Chapter 24: The Confident One

Under the cover of night, on the northern bank of the Fen River, Xu Huang reined in his horse, gazing out at the blurred surface of the river and the southern bank beyond.

A dozen of his fellow clansmen and core subordinates followed close behind. One of them could not help but ask, "Commander, will the Huben Battalion succeed?"

He had never been to the southern bank; when Xu Huang had crossed over, he had remained on the north to oversee the soldiers.

Xu Huang scratched his temple with his riding crop. "I have explained everything as clearly as I could to them. If they cannot hold their ground, what does it have to do with us? I, too, hope they can hold."

He truly hoped the Imperial Court would prove capable. The generals of the White Wave Army had become a burden to the court, and by extension, a heavy weight upon the shoulders of low-to-mid-level officers like themselves. As long as those White Wave generals existed, they would never earn the court's trust. And because they were not trusted, the court dared not incite them to action. Without an imperial decree, how could they—mere subordinates of those generals—dare to rebel? To act on their own initiative... how would that make them any different from the White Wave generals themselves?

The greatest variable right now was this Huben unit. From the moment of their formation, they were the Emperor’s personal guards; any action they took could be considered legitimate.

Inside the Huben camp, military banners were being distributed. They were old flags, or new ones fashioned from scavenged cloth and freshly dyed—none of them particularly vibrant. To Zhao Ji’s surprise, his plan for troop allocation was met with unanimous support. Neither Wei Gu nor Pei Xiu suggested a single addition, deletion, or modification. They cared nothing for the merit or the empty fame; whether it went to Zhao Ji, Wang Zhi, or anyone else was irrelevant to them.

In the camp, Zhao Ji wore a breastplate and a crimson cloak. Two holes had been cut into the back of his cloak, through which two rectangular red banners were thrust. He walked through the camp; only the parade ground was illuminated by bright campfires, while busy shadows moved everywhere else. The dried grass that had been spread in every barrack had been cleared away and piled in the corners; for the first half of the night, the men would sleep against those walls. In the heat of battle, the barracks themselves could be set ablaze to signal for reinforcements.

Zhao Ji arrived at the largest stable. The commander of the cavalry troop was Jia Tong, a man from Pingyang. He wore lacquered leather armor and a plain black cloak, with two rectangular yellow banners protruding from his back. Jia Tong was feeding the horses when he saw Zhao Ji approach and stepped forward. "Commander Zhao."

"Brother Wenzhen, how is it?"

"Everything has been instructed. When the gong sounds, we will charge." Jia Tong gestured toward the cavalrymen resting against the low walls. "As long as you can hold the line, the sons of the Northern Commandery will not show cowardice."

During the Spring and Autumn period, Jia Tong’s ancestors had served as ministers in the State of Jin in Pingyang, taking their clan name from their fief. Dynastic changes had never threatened a family of their stature, but the arrival of the Xiongnu was different—it was an existential threat that could lead to the extinction of the Jia clan.

Zhao Ji nodded. "Apart from my own men, the only ones I can rely on to fight the Xiongnu to the death are the brave youths of the northern commanderies. I will not say more: if I survive this night, my life’s mission will be to stand with you all and drive out the Xiongnu."

"Commander Zhao, there is no need for such words. This battle concerns the survival of our own families; who would dare not fight with everything they have?" Jia Tong understood that they were a newly integrated force, and the most lacking element was mutual trust.

The hardest part was always this first battle. The only good news was that men like Wang Zhi and Wei Gu were not interfering. Zhao Ji was a staunch hardliner, and he trusted the Huben troops from the northern counties, believing they possessed the strongest will to fight. If it were the thieves from Jishan, the northern Huben might not be like this, but tonight the enemy was the Xiongnu. There could be no mercy. Every enemy killed might mean a little less bullying for their children in the future.

After bowing solemnly to Jia Tong, Zhao Ji left and turned toward the nearby Logistics Office camp. The scattered grain and supplies had been consolidated and placed under the care of Jia Kui. When he arrived, Jia Kui was improving the carts. There were four frames in total, with firewood piled high in the beds and crossbars being nailed to the shafts. The plan was to ignite the firewood and have the soldiers push the carts into the enemy’s infantry and cavalry.

Jia Kui greeted Zhao Ji. Seeing the sword at Zhao Ji’s left hip and the quiver at his right, and the guards behind him armed with iron halberds, long swords, bows, and crossbows, the two chatted at the entrance. After a brief exchange of information, as they were about to part ways, Jia Kui suddenly asked, "After we repel the Xiongnu, if any White Wave general comes tomorrow to seize control of the troops, do you have the courage to kill him, A-Ji?"

