Chapter Fifty-Six: The Storm Is Brewing

For those forces intent on hindering the development of cavalry in Shanggu Commandery, the consequences of killing Qin Cheng at the very outset of the cavalry initiative were far different from those of killing him after the project had been cast in a negative light. The former might not deal a heavy blow to Shanggu’s cavalry plans, but the latter could potentially render all efforts futile, the entire scheme dissolving like smoke. Furthermore, the identity of Qin Cheng’s killer would also affect the outcome. If a military officer, driven by opposition to Qin Cheng’s cavalry reforms, were to take his life, the resulting blow to the cavalry’s prospects would be devastating—this was all too clear.

In short, Shanggu’s ambitions to raise cavalry had already sparked great apprehension among certain factions.

Qin Cheng listened to Liu Mu’s words without betraying any emotion; his composure remained unchanged. He fixed Liu Mu with his gaze and asked, “In your opinion, what should I do now?”

“Find the traitor within the army, of course. Not only will this safeguard your life, it’s also essential for the cavalry reform to proceed—and flourish,” Liu Mu replied.

“I understand that principle,” said Qin Cheng, “but do you have a way to ferret out the traitor quickly? Remember, we are exposed while our enemy lurks in the shadows. We know nothing of him, yet he likely knows us inside and out.”

“By that logic, are we to sit idly by and wait for death?” Liu Mu retorted, displeased.

“Of course not.” Qin Cheng smiled, the curve of his lips both meaningful and confident.

Seeing Qin Cheng so unruffled, Liu Mu ventured, “Don’t tell me you already have a plan?”

“No,” Qin Cheng answered honestly, “but I do have a ready method.”

“And what is it?”

“To wait for the rabbit by the stump,” Qin Cheng replied, his smile sly.

“How is that any different from sitting and waiting for death?” Liu Mu shot back, eyeing Qin Cheng coldly.

“Then tell me, do you have a better idea?” Qin Cheng feigned humility, bowing to Liu Mu. “I would be most grateful for your guidance, Master Liu.”

Annoyed by Qin Cheng’s evasiveness, Liu Mu snorted. “You clearly have a scheme in mind, yet you insist on these riddles! You’ll be the death of me!”

Qin Cheng withdrew his gesture, chuckling softly, but said nothing more.

“So you intend to let the enemy expose himself, then strike when he slips up?” Liu Mu pondered aloud after a moment’s thought.

“Master Liu, you are indeed brilliant!” Qin Cheng laughed.

Liu Mu responded with another snort. In truth, with his acumen and wit, Liu Mu could have arrived at this point himself. Yet whenever he discussed such matters with Qin Cheng, the latter always kept something back, forcing Liu Mu to puzzle it out. Moreover, Qin Cheng always seized the initiative, unconsciously leading others to follow his reasoning, which dulled Liu Mu’s own.

“At this juncture, we must not alert the enemy. We may be anxious, but our foe is even more so; he cannot know how much we have learned from Zhang Shiyou and the others. He must be deeply unsettled, fearing he has been exposed. There’s no need for us to act—let him make the first move. As the saying goes, if the enemy errs, we win. All we must do is wait for him to lose his composure; once he does, our opportunity will come,” Qin Cheng explained.

Liu Mu mulled this over and nodded. “You’re not wrong—this is our only course for now. But what if he uses this chance to alert his backers, giving them time to prepare? Wouldn’t that make it even harder for us to root them out?”

“No matter,” Qin Cheng replied with a flourish. “If that’s the case, so much the better. Think about it—these people have already stirred up trouble in the camp, but none of it has truly crippled our cavalry initiative. To truly disrupt our plans, they must eliminate one obstacle: me. As long as I, the Cavalry Commandant, remain, their goal will not be achieved. In truth, letting them know what has transpired here can only benefit us.”

“You certainly have confidence in yourself,” Liu Mu remarked, half in jest. “But you’re right—if they smear the cavalry reforms, assassinate the Cavalry Commandant, and then stir up further chaos, fanning the flames, it would be the most effective means to thwart our efforts. If such a thing happened, even if the court didn’t cancel the cavalry plan outright, it would at least postpone it for years.”

After a pause, Liu Mu regarded Qin Cheng thoughtfully. “If it comes to that, General Qin, your life will be in grave danger.”

“That need not trouble you,” Qin Cheng replied carelessly. Suddenly, a surge of heroic spirit welled within him, and he recited, “If it be for my country’s good, I’ll face death without regret, neither seeking favor nor shunning disaster.”

