steady himself. His voice turned grave: “Report, Your Majesty: Tagang lies approximately six hundred li from here and is the essential route to Gebao City. Its commander is Jia Tong, commanding sixty thousand elite troops, including twenty thousand cavalry.”

“He has held Tagang for over three years and is deeply beloved by his soldiers. The city’s defenses are lax, the walls heavily damaged—much like Xiongzhou was on the day we took it.” At this, the scout’s tone carried a hint of contempt and confidence—as if the city were already his to claim.

Jiang Mingyu smiled faintly; his mind was already made up. He understood the scout’s implication: Tagang’s condition was indeed favorable. Overjoyed, he nodded gently: “I understand. You may retire. Wash and rest. I shall prepare for the campaign.” He waved a hand in dismissal, his expression one of quiet satisfaction.

The scout bowed repeatedly in thanks, his face radiant with relief. All his fear, fatigue, and anxiety vanished, replaced by boundless joy and gratitude. His lord’s approval was his greatest reward—his suffering had finally meant something.

Jiang Mingyu watched him leave, then turned to Feng Xiwéi with a knowing smile. The time for Tagang had come. It was time to seize it—swiftly, decisively—as a shining trophy in his hands!

Jiang Mingyu turned to Feng Xiwéi: “Summon Tukesiluo at once. I have urgent matters to discuss with him.” His brow furrowed, his expression stern and calm.

Feng Xiwéi bowed deeply and hurried out, his armor clinking sharply.

Moments later, Tukesiluo strode in, clad in heavy silver-white armor. He radiated vigor, his demeanor composed and calm, as if eager for the coming campaign. The gems embedded in his armor glowed brilliantly in the candlelight.

“I receive your command. Your Majesty, please instruct me,” Tukesiluo bowed slightly, his eyes bright, speaking directly. His voice rang strong and clear, tinged with urgency.

Jiang Mingyu nodded slightly and spoke: “I now know Tagang’s full strength. Though its garrison is large, its defenses are lax—no match for our overwhelming assault.” At this, his lips curled slightly, his eyes gleaming with resolve and excitement.

Tukesiluo’s expression brightened; a confident smile spread across his face. “Your Majesty’s insight is flawless. I accept this command and will take Tagang swiftly, without spilling a drop of blood—opening the road to Gebao City for Your Majesty.” He locked eyes with Jiang Mingyu, his tone certain—as if victory were already assured.

Jiang Mingyu nodded in satisfaction, his voice low and firm: “I now have thirty thousand troops under Zhuge Yu, plus my own sixty thousand—more than enough to crush Tagang’s garrison. At dawn tomorrow, lead ninety thousand men northward and take Tagang directly!” His voice rose at the final words, brimming with ambition.

Tukesiluo bowed deeply, his face alight with fervor. He clenched his fist and raised it high above his head: “I swear, Your Majesty—I shall crush Tagang’s garrison and claim the first victory!” His voice brimmed with passion and determination.

Jiang Mingyu watched Tukesiluo’s proud back vanish, and thought: This campaign against Tagang will open the gate to Gebao City. Should I strike Gebao directly to eliminate Wei Yangyao—or first dismantle his outposts like Lingtaicheng, then decide? He frowned deeply, his expression grim, as if weighing every possible path.

After a long silence, he exhaled slowly, his face regaining its resolve. No matter the choice, the first step of this northern campaign had finally been taken. He touched his jade pendant, a fierce resolve surging within him. One day, he would overthrow Wei Yangyao and unify all lands within and beyond these borders!

The next morning, drums thundered from Qu Province’s camp, jolting sleeping soldiers awake. They scrambled from their tents, fumbling to don armor. Some blinked sleepily, nearly stumbling; others wore their robes backward, frantically undoing and retying them.

Jiang Mingyu, fully armed and mounted, sat grim-faced, speaking in low tones to several generals. He carefully passed around a map of the northern route, pointing out key terrain features. The generals stood rigid, nodding solemnly, clearly approving his strategy.

