Xue Rengui did not get a peaceful night's sleep.
His dreams were a complete disaster.
One moment, he was standing outside Pingkang Fang, desperately trying to free himself from Su Dingfang's iron grip. The general was dragging him toward the glowing red lanterns of the brothels as if he were leading a cavalry charge into battle.
The next moment, the scene completely changed. The silk curtains, heavy perfume, and lively streets of Chang'an vanished without a trace. He found himself standing in the middle of an unfamiliar battlefield, surrounded by countless foreign warriors surging over the hills like a black tide.
A fierce chieftain stepped forward. He raised a wickedly curved saber and pointed it straight at Xue Rengui's chest before letting out a roar loud enough to shake the battlefield.
"Young Master! Would you like to buy a premium glass cup?"
Xue Rengui bolted upright with a sharp gasp.
He stared at the dark ceiling of his small room in the official relay station while his heart pounded against his ribs.
Then his brain finally caught up with what he had just dreamed.
"...What kind of nonsense was that?"
A laugh escaped before he could stop it.
"I have never even been on a real battlefield," he muttered to the empty room. "I have never seen a Turkic warrior in my life. So why did a glass merchant end up invading my dreams?"
Shaking his head, he lay back down. This time, sleep came quickly and without any more strange visitors.
He woke just as the eastern sky turned a faint shade of slate gray. The final strike of the morning watch echoed through the quiet streets of Chang'an, and he quietly began his morning routine before the city had fully awakened.
Packing was a simple task because he owned very little.
He laid everything he had on top of his blanket. There were two recurve bows, one new and still unstrung, the other well-worn and tested. Beside them rested the ceremonial sword that had once belonged to his late father. He also had two sets of plain clothes and a single quiver filled with arrows that he had carefully fletched during his spare time.
At last, he picked up the small silver ring. His thumb brushed over the smooth surface for a brief moment before he tucked it safely into the innermost pocket of his tunic.
When he looked over the items spread before him, he could not help giving a wry smile.
That was everything he owned in this world.
If a thief ever broke into his room, the poor fellow would probably leave feeling disappointed.
He tied the bundle securely, slung his weapons over his shoulder, and quietly slipped out of the room. After offering a soft goodbye to the sleepy attendant at the relay station's front desk, he stepped into the crisp morning air. He fixed his direction toward the northwest and set off at a brisk pace, determined to meet up with Su Dingfang.
Chang'an had three gates along its western wall, and Kaiyuan Gate stood at the northernmost end.
Xue Rengui remembered a joke Su Dingfang had made a few days earlier. The veteran had claimed that if someone walked out through Kaiyuan Gate and turned left, every street in that district fell under his personal responsibility to sweep.
Xue Rengui knew it was complete nonsense. Even so, a small part of him could not help worrying. Su Dingfang had left yesterday afternoon carrying two large jugs of premium liquor. Xue Rengui sincerely hoped the general was not passed out in a roadside ditch somewhere. Missing a deployment order from the Supreme Commander was a very efficient way to lose one's head.
He made his way through the city by asking early-morning vendors for directions. Before long, the great arches of Kaiyuan Gate came into view.
The moment he saw who was waiting there, every concern about his commanding officer disappeared.
Two figures stood near the gate, waving both arms like they were trying to flag down a runaway horse.
One was a mountain of a man. The other was a skinny young noble. Both of them were shouting his name at the top of their lungs.
It was Su Dingfang and Pei Xingjian.
Xue Rengui quickened his pace into a jog.
Before he could even greet them, Su Dingfang shoved a cloth-wrapped bundle against his chest.
"Your relay station is on the opposite side of the city," the veteran grumbled. "Even if you ate before leaving, you have probably burned it all off getting here. Eat while it is still warm."
A warm feeling spread through Xue Rengui's chest, and it had nothing to do with the food.
He unfolded the cloth and found several oily flatbreads resting on top of a dozen plump steamed buns.
He stared silently at the impressive pile of food before looking back at Su Dingfang with a troubled expression.
"...Brother Dingfang."
"What?"
"How am I supposed to finish all of this?"
"If you cannot finish it, then pack the rest," Pei Xingjian said with a cheerful grin. "Trust me. Once we reach Liangzhou, you will think a plain steamed bun is the greatest delicacy under heaven. And I mean that literally! I have read about it in travel records! Soldiers on campaign often speak of nothing but food! It is a recurring theme in military memoirs! Some generals even write entire chapters about the importance of proper rations! It is fascinating, really, the psychological impact of hunger on troop morale. Did you know that"
"Pei Xingjian." Su Dingfang cut him off.