“If it be for my country’s good, I’ll face death without regret, neither seeking favor nor shunning disaster?” Liu Mu murmured the words, then struck his palm in admiration. “Well said! General Qin, you are truly a man of honor!”

It was the first time Liu Mu had praised him so earnestly, and the genuine respect in his eyes was unmistakable. For a moment, Qin Cheng felt abashed, almost blushing.

Having come to an understanding, Qin Cheng then issued a military order in his capacity as Cavalry Commandant: the camp was now under lockdown—no soldier was to enter or leave without his express permission.

As for Zhang Shiyou and his companions, Qin Cheng made a “three no’s” decision: no interrogations, no sentencing, and no visitors.

Once these matters were arranged, Qin Cheng and Liu Mu left the tent and returned to the training ground. Soon after, Qin Cheng found a casual excuse to send Liu Mu away, then sought out Li Hu for a whispered conversation. The two parted ways, after which Qin Cheng found Qin Qingzhi and quietly gave him certain instructions.

Throughout the rest of the day, the cavalry instructors continued to assess the skills of the veteran infantrymen. When dusk fell, Qin Cheng dismissed the men, telling them to resume their unfinished tasks the next day.

At the close of the day’s assessments, the soldiers returned to their barracks to eat and rest. Qin Cheng summoned Li Hu, Liu Mu, and Qin Qingzhi to his tent.

“Is everything in order?” Qin Cheng asked.

“All is in readiness,” the three replied, saluting.

Li Hu said, “Qin Qingzhi and I have stationed our men; if anything stirs in camp, we’ll know. But what’s the purpose of the small group you singled out?”

Qin Cheng smiled. “The mass of men are of limited use; the key is for these few to keep an eye on the main suspects.” Then he turned to Liu Mu. “And your side?”

“Today, as you ordered, I loitered about the training ground. Many came to probe for news, but the most anxious was the chariot captain, Kong Zhengfang. He tried to conceal his agitation, but it was plain to see. As you instructed, I kept my silence,” reported Liu Mu.

Qin Cheng frowned, nodding thoughtfully, and fell silent.

“Do you suspect Kong Zhengfang?” Li Hu inquired.

“It’s too soon to say,” Qin Cheng replied slowly, “but if it is him, it would make sense. Zhang Shiyou and the others are chariot soldiers—if Kong Zhengfang is their superior, it fits.”

The others nodded. Li Hu asked, “What shall we do next, General?”

“Keep him under surveillance and wait for his move,” said Qin Cheng.

“We must—can’t just detain him for showing concern over Zhang Shiyou,” Li Hu agreed.

“Indeed. I’m hoping to follow the vine to the melon,” Qin Cheng said with a grin. “If Kong Zhengfang is truly the traitor, he will surely contact his backers after today’s events. If we tail him, we may uncover those behind the scenes.”

“Agreed.” All present nodded.

“Still, we can’t let up our watch over the camp. After all, we cannot yet be certain Kong Zhengfang is the traitor. And, Qingzhi, guard Zhang Shiyou and the others with utmost caution,” Qin Cheng added.

“Understood,” Qin Qingzhi replied with a salute.

“Good. That’s all for today. Dismissed. Li Hu, you’d best return to the general’s side as well,” said Qin Cheng.

“Very well. We take our leave!” With that, Li Hu and Liu Mu returned to the governor’s residence. As Qin Cheng’s enforcement squad was understaffed, some of Li Guang’s personal guards remained behind to help monitor the camp.

Qin Qingzhi, after leaving the tent, did not return directly to his quarters but went instead to where Zhang Shiyou and his comrades were held, giving the guards strict instructions.

Late autumn had passed, and the northern night was bitterly cold. Black clouds masked the moon, plunging the land into deep darkness. Qin Cheng turned over the day’s events in his mind, read a while, and only then finally went to sleep.

He had not slept long before the guard woke him—Qin Qingzhi had urgent news. Learning it was not yet even the second watch, Qin Cheng felt a sudden jolt of alarm and hastily summoned Qin Qingzhi.

Qin Qingzhi entered, face pale and bloodstained. He knelt and said bitterly, “General, I have failed you. Zhang Shiyou and the others have been killed!”

“What?” Qin Cheng sprang up, all drowsiness gone, grabbed Qin Qingzhi by the collar, eyes bloodshot, meaning to demand an explanation. But suddenly he released him, rushed out, and ran toward the prisoners’ quarters.

The deaths of Zhang Shiyou and his companions at this critical juncture spelled serious trouble for Qin Cheng—his heart was heavy.