Shi Zhuo strode up to Jiang Mingyu; the two faced each other, expressions grave. Jiang Mingyu frowned and said: “I lead the army to Tagang. I entrust everything here to you. Seal all news before the enemy discovers us—buy me time.” His voice carried anxiety; this mattered deeply. Shi Zhuo nodded firmly, fist pressed to his chest: “Rest assured, Your Majesty—I will not fail you!” His gaze held unwavering trust and loyalty.

Jiang Mingyu patted his shoulder armor, mounted his horse, raised his sword, and roared: “All troops! March!” His voice rang powerful, instantly lifting morale. The ground trembled beneath the synchronized thunder of ten thousand marching feet—blood surged with excitement. Shi Zhuo stood still, watching them vanish into the distance, a shadow of worry crossing his face as he silently prayed for their safe journey.

No sooner had the army departed than Shi Zhuo waved for a messenger. His brow furrowed, voice urgent: “Quick! Plant more flags throughout the city—make it look like the army is still here, and the Emperor still resides within!” He urged the messenger on, his anxiety palpable. The messenger hurried off, sensing his commander’s tension.

Shi Zhuo watched the messenger’s retreating figure and thought: If we can deceive Jia Tong’s spies for even a short while, we’ll gain precious time. Must be cautious! He clenched his fist; his armor creaked under the pressure.

Then he stroked his chin, lost in thought. Hearing movement, he looked up at the bustling soldiers and ordered coldly: “Send someone immediately to Guizhou to see Commander Song. Order him to dispatch more grain from Jiangzhou to Tagang!” His tone brooked no refusal—he had already foreseen the hardships of the campaign. The soldiers froze, faces filled with shock and fear.

Shi Zhuo crossed his arms, scanning the men around him, voice stern: “The Emperor leads the army on a distant campaign. We must ensure the grain supply never breaks! This concerns the entire war—no mistakes allowed!” The soldiers immediately saluted and dispersed to relay orders, chastened by his severity, no longer daring to slack.

Shi Zhuo watched the soldiers move swiftly, clenching his fist inward: “The Emperor risks too much. We must strengthen rear supply lines—or if the front falters, the consequences will be catastrophic...” His gaze hardened, as if he were convincing himself.

Meanwhile, Jiang Mingyu’s army had left the city far behind, entering dense, towering forests. Thick canopies blotted out the sun; even at noon, the woods were dim as twilight. Soldiers carried torches, struggling to carve a narrow path. Roots and vines choked the ground; horses stumbled, neighing as they fell into mud. Soldiers bent low, dodging hanging branches, drenched in sweat and filth, often pausing to catch their breath.

Jiang Mingyu rode, his face grim, constantly glancing back to ensure the army maintained formation. Suddenly, a young soldier’s horse tripped on a root and collapsed, crying out in pain. Jiang Mingyu yanked the reins, shouting: “Halt the entire army!” He straightened, waved to Feng Xiwéi, and ordered calmly: “Deploy all scouts—fan out into the mountains and secure the route’s secrecy!”

Feng Xiwéi immediately relayed the order. Over a hundred light scouts sprinted from the ranks, vanishing into the shadows. Jiang Mingyu, facing the breeze, gazed upward at the tangled canopy, his eyes resolute. Four days into the march, autumn had turned the southern forests yellow, yet green still clung stubbornly. The column pressed forward, steadily advancing toward Tagang.

At noon, sunlight pierced the leaves, dappling the ground. Jiang Mingyu removed his hat and headwrap, wiping sweat from his brow with his sleeve. He studied the map intently, occasionally glancing ahead at the mountains. Then a scout burst from the underbrush, kneeling before his horse: “Sir, ahead lies a swift mountain stream—we cannot cross it on foot!” Jiang Mingyu frowned, paused, then asked: “What is the terrain on either side? Can we climb over?” The scout replied: “Both banks are sheer cliffs—impassable. We must cross the water.”

