Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Visitor

In ancient times, the bond between master and disciple was a relationship of profound importance, often rivaling that of father and son.

Unsure of the situation, Liu Ji chose a clever approach. He did not scan the crowd with his eyes, as that would be far too conspicuous; instead, he bowed his head, giving his opponents no chance to observe him. Then, he subtly shifted his position so his front faced as many people as possible, clasped his hands together, and bowed.

“Your disciple has failed in his duties; I beg my master’s forgiveness.”

As expected, a coarse, gruff voice immediately responded, picking up his words, “Enough, you’ve returned from a perilous journey, wounded as well. It is I who should have come to see you.”

He rose quickly and caught sight of the speaker—a burly man, not as tall as Li Siyi, his face full of heavy, brutish features with a square skull so robust that his neck was barely visible. His appearance was rough, like a fierce deity.

“Oh, come off it, Tian Ma, dropping the master act. If it hadn’t been for my concession back then, you wouldn’t have taken Wulang as your disciple.”

“You brute, stop your nonsense. If you want to revisit who did what, shall we hash it out, brother?” The man retorted without yielding.

Liu Ji, along with the others, laughed as they watched the two banter, evidently accustomed to such exchanges.

At that moment, Liu Ji was so grateful to Li Siyi he wished he could embrace him. It was truly like falling asleep and having someone deliver a pillow—Li Siyi’s words had effortlessly revealed this man’s identity.

In the sixth year of Tianbao, Gao Xianzhi’s famed battle was fought here…in Little Bolü. The pivotal confrontation was at Lianyun Fortress, heavily guarded by the Tibetans. The fortress perched atop a mountain, surrounded on three sides by sheer cliffs, easy to defend and hard to attack.

To seize this stronghold quickly, Gao Xianzhi issued a deadly order. Leading the vanguard alongside Li Siyi was a military officer named Tian Zhen; the two served as left and right commanders of the sword-wielding troops. Li Siyi had Tian Zhen launch a frontal assault to distract the enemy, while he led a surprise force up the cliffs, unexpectedly capturing the summit.

After the battle, Li Siyi was promoted to fortress commander, while Tian Zhen was ordered to garrison the area, becoming the newly appointed commander of the Returnee Army of the Tang. No wonder he was sent for reconnaissance—the terrain and language were his own, and no one was surprised; this was his territory.

Though their words were sharp, the two elders were clearly on excellent terms. Feng Changqing ignored their squabbles, bringing the others forward to stand before them.

“This is Lord Duan, whom I mentioned earlier—Liu Wulang.” Then he turned to the others, introducing those behind him: “Liang, commander of Bohuan Fortress; Yang, governor of Yutian; Li Fei Yuanli, general of the Congling garrison; Ma Lin, commander of Diezhou; Yang Yu, lieutenant—all colleagues, rarely gathered, so let us become acquainted.”

“Liu Ji greets you all.”

“Duan Xiushi, at your service.”

“Liang.”

“Yang He, an old man.”

…

After this round of greetings, everyone knew each other’s identity. For Liu Ji, these names were both familiar and unfamiliar—familiar because nearly all were historical figures, yet it was the first time he matched faces to names.

Liang, commander of Bohuan Fortress, an average-looking man of medium stature, would later succeed Feng Changqing as governor of the Four Garrisons, orchestrating the Anxi troops’ support for the court. He was Feng’s trusted protégé.

Yang He, governor of Yutian and father of Yang Yu, appeared as a harmless smiling elder. In a year, he would be promoted for his accumulated merits to General of the Right Imperial Guard and Deputy Governor of the Four Garrisons. Sadly, he would die of illness two years later, otherwise he might have succeeded Feng Changqing. He was a veteran of Anxi, commanding the Yutian garrison and ruling over the kingdom of Yutian.

Li Fei Yuanli, now only a garrison general, would become Li Siyi’s deputy during the An Lushan Rebellion, and, after Li’s sacrifice, lead the reinforcement troops of Anxi and Beiting as acting commander of the two garrisons. He was a deep-set, curly-haired man of foreign descent.

Ma Lin would be the most outstanding among them, eventually ennobled and remembered in history. Now only thirty, he was in his prime, full of vigor and ambition.

With these men, plus the bickering Li Siyi and Tian Zhen, nearly all the strength of the Four Garrisons of Anxi was assembled here—ready to face the Tibetans hundreds of miles away.

Reflecting on history, Liu Ji suddenly understood—their gathering was for the campaign that would mark the last expansion of the Tang realm, Feng Changqing’s famed battle.

The conquest of Great Bolü.

If not for his own crossing into this world, the original owner of this body would have been the first casualty among the Tang soldiers. His presence or absence would not change the outcome of the war.

So what was the meaning of his existence?

Lost in thought, Liu Ji heard a voice calling him.

“Wulang, tell us more about what you mentioned earlier.”

Feng Changqing’s voice was not loud, but the two quarrelling men, on the verge of blows, fell silent at once, and the others also stopped talking, all eyes turning to the unremarkable old man.

It was no wonder that this man, with no dazzling battle record, had become master of the Western Regions; those gathered here were his cadre.

On the day Liu Ji awoke, Xi Dongzan returned to Hepulao city with his thousand light cavalry. He showed little emotion at the departure of Zeng Jiuniang, not even inquiring where she had gone.

After several tiring days, his efforts yielded nothing. He showed no disappointment upon returning to his residence, tossed his horse to the servants, shed his robe as he walked, dropping it on the floor, and entered his inner chamber, naked.

“Do not be afraid. Come here.”

Indeed, a new Bolü girl knelt on a cushion, head bowed, motionless. He called her twice before she looked up, eyes wide with terror.

“You look just like her. Are you sisters?” The girl remained silent. He didn’t mind, went over, squatted down, and lifted her chin with his finger.

Her eyes were full of confusion, uncertain as she stared at him. Clever—he’d chosen one who didn’t understand Tibetan?

Xi Dongzan smiled with satisfaction, pushed her down onto the rug, and threw himself upon her.

…

A few moments later, he sat up and spoke toward the open door.

“Well? Have you seen enough?”

“Shall I be honest?” A man’s voice, along with its owner, drifted in. “Is your tribe’s fiercest warrior only possessed of so little stamina?”

Xi Dongzan, utterly unabashed, laughed heartily as he lay naked.

“If you doubt me, we can have a match—you with a blade, I empty-handed.”

“Now that’s a Tibetan,” the man replied with a smile. “If you have any strength left, we can continue our talk. Let your new pet leave first—her beautiful body is sure to distract any man.”

“She doesn’t understand Tibetan,” Xi Dongzan said, not even glancing at the trembling body he had just tormented. “Even if she did, I doubt she would speak of it.”

“Well then, noble Nanang Shangjiezan Lanang, what do you wish to discuss?”