Chapter Forty-Three: Grievances and Gratitude

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The Tang army gathered in the Gilgit Valley numbered ten thousand men in total. Among them, three thousand were garrison troops from Shule Town, two thousand from the Bokhwan Fort, and two thousand from the Yutian Town, all transferred from outside. The local garrison, known as the Guiren Army, comprised three thousand men.

The entire camp stretched along the river valley, each unit with its own training ground. Liu Ji’s two squads were stationed together with a thousand local garrison troops, under the command of Tian Zhen, the Guiren Army’s commander.

When Feng Changqing and the others arrived, they witnessed the final scene. Li Siye and Tian Zhen exchanged a glance; the latter shook his head in confusion—those skills were certainly not ones he had taught.

Listening to Liu Ji recount how he had killed Danangqi had already seemed incredible. Now, seeing it firsthand, it was clear that though the young man lacked in brute strength, he possessed the skill to confront masters in combat.

There were too many people; squeezed among the crowd, Liu Ji hadn’t noticed their arrival. What mattered to him now was not catching up to Zhang Wujia, but taking advantage of the moment to forge his absolute authority before his own men—that was his true purpose in targeting Zhang Wujia.

In the army, strength is paramount.

At this moment, the ordinary soldiers who looked at him now did so with awe. The squad leaders and vice-captains, headed by Xu Guangjing, had complex expressions, knowing the inside story.

“You all saw the sparring with Deputy Zhang just now. On the battlefield, there’s no luck; defeat means death. If you don’t want to die, what should you do?”

When all eyes were upon him, he waved his hand fiercely.

“Slaughter them!”

The effect was excellent. Though no one cheered, the soldiers’ eyes blazed with eagerness. The word “slaughter” was more fitting than “kill,” for it signified the strength of a true warrior—no one wanted to be weak.

“The barbarian invaders are ferocious and cruel, skilled in martial arts, equipped with fine weapons and armor, fighting on their own ground. Last time we scouted, nine men went, only two returned. Why?”

“Because their skills were lacking. What does it mean to master your skills? Train to my level, or Deputy Zhang’s—would that suffice?”

“Not nearly enough!”

Liu Ji pointed toward the river valley. “What terrain is this? Narrow, uneven, surrounded by mountains and valleys, with nowhere to deploy large formations. That means battle here will be fought in small groups. Solo combat and two- or three-man teamwork will be our focus. Tomorrow, new training regulations will be issued. If you want to achieve merit, if you want to survive, then give it your all and train as if your life depends on it. I don’t want to see any of your names on the casualty list.”

He looked pointedly at Xu Guangjing and the others, who immediately understood—they were being called to make a statement.

“We obey your orders.”

Without time for hesitation, Xu Guangjing led his men forward and saluted.

“Take everyone back. Have the cook buy a sheep; the cost will come from my share. Let everyone have a good meal today—but no alcohol.”

As he finished, those with sharp ears cheered immediately. What could be more tangible than a hearty meal?

Feng Changqing silently praised him. To understand both reward and punishment, that was the essence of command. No wonder this young man forsook letters for arms—he was born to be a general.

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“Disperse, everyone.”

With the excitement over, Tian Zhen waved his hand and sent the onlookers away. Hearing his voice, Liu Ji finally noticed their group and hurried forward to salute.

“You, if you don’t stir up some trouble, you’re not Wulang. Is your injury fully healed?” Feng Changqing’s words were more indulgent than admonishing.

“Heh, it’s long healed. My hands itched and I couldn’t hold back. These rascals all have their noses in the air; without a beating, how can they be convinced?”

“You just said there won’t be any major battles here. What did you mean?” Now that it wasn’t a private quarrel, Feng Changqing felt at ease.

“It’s simple. From here all the way to Great Bolü, it’s mountain forest. No room for large armies. Not to mention ten thousand, even five thousand troops would be too many. The court’s mobilization likely has other motives beyond the obvious.”