Qin Qingzhi followed, mortified and self-reproaching.

Reaching the tents, Qin Cheng was somewhat relieved by what he saw. There was no sign of disturbance; had he not already known of the killings, nothing would have seemed amiss.

He took a deep breath to steady himself, then signaled a guard to open the first door.

Inside lay Zhang Shiyou in a pool of blood, his throat slashed—death was instantaneous. Qin Cheng inspected the wound, then moved on to the next tent.

“After leaving your tent, I came here and ordered the guards to keep a close watch, not letting the prisoners harm themselves. I never imagined they’d be killed. I stepped out for a moment, and on a whim came to check. To my shock, I found the guards lying unconscious. I knew at once something was wrong, but didn’t expect the killer was still inside. I saw him emerge from one tent, heading for another. I dared not raise an alarm, fearing to cause chaos, so I drew my sword and rushed him. Alas, I was a step too late—Wei Dalei was already dead. I fought the assassin, but he was too skilled; he wounded me and escaped,” Qin Qingzhi explained as they went.

“Fortunately, the guards were only knocked out, not killed. I suppose the murderer feared causing too much commotion,” he added.

Qin Cheng listened as he examined the scene. “This is not your fault. I too didn’t anticipate someone would kill them here. You handled it well under the circumstances and kept it quiet. Does anyone else know?”

“No. After the killer escaped, a patrol arrived. I had them tend to the wounded and sealed off the area, then came to report,” said Qin Qingzhi, gritting his teeth against the pain.

“You did well—no blame, only credit. How bad is your injury?”

“A flesh wound, nothing serious. But I regret letting the killer escape!”

They entered the last tent, where Wei Dalei lay in blood, his throat also cut. All four troublemakers had been killed with a single stroke—clear proof of a skilled hand.

Qin Cheng frowned at the corpse, then turned to Qin Qingzhi. “When you came to the tents, did you hear any cries for help or other sounds?”

“No, sir. Everything was quiet. Had there been any noise, I would have heard it,” Qin Qingzhi assured him.

Qin Cheng regarded Wei Dalei pensively. “Strange,” he murmured.

“Qingzhi, bag these bodies and bury them outside the camp. Make sure no one finds out, and keep the guards silent. Afterward, have some men pose as Zhang Shiyou and the others in these tents, so it appears they’re unharmed. Understood?”

“Rest assured, General—I’ll see to it.”

“And bring the men tailing Kong Zhengfang to my tent.”

“Yes, sir!”

Leaving the prisoners’ quarters, Qin Cheng returned to his tent. Soon, Qin Qingzhi arrived in haste.

“General, Kong Zhengfang isn’t in his quarters—his whereabouts are unknown!” Qin Qingzhi reported anxiously.

“What?” Qin Cheng was taken aback. “Tell me everything.”

“Yes, sir. When I questioned the two men watching him, they said he was inside. But upon further inquiry, I learned they hadn’t seen him all day. Finding this odd, I knocked, only to discover he wasn’t there at all. According to their statements, Kong Zhengfang never returned to his quarters today.”

Hearing this, Qin Cheng regained his composure. Yet just as he began to piece things together, confusion clouded his mind again—the turn of events had far exceeded his expectations. That Zhang Shiyou and the others could be killed in camp was shocking enough; Kong Zhengfang’s actions were even more puzzling.

Could it really have been Kong Zhengfang who killed them?

Just then, a soldier from the enforcement squad arrived with news: Kong Zhengfang had returned to his quarters—he’d entered the camp through the main gate and gone straight back.

“Shall I arrest him now, General?” Qin Qingzhi asked, saluting.

“I’ll handle it myself.” Qin Cheng rose to his feet.

He had ordered a lockdown, yet Kong Zhengfang had managed to slip out and back in. Clearly, the man had some skill, and perhaps it spoke to Qin Cheng’s own lack of authority—otherwise, Kong Zhengfang might not have managed it, or at least Qin Cheng would have known sooner.

With Qin Qingzhi in tow, Qin Cheng hurried to Kong Zhengfang’s quarters. Qin Qingzhi knocked on the door.

“Who’s there? Waking me in the middle of the night—what do you want?” Kong Zhengfang barked from inside.

“Cavalry Commandant Qin has business with Captain Kong,” Qin Qingzhi replied in a low voice.

At this, all noise inside ceased. Qin Qingzhi was about to force the door when it finally opened. A burly, bearded man in white stepped out, saw Qin Cheng, and quickly saluted, his demeanor calm, even smiling as he asked, “General Qin, what brings you here at this hour?”