In a serene mountain lodge, two elderly men were seated opposite each other, enjoying steamed crabs. The older one had snow-white eyebrows and a lazy white cat perched lazily at the corner of the table beside him. Though autumn had just begun, and the best time for crabs was still two weeks away, the capital of Liyang, Tai’an City, was overflowing with tributes from all over the empire. Those with connections and clout always found ways to indulge in delicacies ahead of time. In the Yuanfu Lake of Yunzhou, there was a special kind of crab known as the “Purple-Bearded Yellow Crab.” Because the Celestial Masters of Longhu Mountain, the ancestral temple of Taoism, favored yellow and purple, someone with a refined taste had dubbed it the “Dragon-Tiger Crab,” a name that had endured through the ages. This particular species matured earlier than other lake or river crabs by about two weeks, and as soon as autumn arrived, the females were already brimming with golden roe and tender flesh.
The white-haired old man had a gentle, benevolent expression. On the table before him were delicate porcelain plates holding the famous “Eight Treasures” crab-eating utensils, each crafted with exquisite precision. He was a connoisseur of crab-eating etiquette, occasionally picking up a slice of ginger to neutralize the crab’s cold nature. A pretty maid stood by with a tray, upon which sat a cluster of freshly picked chrysanthemums—used to wipe one’s hands after handling the oily crab meat. The old man handled the crab with practiced ease, cracking and peeling it slowly and methodically, clearly a seasoned gourmet.
Opposite him sat another elderly man, though not quite as old as the one with the prized “Snow Lion” cat. He was a generation or so younger and ate in a much more hurried, messy manner. He had no need for the elaborate crab-eating tools and ended up with golden, greasy fingers, which he would occasionally lick clean. This sight made the white-haired man’s personal maid cringe inwardly, though she dared not show even a hint of disdain. After all, this man was none other than the famous Tan Tan Weng, the esteemed head of the Menxia Province in the Liyang court. If not for his decisive betrayal, no one in the imperial court would have dared to confront the Chief Minister Zhang Julu directly.
Yet the old man she had served for several years was no ordinary figure either. He was none other than Yu Jiankang, the revered ancestor of the Yu Clan of Jiangxin. In truth, even Tan Tan Weng owed his position to Yu Jiankang’s seniority, addressing him respectfully as “Senior Master.”
The maid felt a tinge of helplessness inside. This banquet had been arranged by the old master to seek the help of the Sword Immortal of Tangxi, hoping to plead on behalf of someone. But the Minister of War, Lu Baijie, had been delayed by urgent military affairs, and the old master Huan had refused to wait. Yu Jiankang, the Yu Clan’s patriarch, had nothing to say in protest.
Yu Jiankang was the same stern old man who had once forced the Taoist nun Xu Pu to offer herself to the Crown Prince of Beiliang at the back hills of Baoguo Temple in Jiangnan. It was also he who had persuaded the younger generation, the Sword Immortal of Tangxi, to come to the capital and serve the court, which had led to the flourishing of the prestigious Lu Clan of Linlang. After finishing his crab, rinsing his mouth, and wiping his hands, Yu Jiankang let out a soft sigh. The maid, trained to be perceptive, took the hint and discreetly withdrew.
Yu Jiankang reached out to stroke the white cat’s head and looked at Tan Tan Weng, who had just wiped his greasy hands on his robe. He smiled gently and said, “Minister Pu, when might you have the time to visit Jiangnan? I would be honored to be your host.”
Tan Tan Weng chuckled, “Master Yu, we’re not quite at that stage of friendship yet, so let’s not bother with such pleasantries. To be honest, there are still a few old debts left unsettled. But since they’ve all turned into a mess of confusion over the years, I’ve managed to fool myself, so don’t you go pulling any tricks on me now.”
Yu Jiankang gazed deeply at Tan Tan Weng, whom he hadn’t seen in over twenty years. Suppressing the faint, lingering bitterness in his heart, he replied with self-deprecating humor, “Back then, I truly underestimated you. Breaking up a pair of lovers was indeed one of my greatest regrets.”
Huan Wen waved his hand dismissively and spoke bluntly, “You needn’t worry. You are you, Yu Lian is Yu Lian, and Lu Baijie is Lu Baijie. I’m not petty enough to take it out on others. But Yu Lian couldn’t become the Minister of Personnel for the ‘Third Promotion,’ unable to rival Zhang Lu’s protégé Zhao Youling. I was indeed one of the obstacles in his path, though not out of personal grudge. It’s simply that Yu Lian isn’t strong enough to carry the Ministry of Personnel. If it were the Ministry of Revenue or Works, I might have turned a blind eye. But if he wants to lead the Ministry of Personnel, which is about to be elevated in rank, he’ll need to pray for a thick column of auspicious smoke rising from his ancestors’ graves.”