"What?"
"Shut up."
"I was just providing useful historical context!"
"You were providing a headache."
Pei Xingjian opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it. He settled for crossing his arms and muttering something under his breath.
Su Dingfang turned back to Xue Rengui with a smirk. "Do not worry about the food, kid. You will learn to eat fast. In the army, if you take too long to eat, the food disappears. It is a harsh lesson, but a necessary one."
He paused, then wiggled his eyebrows.
"Kind of like women. If you wait too long, someone else will snatch them up. That is also a harsh lesson, but a very enjoyable one to learn."
Pei Xingjian's face went red. "That is completely inappropriate! We are discussing military supplies! Why must you always turn everything into something indecent!"
"Because indecent things are the best things," Su Dingfang said with a grin. "You will understand someday, squirt. Just give it a few years."
"I am perfectly fine not understanding!"
Xue Rengui sighed and took a bite of his steamed bun. This was going to be a long campaign.
General Li Jing had not yet arrived at the staging ground, leaving everyone with a few quiet moments to spare.
Xue Rengui took the opportunity to finish his breakfast. As he chewed on a still-warm bun, his eyes wandered around the unfamiliar district. He had never visited this part of Chang'an before.
His attention eventually settled on a construction site near the main road. A group of civilian laborers were struggling with a maze of ropes and wooden scaffolding as they tried to raise a massive stone stele from a deep trench. Inch by inch, the monument rose toward its proper place.
The carved face was still tilted toward the sky, making the fresh inscription visible from a distance.
With eyesight far sharper than most and the advantage of his height, Xue Rengui narrowed his eyes and slowly read the characters.
"The Western Road... Nine thousand nine hundred li?"
The confusion in his voice caught Su Dingfang's attention.
"His Majesty wrote those words himself," the veteran explained. "The meaning could not be clearer. Great Tang intends to surpass even the Han Dynasty. The court is reopening the Western Regions, and before long, another ten thousand li will become part of the empire."
The explanation was simple. The ambition behind it was anything but.
Xue Rengui felt his pulse quicken.
Open the Western Regions. Expand the empire by ten thousand li.
For a man who dreamed of proving himself on the battlefield, there could hardly be a greater calling. If the Emperor truly intended to carry Tang's banners that far west, then Xue Rengui would gladly march until his feet bled and, if necessary, leave his bones beneath the sands to help make that vision a reality.
Standing beside him, Pei Xingjian was focused on something entirely different. He was too short to see the top of the monument over the crowd, but that did nothing to dampen his curiosity.
"Did you say His Majesty wrote it himself?" he asked, craning his neck. "I can make out the brushwork from here. It does not resemble the style of the Two Wangs, and it certainly is not flying white. What style is it? Is it a new style? Did His Majesty create it himself? That would be unprecedented! The Wangs have dominated calligraphy for centuries, and for someone to break away from their influence would require immense skill and innovation! Do you think he studied under someone, or did he develop it entirely on his own? If he did develop it on his own, that would make him a true master, a revolutionary, a—"
Su Dingfang cut him off with a sharp look.
"Pei Xingjian."
"What?"
"Breathe."
"I am breathing! I am always breathing! You do not need to remind me to breathe! That is a basic bodily function! I am perfectly capable of—"
"Pei Xingjian."
"What now?"
"Shut up."
Pei Xingjian opened his mouth, ready to argue, then stopped himself. His face was slightly red, but he settled for crossing his arms and muttering something about the importance of academic curiosity.
Su Dingfang turned his attention back to the monument. He knew the answer. Yan style.
He was a soldier, not a scholar. His skill with a brush could generously be described as terrible. Even so, the first time he had seen Draft of a Requiem to My Nephew, the sorrow contained within those bold strokes had nearly left him speechless.
The Emperor's love of calligraphy was no secret. It was easy enough to imagine Li Shimin experimenting with a heavier, more imposing script to match the ambition carved into this monument.
The thought should have ended there. Instead, Su Dingfang felt an uncomfortable knot tighten in his stomach.
Historically, Yan Zhenqing's calligraphy had not been born in an age of triumph. Every stroke carried the weight of a fractured empire. His loyalty, his suffering, and the devastation of the An Lushan Rebellion had shaped that style into what later generations admired.
Yet those same characters were now standing before him beneath the peaceful morning sky of Zhenguan's fourth year.
For a brief moment, the monument felt strangely out of place.
Su Dingfang quietly looked away and offered a silent prayer that the Great Tang would never have to pay the terrible price that history once demanded to create such writing.