"Brother, why such a prediction?"

"It is merely a matter of putting oneself in their shoes. If I were one of those generals, I would pursue the Xiongnu after they attacked, 'rescue' the Huben to gain favor, and then absorb the soldiers." Jia Kui looked up at the stars and moon in the night sky with a calm gaze. "If the Huben lose, he defeats the Xiongnu and absorbs the survivors while 'rescuing' them; if the Huben win, he seizes them by force. Do you understand now, A-Ji?"

"I understand. If he attempts to seize the Huben by force, only by killing him can I establish authority and shock the others. And if I do not die tonight, I am the most suitable person to do it." Zhao Ji took a deep breath and bowed low to Jia Kui. "I will never forget this life-saving warning."

Whether it was Han Xian, Li Le, or Hu Cai, these men certainly wouldn't be eager to kill Wang Zhi, Wei Gu, or Pei Xiu, but his own head was a perfect target. He could not rely on the enemy's goodwill or restraint. He had to kill the moment they met, leaving no room for neutrality, and create a fait accompli.

Jia Kui lifted Zhao Ji up with both hands. "A-Ji, you need not do this. I know your ambitions, and since this aligns with my family’s interests, I spoke to warn you."

"Brother, this is a debt of life." Zhao Ji felt a lingering fear. If a White Wave general bearing a high-ranking seal were to march into the camp tomorrow to take command, a moment of hesitation would turn him into fish on a chopping block. At that point, if he spoke too loudly or if they simply didn't like the way he knelt, they could kill him on the spot.

The two parted, and Zhao Ji met with Wei Xing, who also carried a red flag on his back. A battalion commander carried two flags, while a squad leader carried one—such practices were not foreign to the Han army. However, in close-quarters combat, many would discard their banners to avoid becoming targets for enemy archers. To identify rank, they relied on insignias worn on their backs. Tonight was the first battle, and a night battle at that; they had to carry the banners to keep the soldiers gathered and prevent them from scattering. As officers, they had to be prepared for higher casualties.

After meeting with Wei Xing, Zhao Ji went to see Pei Xiu. The topic was sensitive, so Zhao Ji glanced around, and Guan Shang and Shentu Lan, who were with Pei Xiu, moved away. Pei Xiu followed Zhao Ji to the edge of the camp. "What is it, A-Ji?"

"I am worried that the old White Wave generals will come tomorrow to seize power." Zhao Ji spoke plainly, then lowered his voice: "Seventh Brother, do you have the Imperial decree to suppress the rebels?"

Pei Xiu was silent for a moment, then took a folded piece of silk from his sleeve and handed it over. "See for yourself, A-Ji."

Zhao Ji took it with both hands and shook it open, but there was nothing—it was just an ordinary handkerchief. He looked at Pei Xiu with confusion. Pei Xiu took the silk back, folded it, and tucked it into his sleeve. "This was given to me by my uncle, and bestowed by the Emperor. If we win, it is naturally the Emperor’s secret decree. If we lose, even if it were signed by the Secretariat, it would be a forged, treasonous document."

"Having it is enough." Zhao Ji sighed. He could already foresee the scene: they would hold the secret decree to suppress the rebels, while Yang Feng and the others would claim to be acting on an imperial order to quell the rebellion. They had no chance to set a trap to assassinate or capture Yang Feng, because from the very beginning, the others had prepared to seize the Huben by force.

Pei Xiu watched the change in Zhao Ji’s expression and couldn't help but ask, "A-Ji, are you not afraid?"

"Seventh Brother, if I am afraid of them, will they spare us?" Zhao Ji asked in return, perplexed. The world was already rotten. A massive pile of "experience packs" was about to be delivered to his doorstep—what was there to be afraid of? If he were killed, what would there be to fear then?

As for the recruited Huben in the camp—were they afraid? Most were not. As long as the officers leading them didn't run, the majority were willing to fight. The youth of a civilized society would dare to hack at people with kitchen knives; there was no need to mention the men here. The Huben recruits had three main characteristics: they came from powerful local clans or minor gentry and were generally from respectable families; they were young and full of reckless, fiery energy; and they were well-fed, possessing physiques far superior to ordinary civilians of their age. In the language of war, these were aristocratic troops.

As for the invading Xiongnu, how many true warriors and nobles could they possibly have? The majority were herdsmen and slaves; in terms of height, physique, and equipment, they were inferior to the commandery and county troops. How could they fight the Huben?

Zhao Ji’s confidence radiated from within. It reached the point where Pei Xiu had the illusion that even if Zhao Ji were shot through with an arrow tonight, he would remain standing, propped up by his spear and halberd.