Yu Jiankang, the head of the Yu Clan, merely smiled and did not become angry. It wasn’t a forced calmness from years of cultivation, but a genuine lack of anger.
Huan Wen continued bluntly, “The Ministry of War has performed poorly, turning Guangling Province into chaos, giving Cao Changqing the chance to clean house effortlessly. I had a grudge, and who else could I blame but Minister Lu Baijie? If anyone, blame the fact that he’s sitting in that seat. Even if it were Gu Jiantang or Chen Zhibao, I’d have scolded them just the same. Of course, Lu Baijie has only recently become a deputy minister, and the seat of Minister is still warm under his bottom. He was a bit unfairly blamed this time.”
Even Yu Jiankang couldn’t help but smile wryly and say helplessly, “You didn’t just scold him—you actually kicked him. Now the whole world knows that the Sword Immortal of Tangxi nearly got a kick to the chest from Minister Pu.”
Huan Wen slammed the table, exclaiming indignantly, “I’m an old man with a frail body, and I almost twisted my ankle. Who’s going to hear my complaint?”
Yu Jiankang sighed, deciding not to dwell on the matter with this stubborn old man. Everyone in the imperial court knew that whether Tan Tan Weng actually kicked Lu Baijie or not wasn’t important. What mattered was that the Left Deputy of the Menxia Province had publicly vented his anger at the newly appointed Minister of War, which would inevitably cause ripples. Even if Lu Baijie was favored by the Emperor, once he gained the reputation of being hated by Tan Tan Weng, his ambitions would face invisible obstacles, subtle and hard to trace. Even if he succeeded, it would be significantly diminished. The Ministry of War was already unstable, and the suppressed Ministry of Personnel was beginning to rise again. As the new leader of the Jiangnan scholar-officials, Lu Baijie, known for his integrity, had once seemed poised to rise even further, not confined to the Ministry of War alone. But now, with one kick from Huan Wen, everything had become uncertain. Though Jiangnan had Yu Jiankang, the former appraiser of clan ranks, how many old, hidden figures were lurking behind the scenes in Jiangbei?
Yu Jiankang, who could both take action and let go, asked, “What about Xu Gong?”
Huan Wen glanced at Yu Jiankang and replied gruffly, “I’m not the kind of person who can ruin someone’s career easily, nor am I the kind who can promote others. Master Yu, you’ve come to the wrong temple with the wrong offering. Besides, with the decades of goodwill you’ve accumulated, you don’t need to burn incense for anyone.”
The Xu Clan of Gumu had once stood on two pillars: General Xu Gong, the valiant general who had won many battles, and Consort Xu Shufei within the palace. Unfortunately, the latter had been disgraced by the Empress after being implicated in the affair of Xu Xiao, the eldest daughter of Xu Xiao. She was sent to cold storage, and it was unlikely she would ever see the light of day again. Her fall from grace not only devastated the Xu Clan of Gumu but also severely impacted the entire Jiangnan scholar-official group. The aristocratic families had always been a collective force—when one fell, all fell.
At the time, as soon as Consort Xu fell out of favor, several promising Jiangnan officials, who had once been on the rise, were quickly demoted by Zhao Youling’s Ministry of Personnel using various pretexts. In the world of officialdom, the line between mockery and being mocked was thin—sometimes it flipped overnight, with no need to wait thirty years for a reversal.
If not for Lu Baijie’s meteoric rise in Tai’an City, the scholars of Jiangnan would have had an even harder time. On the day Lu Baijie was appointed Minister of War, the number of Jiangnan scholars in the provincial guesthouses doubled overnight. But after Tan Tan Weng’s scathing criticism of the Ministry of War, a third of them quietly disappeared.
Yu Jiankang gently stroked the back of the white cat and sighed, “Whether one is inside or outside the court makes all the difference. Inside, when you ask others to do something, it should be a favor they’re grateful for. Outside, when you beg others to help, it rarely works.”
Yu Jiankang had used the pretext of pleading for Lu Baijie, but his real purpose was to secure a future for Xu Gong. Both old men understood this well—Lu Baijie’s temporary rise or fall couldn’t stop his overall momentum as the Emperor’s favored official. But General Xu Gong was different. There was already a hidden current in the court to suppress military officials. The Ministry of Personnel had been elevated above the Ministry of War, and Gu Jiantang had been restricted to the northern border with a hollow title of Grand Commander. Why were generals like Yang Shenxing and Yan Zhenshun so eager to request southern campaigns? It was because they knew that if they missed this opportunity, there would be no second chance—they were all trying to accumulate merit for their descendants.
