Chapter 11: Both Sides in Sorrow

After leaving Wei Wuyi, Zheng Dali led the roughly two hundred men temporarily assigned to his command, advancing quietly through the darkness.

Although Zheng Dali had accepted Wei Wuyi’s military order, he was inwardly terrified by the mission. To think that with a mere two hundred men, he dared to provoke an army of over ten thousand from Chen—Zheng Dali could not help but admire his young lord’s audacity.

Of all the strong armies under heaven, even the Wei Warrior Battalion, of which Zheng Dali had once been proud, had never attempted such a feat.

“Well, there’s no turning back now. I might as well go mad one last time,” Zheng Dali murmured. Though anxious, he maintained an outward calm. If he wavered, the hard-won fighting spirit of his men would surely vanish in an instant.

Having weathered many a battle, Zheng Dali could face powerful enemies without a flicker of emotion. The same could not be said for the men under his command.

And so, the Wei soldiers marched on in silence, the faint sound of hooves fading into the night-shrouded forest.

At the head of the column, Zheng Dali kept the troop on course. Just then, a mounted soldier edged closer, lowering his voice and speaking with a note of despair. “General, if we go, do you think any of us will make it back alive?”

This soldier, having listened to Wei Wuyi’s rousing speech, understood the ferocity of the enemy. The conflict was a matter of life and death—there was no choice but to fight desperately. Coupled with Wei Wuyi’s promise of land and titles for military merit, he had resolved to seize this chance for himself and his family, as had most of the men.

Yet as they neared the enemy, his heart grew ever more uneasy. Gazing into the boundless night, danger seemed to lurk at every step.

Zheng Dali glanced sideways, his expression unchanging. “What’s there to fear? The men of Chen are nothing but paper tigers. As warriors of Great Wei, should we fear them?”

He then raised his voice, addressing the troops behind him. “You are all sons of good families, chosen from every county of Great Wei. You are soldiers of the greatest nation under heaven. Should you tremble before the soft-shelled rabble of Chen?”

“Besides,” he continued, “in this pitch-black darkness, what does Chen’s greater numbers matter? Do you think they dare to sally out all at once?” This last remark was directed at the whole column.

Zheng Dali thought it best to speak plainly now, so the men would know where they stood and wouldn’t falter in the heat of battle.

“The men of Chen are more frightened than we are. Our army of more than a hundred thousand stands strong at Changping Pass, barely a hundred li from here, with the Wei Warrior Battalion—the terror of all nations—holding the line.” Despite his rough appearance, Zheng Dali spoke with clarity and conviction.

“So tell me—who has more reason to fear? Us, or the men of Chen?” Zheng Dali now imitated Wei Wuyi’s stern tone, demanding an answer from the troops.

As expected, after Zheng Dali’s rousing words, the soldiers’ spirits visibly lifted. With such a powerful force at their backs, surely it was the men of Chen who ought to be afraid.

“The general is right! Chen is but a petty state; how can it hope to rival our great nation?” The squad leaders, seasoned veterans themselves, echoed the sentiment, their faith in Great Wei’s strength unshaken.

Zheng Dali continued, “Gentlemen, the young lord has declared: in this battle, not only will military merit earn you land, but titles as well.”

That promise drove the men wild—especially the rare reward of titles for valor, seldom granted even in the armies of Wei. Today, all it took was five enemy heads to win a title. Who wouldn’t be driven to frenzy?

“Victory!” shouted one soldier, his face cleared of all gloom.

Hearing the men’s heavy, eager breaths, Zheng Dali quickly motioned for silence. If their noise attracted enemy scouts and they were wiped out, it would be a disgrace.

Once the men calmed themselves, Zheng Dali added, “Stay alert, everyone. When we get close to the enemy, don’t clash head-on. The priority is to draw them into the young lord’s ambush.”

With his instructions given, Zheng Dali ordered absolute silence; only the faintest hoofbeats could be heard.