Su Dingfang's brief moment of historical melancholy did not last long.
The rhythmic thunder of horses' hooves rolled down the street.
General Li Jing had arrived.
The man before them bore little resemblance to the calm strategist who usually lectured them in a quiet courtyard. Clad from head to toe in polished armor, he sat tall upon a powerful warhorse. Two disciplined squads of elite cavalry rode in tight formation behind him, while ten heavy wagons covered with thick canvas followed at the rear.
"Move out."
His voice was calm but carried the unmistakable authority of command. At that moment, he was no longer their instructor. He was the Supreme Commander of the Tang army.
A quartermaster soon led over a sturdy military horse for Xue Rengui.
Xue Rengui accepted the reins and gave the animal an appreciative pat on the neck. The horse looked strong, steady, and far better than anything he had expected. Grinning from ear to ear, he turned to show it off.
The words never left his mouth.
Su Dingfang and Pei Xingjian were both looking back toward the inner city.
Curious, Xue Rengui followed their gaze.
Far down the avenue, a small group stood by the roadside. An older woman dabbed her eyes with a silk handkerchief while waving with her other hand as though she could somehow delay their departure. Several armored estate guards stood behind her, each offering Su Dingfang a crisp military salute.
Xue Rengui quietly looked away. A faint sense of loneliness settled over him.
He had no family waiting in Chang'an to see him off. No one would wave until he disappeared over the horizon. No one would wait for news of his return.
He glanced at the half-eaten steamed bun in his hand and suddenly found it much harder to swallow.
Without a word, he turned back toward the road ahead.
By then, the laborers had finally finished raising the stone monument. The ropes creaked, the scaffolding groaned, and the massive stele slowly settled into its upright position.
It stood beside the road like a silent guardian.
Nine thousand nine hundred li.
Xue Rengui rested a hand on the smooth wood of his bow. The lonely feeling in his chest gradually faded, replaced by something steadier.
He had no family to send him off. But he had a destination worth riding toward.
He nudged his horse forward and cast one last look at the sprawling city of Chang'an. The rooftops, walls, and towers glowed beneath the morning sun.
Then he turned away. His eyes fixed firmly on Li Jing's back as the commander led the column west.
Su Dingfang's earlier words echoed in his mind. Great Tang would surpass the Han.
Instinctively, another saying surfaced from the depths of his memory. It was attributed to Liu Bang, the founding emperor of Han, and it perfectly matched the ambition burning inside him.
Xue Rengui threw back his head and laughed.
"To win merit and earn a name from the back of a warhorse!" he shouted into the morning wind. "That is how a man should live!"
Su Dingfang heard him and burst into hearty laughter.
"Well said!"
With an enthusiastic tug of the reins, he urged his horse into a faster pace. Pei Xingjian, who was sharing the saddle behind him, grabbed onto the veteran's armor with both hands.
"Brotherl! Warn me before you do that!"
"You will survive!"
"I would prefer to survive comfortably! And I would also prefer to survive with all my internal organs still in their proper places! Do you have any idea how jarring that was? I was in the middle of contemplating the historical significance of this campaign, and suddenly my entire worldview shifted because you decided to play cavalry commander without warning! That is not how you treat a fellow officer! That is not how you treat anyone! Even a horse deserves a gentle tug before—"
"Pei Xingjian."
"What?"
"Shut up."
"I am not going to shut up! I am expressing a legitimate concern about my personal safety! That is a reasonable thing to express! If you cannot handle basic communication, that is your problem, not mine!"
Su Dingfang laughed even louder and urged the horse forward again. Pei Xingjian yelped and grabbed on tighter.
"I said warn me!"
"You are still alive, are you not?"
"That is not the point!"
"It is exactly the point."
Xue Rengui watched the exchange and could not help shaking his head. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
The army continued westward, and before long, the imperial capital disappeared into the dust behind them.
---
Decades earlier, in the seventeenth year of Jian'an. Early February. Chengdu.
Liu Bei reined in his horse beside the rushing waters of the Han River. He remained still in the saddle as his eyes followed the endless formation of armored soldiers marching along the winding Jinniu Road.
His thoughts drifted back to the day he had ridden out of Chengdu.
He remembered the common people gathering outside the city gates, pleading with him not to leave. He remembered Lady Wu standing among them, her face wet with tears.
He let out a low breath.
"A true man of ambition should be exactly like this," Liu Bei murmured.
Zhuge Liang, riding beside him on a white horse, caught the remark. He gave his feather fan a slow wave and smiled.