This youngster had guessed it again. Feng Changqing wasn’t sure if he should call him sharp-witted or imaginative. In reality, among the five-pronged attack, the Anxi route was the remotest, its role quite limited. Deploying ten thousand here was to lure the Tubo into action, but their response seemed to indicate abandonment—they had withdrawn to the opposite bank of the Boyi River.

“Perhaps there will be no fight. If the Tubo cut the vine bridge, we’d be powerless to act.” Tian Zhen interjected, hoping to divert the conversation from future reckoning.

Liu Ji didn’t believe it. The chronicles were clear: this battle marked the beginning of Feng Changqing’s leadership in Anxi. Since the outcome was destined, he believed the process wouldn’t stray far.

Moreover, he had other concerns.

Though he didn’t know why he was shown favor, now that he had a patron, Liu Ji naturally hoped that patron would last. Historically, Feng Changqing’s end was tragic. He couldn’t influence the court, but he could try to alter small things and nudge history. If Feng Changqing achieved better results in this battle than recorded, it was worth a try—could it get any worse?

A thought occurred: “Have the Tubo already cut the vine bridge?”

“Patrols report they have not.”

That was odd. If they’d truly decided to abandon the area, cutting the bridge would have settled it. Recalling Xidongzan’s historical reputation, Liu Ji suddenly suspected other intentions.

“Do you have a new scheme?” Li Siye asked, surprised that a mere garrison leader was so concerned with enemy movements.

“I have an immature idea—not ready to share yet.”

He wasn’t worried about secrecy; it was simply too fantastical to say early.

Seeing his reluctance, Feng Changqing decided not to press. It was rare for someone’s mind to be on the right track; he was more pleased than anything. Before leaving, he gave Liu Ji one final reminder.

“That Zhang Wujia comes from a modest family but has a good name in the army. Even if you don’t want him in your squad, find a way to transfer him, but there’s no need for bloodshed.”

“I will remember.”

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Such a prompt reply? Feng Changqing gave him a long look, abandoning further persuasion. Saying more might not help and could even have the opposite effect.

As deputy garrison chief, Zhang Wujia’s tent was shared with Xu Guangjing; only Liu Ji had his own tent, owing to his rank and injury.

When the tent flap was lifted, Zhang Wujia thought Xu Guangjing had entered. To his surprise, it was the person he hated most.

“Are you really leaving?”

“Do you think I jest? Rest assured, a man’s word is his bond. I’ve told Commander Duan: the quarrel was my own doing, none of it will involve you.”

Zhang Wujia thought he was being hurried out and had nothing pleasant to say.

“Who said you should leave? I’m here to discuss something. Your daughter—I’ll have her sent home. Can this resolve the enmity?”

“You?” Zhang Wujia’s eyes widened in rage, his hands and feet trembling. Had they not just fought, he would have leapt at him.

“Add some compensation—would that do?”

Zhang Wujia could no longer restrain himself. He jumped up and confronted Liu Ji. “You’ve beaten and punished me, and now you want to harm my daughter? What reason is there?”

“Who says I want to harm your daughter?”

“Her chastity ruined by you—she’s discarded, left with only death or life as a nun. If that isn’t harm, what is? If you have a grudge, settle it with me; why hurt my daughter?”

Liu Ji was speechless, feeling utterly at a loss. He was following modern thinking, believing returning the girl and paying compensation would suffice, even if it cost more. Yet in this era, ruining a girl’s virtue and sending her home was no different from murder.

What to do now? He had no idea. If she stayed, he’d be hostile; if she was sent back, he’d fight to the death. Liu Ji steeled himself—since he was already branded a villain, he might as well play the part to the end.

“Enough. If you want your daughter to fare well, you must stay.”

“What?” Zhang Wujia was stunned.

“Remember this: if anything happens to me—illness or injury, or a hair lost in battle—I’ll sell your daughter to the Sogdians.”

With that, he didn’t even look at Zhang Wujia and slammed the tent flap shut as he left.

What a mess this was!