Meanwhile, in the darkness, the Chen army proceeded in good order. They had extinguished their torches and wrapped the horses’ hooves in cloth to avoid detection by enemy scouts.

The Chen soldiers maintained their formation by relying on low-voiced commands from their officers. But compared to daylight, the army’s alignment inevitably drifted.

Zhang Yunliang, surrounded by his bodyguards in the central ranks, still felt far from secure. Unlike Zheng Dali, he had accepted his orders with fiery confidence, certain that with command of such a force, nothing could stand against him.

But the setback suffered by the vanguard today had soured his mood. After crossing the river under cover of night, he grew increasingly uneasy, as if at any moment a host of Wei soldiers might burst from the darkness.

He tugged at his collar, the heat ebbing slightly, and said to the officer beside him, “Ji Hui, send word to all units: maintain vigilance as we march, and do not let the Wei exploit any gap.”

Ji Hui nudged his horse forward, managing a wry smile. “General, this is the third time you’ve given that order.”

Zhang Yunliang started, doubt flickering in his mind. Had he really? Why couldn’t he remember? Was he truly that nervous?

He sighed. “The Wei have invaded on a grand scale. In this time of national peril, I cannot afford carelessness, having been entrusted with such responsibility by our lord.”

Ji Hui smiled, trying to reassure him. “General, take heart. The Wei are formidable, but our ally Qin is no weakling. With the Qin forces drawing off the Wei main army, the Wei must be hard-pressed. Why else would they keep shifting troops from the flank to Changping Pass and leave this gap for us to exploit?”

Despite Ji Hui’s easy manner, Zhang Yunliang remained uneasy. The mighty state of Wei, dominating the land, was no less fearsome than the old state of Jin, which once vied with all under heaven. Such power could not be ignored.

Just then, as Zhang Yunliang pondered how to deploy his forces in support of the main attack, a commotion broke out ahead, snapping him back to reality.

“What’s going on?” Zhang Yunliang demanded angrily. He had labored to keep the army’s movements quiet, and now there was an uproar at the front—so much for stealth.

“Hurry, go find out what’s happening,” Ji Hui said, unable to sit still, and ordered one of the guards to investigate.

“Understood.” The guard sped off at once.

“If that brat Wang Gushan screws up again, I’ll have his hide,” Zhang Yunliang growled under his breath. To him, Wang Gushan, the vanguard commander, was utterly unreliable—he commanded three thousand cavalry, yet could not handle a mere three thousand battered Wei troops. Worse, he’d let them land a blow and even destroyed the bridge after crossing, sheer incompetence. Zhang Yunliang had already decided that after this battle, he would recommend Wang’s dismissal to the lord. The main Wei commander who abandoned Dashiyi had been useless, but Wang Gushan was little better.

The guard returned with his report. “General, the Wei attacked ahead. General Wang’s unit was ambushed and lost over a dozen men.”

“Did I not tell him to be on guard? Is he deaf?” Zhang Yunliang burst out, his anger so intense that the guard nearly fell from his horse.

“Calm yourself, General. Now is not the time to lose your composure,” Ji Hui counseled, before turning to the guard. “Where are the Wei now? Has General Wang captured them?”

“They struck once, then fled immediately. General Wang estimates they number about two hundred cavalry and is organizing a pursuit.”

“Fool! Who told him to pursue?” Zhang Yunliang cursed again. If Wang blundered into a Wei ambush, who would answer for it? Not just Wang—he himself would be held responsible.

Without waiting for further advice, Zhang Yunliang snapped, “Go! Tell Wang Gushan to maintain formation with the central force. No unauthorized actions.”

“Yes, sir!” The messenger sped off.

Staring into the night, as if it might devour him whole, Zhang Yunliang’s heart grew more restless. He glanced at Ji Hui, whose earlier composure had vanished.

This would be a long and difficult night.