Jiang Mingyu stroked his beard, his deep eyes filled with concern. He dismissed the scout and studied the map again. Feng Xiwéi rode up, anxious: “Sir, as the scout said, a swift stream blocks our path. Crossing on foot is perilous...” His finger traced the map. “But fortunately, judging by the terrain, this is likely our final natural obstacle. Beyond it, the road should grow far easier.”

Feng Xiwéi quickly said: “Your orders, sir—I’ll handle it! I’ll send men ahead to measure depth and build a bridge for safe passage.” Jiang Mingyu nodded in approval; Feng Xiwéi immediately dispatched troops to construct it.

The bridge was soon completed. The army crossed mountain after mountain; though the path remained rugged, no ambushes or hidden foes appeared.

That night, Jiang Mingyu’s camp buzzed with tension and anticipation. Campfires flickered, casting red glows on the generals’ faces. They stood rigid, eyes fixed on Jiang Mingyu, waiting for his command.

Jiang Mingyu sat with his back to them, fingers rhythmically tapping the table, lost in thought. His head bowed, long black hair falling over his shoulders, half-obscuring his face. No one could read his expression; all held their breath. After a long silence, He Jing cleared his throat tentatively: “Your Majesty, according to schedule, we’ll reach Tagang the day after tomorrow. Please advise us on the assault strategy.” His tone was respectful, yet edged with anxiety. He stood with hands clasped behind his back, leaning slightly forward, eyes locked on Jiang Mingyu’s back, afraid to miss any sign.

Jiang Mingyu turned his head slightly; his hair slipped aside, revealing his sharp profile. He lifted his gaze, scanning the generals’ faces. His lips seemed to curve upward; a flicker of delight crossed his eyes. Yet he remained silent, studying them, as if waiting for more input. The generals exchanged glances, each waiting for another to speak first.

After a moment, E Bu sighed, crossed his arms, and frowned: “Your Majesty, night assault is our greatest strength—and most unexpected.” He paused, eyes sweeping the room, seeking support. “Our movements remain hidden; Jia Tong is unprepared. A night attack will seize Tagang in one stroke—and it’s the most economical in manpower. What do you all think?”

Tukesiluo and Li Goudan exchanged glances, both nodding in agreement. They spoke in unison: “Exactly!” Che Gang grunted his assent; Feng Xiwéi nodded vigorously, beaming: “E Bu’s plan makes perfect sense! A night assault on Tagang has high odds of success!” All the generals’ faces lit up with confidence, eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Jiang Mingyu listened, eyes narrowing, a satisfied smile forming. He rose, looking down upon them. “Since all agree, we shall repeat our old tactic.” His voice rang clear and confident. He waved his hand, sweeping his gaze across them. “Rest well tonight. Tomorrow, hasten the march. We must reach Tagang’s gates before the fourth watch. Launch the surprise attack at the fourth watch.” His gaze settled on Tukesiluo, filled with trust: “Tukesiluo—it’s your turn.”

“Yes!” Tukesiluo clenched his fists, grinning. “Brother, we’ve done this before—leave it to me!” He puffed out his chest and strode out of the tent, confident as if victory were already his. E Bu and several other generals followed, each radiating assurance.

The tent fell silent. Jiang Mingyu watched them leave; his smile faded. His eyes grew deep again, fixed on the tent flap, brow furrowed—as if haunted by unseen dangers.

Suddenly, noise erupted at the camp gate. Jiang Mingyu snapped awake, stepping out to investigate. A few drunken soldiers were brawling, quickly subdued by night sentries. Jiang Mingyu frowned, ordered increased patrols, then returned silently to his tent, sat at the table, and poured himself several cups of wine—drinking to quiet his inner unease.

Night deepened; the camp grew quiet. Cold winds swept the grasslands; soldiers huddled around fires, some already asleep. Yet most remained wide-eyed, trembling with anticipation for dawn. Whispers passed among them, discussing tomorrow’s raid. One man, hands red from cold, exclaimed excitedly: “If we take Tagang, we’ll make it home for the New Year!” Another frowned, murmuring: “Jia Tong isn’t an easy target—how will he respond?” None could sleep. All held their breath, conserving strength for the assault ahead—filled with dread and longing.