Chapter Twenty-Five: Man Proposes, Heaven Disposes (Part One)

Cai Prefecture, County Town of Ruyang, the Prefect’s Residence—also the Prince of Yue’s residence.

In the dead of night, Li Zhen himself carried a lantern, accompanied by his confidant, the county magistrate of Ruyang and also his son-in-law, Pei Shoude. Together, they entered a secret chamber behind the study.

The room was bare, four walls and four mats set opposite one another. On one mat, a figure dressed in black sat, his back to the door.

Hearing someone enter, the man in black rose and saluted. “Your Highness.” His eyes were covered with a black cloth, his hands bound, yet he made no attempt to struggle.

“You still refuse to say who sent you?” Li Zhen, now over sixty, with only a trace of black left in his beard and hair, his old face lined and furrowed, could not conceal the pride and confidence of royal blood.

“I cannot say,” the man in black replied calmly.

Li Zhen sighed and sat cross-legged on the opposite mat. “Why has the world grown so harsh? We are both kin of the Li family—must we still guard against one another so closely? Do you truly think I would repay kindness with betrayal?”

Pei Shoude stood respectfully beside Li Zhen. “Honorable gentleman, you came unarmed, submitted willingly to capture, your sincerity is moving. Yet, in these perilous times, we must be cautious. There are no outsiders here. If you would reveal your master’s identity, it would put us at ease.”

The man in black shook his head. “The dangers here are nothing compared to those at court. My master acts out of goodwill, wishing only to lend a hand where possible. Whether Your Highness trusts us is for you to decide.”

Li Zhen’s brow furrowed, barely suppressing his anger. “If your master truly has a conscience, why not stand with me and join in great deeds? Cowards and shameless men, hiding in the comfort of Chang’an, kneeling daily before our enemies, sending someone in secret only to collect my corpse, skulking and cowering! I feel nothing but shame—deep shame.”

Li Zhen’s rage boiled over as he shouted. Pei Shoude hastened to calm him. “Father-in-law, please restrain your anger. The nobles in the capital face their own hardships. The Empress wields absolute power, her claws reach everywhere; they can scarcely move. That they’re willing to extend a helping hand is already rare. Besides, the situation grows ever more dire…” He paused, then added, “You are loyal, brave, and wise beyond measure; you do not deserve the fate of having no heir.”

Li Zhen’s face twisted with mockery. “I possess great wealth and vast lands. Is that what your master desires?”

“Your Highness jests. I came not for gain,” replied the man in black with a bitter smile. This prince’s sharp tongue was certainly unique.

“Hmph.” Li Zhen snorted and turned away. Pei Shoude understood his meaning. “Honorable gentleman, my father-in-law has a young son, only two years old. Please, take him from the prince’s residence and find him a way to survive.”

“I will obey,” the man in black replied without hesitation.

Li Zhen himself stepped forward to untie him. “I have eight loyal men, bound to me as brothers. I entrust them all to your master. They will protect my son.”

“Father-in-law, is this wise?” Pei Shoude was slightly surprised. He had heard of these eight men, but they had always remained in the shadows, never seen. “Should they not be called out for instructions?”

“No need.” Li Zhen glanced around the empty walls, a faint smile on his lips.

“Your Highness, my master urges you to dispose of all documents and correspondence carefully to avoid implication. If it is inconvenient, we can handle this for you,” said the man in black, freed at last, bowing with clasped fists.

“In the end, it’s all about survival. Descendants of Emperor Taizong should not be so timid,” Li Zhen muttered, ignoring him, and strode into the darkness.

The man in black bowed deeply, then vanished with a few swift leaps.

Pei Shoude hurried after him. “Father-in-law, can this man be trusted? The Eight Riders are your personal guards—wouldn’t they be safer at your side?”

“They can be trusted, but not completely,” Li Zhen replied, not breaking stride. The cold wind stung his face, stirring his spirit. “The Eight Riders were men of the jianghu, born for freedom, not to be buried with me. All who can escape, should escape—let them go, let them go! Hahaha!”

His wild laughter startled a few crows from the cold branches, their cawing filling the night.

Xunyi County, Bian Prefecture—Central Army Camp.