"We are on our way to Hanzhong, my lord," Zhuge Liang said. "Does that saying remind you of Gaozu?"
Liu Bei nodded. Respect filled his expression.
"Gaozu built his foundation in Ba, Shu, and Hanzhong," he replied. "From there, he marched out to seize the Three Qins, defeated Xiang Yu at Gaixia, and founded a dynasty whose legacy still endures."
His gaze lingered on the rugged mountains ahead.
"Hanzhong is where our Han first found its footing. In many ways, it feels like the dynasty's homeland. Yet now that I am finally marching to reclaim it, I find myself hesitating."
Zhuge Liang understood exactly what weighed on his lord's mind. Rather than dwell on the burden of history, he gently steered the conversation elsewhere.
"The Jinniu Road is in much better condition than before," Zhuge Liang said, gesturing ahead with his feather fan. "Yide's men widened the road and reinforced the mountain paths. We also issued proper leg wrappings to the army, so the soldiers can march farther with less fatigue."
The mention of the road brought a genuine smile to Liu Bei's face.
He still remembered those discussions in Chengdu.
After taking control of the government storehouses, Zhuge Liang had immediately begun reorganizing every available resource. Nothing was left sitting idle if it could serve the campaign.
Among the supplies was a large stockpile of raw iron that had never been put to use.
Instead of turning it into more weapons, Zhuge Liang ordered the blacksmiths to forge picks, hammers, chisels, and other construction tools. Those tools were distributed to Zhang Fei's vanguard. As the army advanced through the mountains, detachments remained behind to widen narrow paths, break apart exposed rock, and level dangerous stretches of road.
Everyone understood why the work mattered.
Whether they captured Hanzhong or not, the route between Chengdu and the northern frontier would become one of Shu's most important military lifelines. Investing in the road now would pay dividends for years to come.
Liu Bei also remembered something he had seen on the light screen.
According to that strange glimpse into the future, after pacifying Yizhou, the Shu army had spent nearly six months simply marching to Hanzhong. With that lesson in mind, Liu Bei had approved Zhuge Liang's proposal to improve the roads without the slightest hesitation.
Now, as he watched his army advance steadily along the widened mountain paths, he knew the decision had been worthwhile. Every piece of iron spent on those roads had returned its value many times over.
"Once we reach Hanzhong, my lord," Zhuge Liang said, "Cao Cao will certainly make his move."
Liu Bei's expression turned solemn.
"That old thief fears nothing more than seeing Hanzhong fall into our hands," he said. "If we secure that land, he will lose sleep every night worrying that the Han might rise again."
He tightened his grip on the reins.
"But Hanzhong alone is not enough. If we cannot win the hearts of its people, then it is nothing more than a dangerous fortress waiting to become our grave. If the people truly stand with us, then even without vast territory, our cause can still endure."
Zhuge Liang's smile deepened. Folding his feather fan, he lightly tapped it against his palm.
"Since my lord already sees the heart of the matter," he said, "our next step is clear. We must eventually march into the Three Qins and restore order to Guanzhong. Only then can the suffering there come to an end."
The mention of Guanzhong made Liu Bei heave another breath. He had no desire to dwell on the misery consuming that land. Years of war had left countless villages in ruin, and the people had suffered enough.
His gaze swept across the marching army one last time. The soldiers advanced in orderly ranks. Some chatted with the comrades beside them, while others laughed as they walked. The difficult mountain road no longer felt quite so daunting.
Seeing that, Liu Bei felt reassured.
He gave the reins a firm tug and turned his horse toward the north.
"Let us ride," he said. "Hanzhong is still three to five days away."
The political situation in Chengdu had demanded careful planning. Before setting out for Hanzhong, Liu Bei needed someone capable of governing Yizhou in his absence.
Instead of choosing one of the more obvious candidates, he appointed Zhang Song as Governor of Chengdu.
Liu Ba, meanwhile, took over Zhuge Liang's former responsibilities, overseeing the industrial workshops and the newly established academies.
Zhang Song was an exceptionally capable administrator, but ability alone was never enough for such an important position. Reliability mattered more.
Liu Bei disliked admitting it, but Zhang Song was probably the safest choice in all of Yizhou because he stood completely alone. He had no powerful faction behind him and no influential allies to support him.
The reason was embarrassingly simple. He was astonishingly ugly.
Under the Han system, appearance carried surprising weight. A man could cultivate his learning, polish his manners, and earn a reputation through hard work, but none of that changed a face that society had already decided was unfortunate.