Throughout the Spring and Autumn Period, only one person had been able to shape the tides of fate—Xu Xiao, the Butcher.
Even Gu Jiantang could only be considered half of that. As for others, no matter how brilliant figures like Lu Shangxiang were, they were merely riding the waves.
Huan Wen hesitated, saying nothing.
Yu Jiankang was momentarily stunned. This man had never been indecisive—why now? The Yu Clan’s patriarch immediately grew serious.
Suddenly, Huan Wen asked an irrelevant question, “Master Yu, how many more years do you think you have left? Fifteen?”
Yu Jiankang couldn’t grasp the meaning at first and could only answer truthfully with a smile, “Fifteen years is too much to hope for, but I’m sure I won’t be lying in a coffin for at least ten.”
Huan Wen nodded gravely and said, “Good. Then I’ll make an exception and speak a few words for Xu Gong. Within three years, I’ll ensure he becomes a powerful general. To be honest, if left to your Jiangnan scholars’ schemes, Xu Gong wouldn’t just fail to rise—he’d be doomed! As repayment, before you die, you’ll have to write two words for me.”
Yu Jiankang furrowed his brow, puzzled.
Huan Wen used his finger to write two words on the table, then stood up and left without another word.
Yu Jiankang looked at the empty table where no words remained, nor did he bother to see Tan Tan Weng off. After a long silence, he sighed, “With such a friend as Biyan’er, what is there to fear in death?”
※※※
The Empress of Northern Wei surpassed men in vision, allowing the Southern Court to function independently.
The Southern Court had six ministries but no Menxia or Zhongshu provinces, though it did have a Southern Grand Chancellor. However, the six ministries remained a rank lower than their Northern counterparts.
The Southern Grand Chancellor, Huang Songpu, had seen his influence wane in Northern Wei, especially after his trusted general, Hong G’u’an, lost the strategic fortress of Junzhi Pass. This was a heavy blow to Huang Songpu, who had risen from a minor southern clan. Meanwhile, the high-ranking generals Liu Kui and Yang Yuanzan, both of humble origins, did not take the opportunity to further weaken Huang Songpu’s power and territory. Since the Longxiang cavalry had crushed the defenses of Wazhu and Junzhi, many aristocratic families ranked as A-class had grown more cautious. Even the old scholars who had once freely criticized the three great generals felt the ominous signs of an impending storm and no longer spoke recklessly about defeating Beiliang without needing even a hundred thousand troops.
The Southern Court, having suffered misfortune, unexpectedly experienced an unusual harmony. With Duan Zhuo gaining more power and the unstoppable rise of external forces, and Hong Jingyan gaining full command of the Rouran cavalry, the rivalry between these two figures in the Southern Court largely diverted the old conflicts.
The Southern Court’s forty thousand troops were increasingly difficult for Huang Songpu to command, a fact now widely understood by all within and outside the court. Yet, even a dying camel is bigger than a horse. As long as Generals Liu Kui and Yang Yuanzan did not openly break with Huang Songpu, no one dared to challenge him directly.
Except for that fat bastard.
At this moment, the fat general, now commanding nearly ten thousand elite troops, was cursing loudly in the court, almost spitting in Huang Songpu’s face.
“Old man Huang, are you out of your mind to think of waging war against Beiliang?!”
“I’ll ask you, how did that bastard Hong G’u’an die? He had numerical superiority and geographical advantage, yet he still lost to the Longxiang cavalry, who had switched from heavy to light cavalry at the last moment!”
“I’ll bet you, if you go ahead with this plan, not only will you fail to conquer Beiliang, but the Emperor’s tent might end up being stripped clean by the Xu family’s cavalry!”
“Old fool, have you gone blind? Since Gu Dazu entered Beiliang, the great defensive line built around the fourteen key strongholds has become a quagmire. They’re determined to lure us into their second line of defense and slowly engage us! If you throw forty thousand troops at Beiliang, can they endure the war? Can we? Do you really think the Xu cavalry won’t cut off our supply lines, letting us transport supplies freely?”
The fat general ranted on without restraint, while the white-haired Huang Songpu remained expressionless, not even bothering to wipe away the spittle.
Yang Yuanzan and Liu Kui unusually did not stop Duan Zhuo from his disrespectful outbursts.
During a brief pause when Duan Zhuo caught his breath, Huang Songpu calmly asked, “Finished?”
Duan Zhuo bent over, waving his hand frantically, “Wait a bit longer.”
Many seasoned officials in the court rolled their eyes in exasperation, while some younger nobles showed visible shock.
Huang Songpu remained silent.