Zhang Guangfu’s small eyes were filled with disbelief. His thick finger trembled as he pointed. “You delayed the military affairs, proved inept in battle, and caused a disaster. Men, take him out and behead him!”

“Prime Minister, spare me! Spare me!” The Yulin Guard captain kowtowed desperately. He had led over a thousand men to intercept Li Gui’s few hundred, but his eagerness for merit led to carelessness. Lured into pursuit by the enemy, their forces split into small units and infiltrated the granaries, setting them aflame. In the ensuing chaos, he turned back to save the grain, only to be ambushed—heavy casualties followed. Less than half the grain was saved.

“Take him out! Behead him!” Zhang Guangfu showed no mercy, his rotund body jumping up as he tossed down his fire stick. Guards seized the captain and dragged him out—only a single scream echoed before the severed head was displayed before all units.

Zhang Guangfu, ill at ease, had staked his own safety on the Yulin Guard, hoping they would win merit while the Qianniu Guard took the brunt of the risk. Yet things reversed: the Qianniu Guard annihilated the enemy’s main force and took their leader’s head, while the Yulin Guard suffered a crushing defeat, leaving him in an awkward position.

He spread open his documents to draft a memorial of self-reproach, but after a few lines, irritation overtook him. He called in his adviser to finish it. In his heart, resentment festered; to redeem this blunder, the rebellion must be suppressed with even greater force.

“Report! General Qu’s dispatch: the Left Martial Guard has completed the encirclement of Ruyang. The general invites Prime Minister to take command in person.”

“Excellent! Order the army to break camp at once. General Quan, ride with me!” Zhang Guangfu was visibly pleased. This was customary—the final blow would be delivered under the commander’s eye, securing all the glory.

“How is your leg, General?”

“It’s no longer a hindrance, thank you for your concern.”

“What are the casualties?”

“Eighteen dead or wounded, thank you for asking.”

In Zhang Guangfu’s carriage, he was all solicitude, while Quan Ce responded with practiced politeness. The two grew somewhat closer.

“Ah, all loyal warriors—no need for such formalities. Frankly, General, you once saved my life, and your Qianniu Guard fought like ten men each. I am truly impressed.” Zhang Guangfu spoke from the heart. The Qianniu Guard of Chang’an were mocked as mere embroidered pillows; those from the Eastern Capital were thought even worse—yet here they were, ferocious in battle, annihilating Li Gui’s entire force overnight.

“It is all due to the Empress’s blessing and your wise command, Prime Minister. I was merely lucky,” Quan Ce replied, though his heart was heavy. Forced to flatter and play along, he could not voice his frustration. Zhang Guangfu, thinking him simply inexperienced, offered comfort.

Upon reaching the city, Zhang Guangfu inspected the troops. The siege around Ruyang was as tight as an iron barrel; he lavished praise on Qu Chongyu.

Quan Ce saw and heard only desolation. The lands around Ruyang were a wasteland—collapsed walls, rivers of blood, heaps of corpses at every step. The dead dressed as commoners far outnumbered the soldiers.

He saw with his own eyes a commanding officer, mounted and armed, skewer a surviving child with his spear, waving the boy about for sport. The child did not die at once; his frail screams lasted for half a stick of incense before he finally succumbed.

Fury surged in Quan Ce’s heart; his hand slipped on his crossbow, sending a bolt flying, piercing the officer’s temple from left to right. The man died instantly.

Startled, hundreds of men began to gather. “Who are you? How dare you kill our officer?”

“Qianniu Guard, Eastern Capital,” replied Quan Ce’s men, unmoved. They pressed forward, bloodstained swords in hand, forcing the others to retreat.

Suddenly a report arrived: a small force had sallied from Ruyang’s west gate to seize provisions. Zhang Guangfu ordered all troops to join in the slaughter.

The officers seized the chance to turn away, shouting as they led their men toward the west gate, avoiding the Qianniu Guard. For a moment, Quan Ce even considered ordering his men to attack those brutes from behind.

“General, what shall we do?” Lu Jiong asked, his arm still bandaged.

“Our paths diverge. If they go west, we go east,” Quan Ce replied indifferently, leading his men to wander in the opposite direction.