Zhang Song had drawn the short straw in every possible way. He was short, his features were widely mocked, and he lacked the commanding presence expected of a high official. Put simply, he looked like a starved monkey dressed in official robes.
Fortunately for him, Liu Bei had always preferred capable ministers over handsome ones. It was not exactly a high bar, but Zhang Song cleared it easily.
Since the rest of the world had spent years overlooking him, Zhang Song regarded Liu Bei's trust as a gift he could never repay. His loyalty never came into question. The man would probably have thrown himself off a cliff if Liu Bei asked him to.
His older brother, Zhang Su, only made the contrast even more striking.
Despite sharing the same parents, Zhang Su seemed to have taken all the family's good looks for himself. He was tall, dignified, and carried himself like the very image of a noble gentleman. It was as if the heavens had given one brother everything and the other nothing.
For years, that appearance had opened every door. Under both Liu Yan and Liu Zhang, Zhang Su enjoyed a smooth official career, while Zhang Song struggled in obscurity despite being the more talented of the two. It was an irony neither brother could escape.
Everything changed after Liu Bei entered Yizhou.
Zhang Song's abilities finally found the recognition they deserved. Zhang Su's handsome face, unfortunately, proved much less useful once people started expecting results.
The year before, Liu Bei had launched a campaign against the southern tribes. Officially, it was a pacification campaign. Unofficially, it was an excellent excuse to see which snakes would crawl out of the grass.
Zhang Su wasted no time revealing himself.
Interrogations of captured tribal leaders uncovered a network that had been passing military intelligence back to Chengdu before forwarding it to Zhang Yu in Jiangling. At the center of that network stood the handsome, the talented, the utterly useless Zhang Su.
The matter was resolved quickly. To save his life, Zhang Su surrendered his entire fortune. He was stripped of his titles and offices before being reduced to the status of a commoner. All that beauty, and it could not buy him a single official post.
When Liu Bei's army departed for Hanzhong, Zhang Song had knelt at Wanli Bridge and wept without the slightest concern for his dignity. Tears and snot covered his face as he swore to protect Yizhou until his lord returned. It was not a pretty sight, but it was sincere.
Remembering that scene left Liu Bei with mixed feelings.
The Zhang brothers were a strange pair. One had remarkable talent but had been denied opportunity because of his appearance. The other had every advantage his appearance could offer, yet lacked the ability to match it.
The first had once considered abandoning his old lord in search of a better ruler. The second had nearly betrayed his new lord for the old order. Life had an odd sense of humor.
Liu Bei let out a low breath and pushed those thoughts aside. There would be time to think about Chengdu after Hanzhong was secured.
If he allowed his mind to wander any further, it would inevitably return to the family he had left behind, and to the conversations with Lady Wu that still remained unfinished.
Some things were better left for later.
Liu Bei rubbed his forehead with his knuckles, pushing aside the distractions that had crept into his thoughts. When he looked back at Zhuge Liang, his expression had become serious once more.
"Kongming, give me a timeline. When will Xiahou Yuan make his move?"
Zhuge Liang answered without hesitation. The campaign had already been mapped out countless times in his mind.
"If he proceeds cautiously, he should begin his offensive around the middle of the second month. If he moves aggressively, he could attack within the next few days."
He raised his feather fan and pointed toward the northern mountains.
"When Cao Cao acts, his first target will be Guanzhong," Zhuge Liang said. "He will launch a massive offensive there to draw everyone's attention north. Once the world is watching Guanzhong, he will strike Jingzhou by surprise."
Liu Bei nodded. The prediction aligned with his own judgment.
"Then Yunchang and Yuanzhi need only hold Jingzhou," he said. "As long as they keep their territory, the eastern front will remain secure."
His gaze shifted toward the distant horizon.
"As for us, our objective is clear. We defeat Xiahou Yuan, capture Chang'an, and break his control over Guanzhong. Tong Pass is important, but it is not our true goal. If Chang'an falls, the initiative will be ours."
As Liu Bei and Zhuge Liang refined their plans along the muddy stretches of the Jinniu Road, another scene was unfolding hundreds of miles to the north.
On the windswept watchtowers overlooking the Wuzhang Plains, a sentry suddenly froze. His eyes widened.
Without another thought, he seized the wooden mallet beside him and slammed it into the bronze alarm gong. The deep metallic clang echoed across the camp.
Again.
And again.
Leaning over the railing, he drew a breath so deep it hurt before shouting with all the strength in his lungs.
"Enemy attack!"
His voice carried across the plain.
"Enemy attack!"