Chapter Forty-Seven: Speed Is of the Essence in Warfare

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Slaughtering meritorious ministers is, by and large, a pastime favored by every emperor. Few rulers have ever dared to employ men without suspicion. Those ministers upon whom they once depended become tomorrow’s power brokers, and the ruler, seeking balance, cannot allow them to linger—after all, the term “solitary sovereign” is not mere empty words.

Though Sun Jian was a straightforward general, not prone to the paranoia that consumed Cao Cao, the blade of distrust still hung between lord and vassal. The current circumstances would not allow Jiang Wen to hide away; if he were to seclude himself like Sima Yi, then it would not be Sun Jian holding the emperor hostage, but rather Cao Mengde.

Fortunately, Jiang Wen held no real authority at the moment; the situation had not yet reached the stage where the hare is slain and the hound boiled. Since he has now stepped into the light, he must proceed with caution. The sword Sun Jian once pressed against his neck still sends shivers down his spine whenever he recalls it.

Within the splendor of Xiangyang’s palace, a vibrant, handsome young man gazed at the bamboo scroll in his hands. Liu Xie was overwhelmed by grief—Lu Kang had passed away.

This loyal old minister of the Han, Liu Xie knew, had always stood by the imperial house. Now, with Sun Jian propping him up as a mere puppet, he was nothing but an emperor in name.

When the Han ministers came to pledge their allegiance, Liu Xie thought perhaps his suffering would soon end. He hoped to topple Sun Jian by leveraging the strength of the noble clans behind his ministers.

Yet now Lu Kang was dead, and the once faithful Lu clan wavered in their loyalty. His strongest pillar had fallen—how could he not be heartbroken?

“The Minister of the Secretariat, Sun Shao, requests Your Majesty’s approval!”

In Sun Ce’s camp, the army had been drilling for several days. Lü Meng and Sun Ce lifted the tent flaps and entered Jiang Wen’s quarters.

Jiang Wen had already prepared bowls and chopsticks; Lü Meng and Sun Ce hurried to fill their plates, savoring the five-spiced meat Jiang Wen had cooked.

Lü Meng smacked his lips, tasted carefully, then remarked, “Ah, Changsu, your wife’s cooking still has the edge over yours…”

“Where is Gongjin?” Jiang Wen asked Sun Ce.

“He went early to listen to music with Leyao,” Sun Ce replied, shaking his head in mild disappointment. “We’re about to march against Yan Baihu, yet Gongjin has allowed himself to be lost in gentle pleasures…”

Jiang Wen smiled lightly. “Victory is decided in the temple before the battle is ever fought. Brother Gongjin’s wisdom far surpasses mine; if he is so relaxed, it must be because he already holds victory in his grasp.”

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Hearing this, Lü Meng and Sun Ce exchanged glances and shook their heads, thinking Jiang Wen modest. The current success of their army was inseparable from Jiang Wen’s efforts; in their minds, Gongjin could not compare to him.

Jiang Wen asked Sun Ce, “Have we received the imperial decree we requested?”

Sun Ce nodded, “It arrived yesterday. Gongjin told me that as soon as the decree arrived, the army should set out for a night assault. I didn’t understand his reasoning, so I held back.”

“Gongjin’s words are correct,” Jiang Wen said solemnly. “The decree instructs you, Bofu, to send a trusted agent by fast horse to Yan Baihu, and also to summon all the camp generals to prepare their armor and ready the troops!”

Sun Ce nodded, uncertain of the purpose but resolved to obey. “Should I summon Gongjin as well?”

Jiang Wen replied, “Someone must stay and guard Moling. Let Gongjin remain; lovers should not be disturbed in their reverie.”

After eating and drinking their fill, Sun Ce and Lü Meng left to handle their own affairs.

“It’s been a year already…” Jiang Wen sat kneeling on the mat. Outside, the sound of shouts echoed as the camp was being packed up for the march.

Zhou Yu sat in his bamboo pavilion, warming wine in his hands, gazing at the distant army. Leyao nodded gently and asked, “Will you not join the expedition, young master?”

Zhou Yu smiled without answering, sipping his wine.

The army set out under cover of night. Lü Meng rode up beside Jiang Wen. “Changsu, Yan Baihu’s self-proclaimed kingship is pure rebellion. Even if the decree is sent, he won’t meekly surrender the city!”

Hooves thundered and dust rose along the road. Jiang Wen called out loudly, “Ziming, how many days from Moling to Wu Commandery?”

“It’s at least eight hundred li. Normally, an army would take twenty days, but at our pace, we’ll arrive in just four!”

“And when Yan Baihu receives the decree, where will he think our army is?”

“He’ll believe we’re still at Moling…” Lü Meng suddenly understood and looked at Jiang Wen.

Jiang Wen smiled, “The essence of warfare is speed!”

Wu Commandery was a rich city, with over ten subordinate towns. Dantu especially was a tapestry of plains and hills, fertile lands famed for their abundance of fish and rice—a realm of breathtaking beauty and natural treasures.

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Yet, for all of Jiangdong’s prosperity, Sun Ten-Thousand was still being ground down by Zhang Liao at Hefei.

In the grand hall of Wu Commandery, a figure stood, rough-featured and dark-skinned. Yan Baihu turned the imperial decree over and over in his hands, struggling to decipher it. Unable to read a single character, he laughed and said to his officers, “The cloth’s nice enough, though!”

“Prime Minister Zhang, come read this decree for me—what does it say?”

Zhang, a storyteller from the area brought in for his literacy, replied, “As you command, my lord.” He took the decree and read aloud, “The founder declares: those who claim kingly titles without the Liu surname shall be opposed by all under heaven. I come, bearing the emperor’s mandate, to punish the traitors. How dare you not bow your head and offer your neck for execution!”

“My lord, this decree is Sun Jian’s insult to you!”

Yan Baihu sneered, “Sun Jian is nothing but a pig. If he wants to play games with me, let him come and try to kill me!”

Zhang advised, “My lord, don’t underestimate him! Sun Jian slew Dong Zhuo himself, and his son Sun Ce recently defeated Liu Yao and captured Moling!”

Yan Baihu laughed, “Prime Minister Zhang, you jest. Dong Zhuo was nothing—less than a pig. Twenty thousand troops routed by Sun Jian’s three thousand; if I had twenty thousand, I’d have beaten them so badly their own mothers wouldn’t recognize them! Liu Yao was useless, couldn’t even hold his city. In all the land, I alone dare call myself king. The others lack even that courage—they’re mere pretenders!”

Zhang bowed respectfully, “The lord speaks true. All the other warlords are nothing; you are destined for greatness, your name will echo through the ages! Still… even so, my lord must remain vigilant.”

Yan Baihu waved his hand, “Prime Minister, tell me: how many days from Moling to Wu Commandery?”

“Twenty days.”

“Then what’s there to worry about? This decree came by fast horse. If Sun Ce wants to attack Moling, it’ll be at least ten days before he can move. Give orders—have the army assemble and prepare at the city gates in eight days to meet Sun Ce in battle!”