Duan Zhuo smacked his lips, trying to gather more saliva to continue his tirade.
Straightening his back, Duan Zhuo was about to scold the old fool awake.
At that moment, several imposing figures entered the hall—men of great authority, not particularly old, but wearing the highest official caps.
Most of them were Northern Wei ministers stationed in the Southern Court, but they held power that completely overshadowed the court—Commanders-in-Chief! The others were even rarer and more powerful figures, on par with or even surpassing the Commanders-in-Chief.
Duan Zhuo felt the strange atmosphere beside him and turned his head, his mouth agape.
Good heavens, was this still the Southern Court? Or had it become the most solemn gathering of the Northern Court’s royal council?
The unexpected guests included the two old Commanders-in-Chief from Gusai and Longyao provinces, the Commander-in-Chief of Juzi Province, Murong Baoding, and the Grand General Zhong Shentong!
Only then did Huang Songpu slowly speak, “I have already submitted a memorial to the Emperor. If approved, the southern campaign against Beiliang will not only involve the forty thousand troops of the Southern Court. Now it seems, he has likely approved it.”
Hong Jingyan glanced at the fat general and sneered coldly.
Duan Zhuo wisely shut his mouth, shaking his head and pretending to see nothing.
Huang Songpu nodded slightly to the Commanders-in-Chief and generals, then turned to Duan Zhuo and said calmly, “In my memorial, I have also resigned as the Northern Grand Chancellor and recommended you, Duan Zhuo, to the Emperor.”
Duan Zhuo stood there like a wooden statue.
Then, suddenly regaining his senses, his eyes welled up with tears as he tightly gripped Huang Songpu’s hand, “Old General, your concern for the nation and its people is truly moving! Do you have any granddaughters you’re worried about, like that unmarried beauty Huang Ehuang? I, Duan Zhuo, would be more than willing to offer my humble protection!”
Huang Songpu coldly replied, “If you dare to step into the Huang residence even once, I’ll break all three of your dog legs!”
Duan Zhuo quickly withdrew his hand, grinning, “Well, I haven’t officially become the Southern Grand Chancellor yet. All the treasures of the world must be secured before they slip away, otherwise everything is in vain.”
Hong Jingyan narrowed his eyes, watching coldly.
Huang Songpu ignored the fat, opportunistic bastard and walked to the center of the hall, scanning the room. The white-haired old man, who had spent half his life on the battlefield but was no longer the Southern Grand Chancellor, said nothing, only bowing deeply.
Not only the generals who had earned their fame on the battlefield, but even the civil officials instinctively returned the bow.
※※※
On the border of Beiliang, a cavalry unit of over fifty riders slowly advanced.
No one served as another’s retinue.
Each bore official rank.
Among them were Chu Luxian, the Protector of Beiliang; Yuan Zuozong, the Commander-in-Chief of the cavalry; Yan Wenluan, the Commander-in-Chief of the infantry.
Also present were the deputy commanders of the infantry and cavalry—Gu Dazu, Zhou Kang, He Zhonghu, and Chen Yunchui.
Xu Xiao, the second son of Xu Xiao.
Liangzhou General Shi Fu; Lingzhou General Han Laoshan; Youzhou General Huangfu Chong.
And several new faces like Wang Zhi and Jiao Wuyi, serving as deputies.
Following them were the commanding officers of various elite units, as well as over a dozen officers guarding the key strongholds of Beiliang.
Commanders Wei Shaqing and Xin Yinma of Tongguan; Commander Li Maotian of Ruoxian; Commander Zhu Boyu of Fengqiu; Commander Ren Chunyun of Beiguo.
And a group of newly promoted border officers, all in their early thirties, each with military merits and resolute eyes.
At the head of them all was the King of Beiliang, Xu Fengnian.
Who would have thought that this Beiliang, once thought to be lacking in young talent, had so many promising young officers upon closer inspection?
Such a formation was enough to make any enemy shudder.
Fifty riders moved in perfect unison, lining up in a straight line atop a high slope.
They silently gazed at the Northern Wei forces below.
Suddenly, Yan Wenluan laughed loudly, “How about all us old men over forty step back a bit and leave the front to the young ones?”
Gu Dazu, Chen Yunchui, and the other veterans exchanged glances, smiled, and silently stepped back.
The formation was slightly uneven.
But the mighty aura remained undiminished.
Because on the front line, there were still over thirty riders.
Whether Liyang or Northern Wei, it was impossible for either side to gather so many capable young generals on a single battlefield!
And even less likely for generals like Yan Wenluan to willingly serve as their rear guard!
The young prince, holding a spear, drew a line on the ground with its tip, level with the hooves of his horse.
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