Chapter 47 The Envoy Heading to Guanzhong

Chapter 47: The Envoy Marching Toward Guanzhong

The distant ships had halted on the far side, resembling a tide poised to surge.

And before all these vessels stood a single, suddenly unsheathed blade.

From the bow of her ship, Wang Shenai looked down and suddenly understood why the celestial screen had described Fu Yan as a general who was obsessed with the hammer-and-anvil tactic.

In this era, there was no precise definition of what constituted a "hammer-and-anvil" strategy, but as the name suggested, it involved using a weaker force as the anvil to lure and pin down the enemy while deploying a more elite contingent—often highly mobile cavalry—as the hammer to strike at the enemy's vital points.

If the celestial screen was to be believed, by the time Fu Yan truly took to the battlefield, her stamina could no longer sustain frontline combat. Thus, the "anvil"—the weaker force serving as bait—was precisely the one she herself commanded.

A visionary brave general...

"Aren't you afraid I might discipline you for mobilizing troops without authorization?"

No sooner had Fu Yan boarded the ship than she was met with these words.

Her gaze turned sharp, but seeing the faint admiration in Wang Shenai's expression and the lack of severity in her eyes, she understood this was not a rebuke but a test question.

Her answer would likely determine the assignment she would receive thereafter.

She replied calmly, "Your Majesty ordered Huan Xuan to lead the way precisely to show the southern factions that your departure from Jiankang and personal expedition were not reckless gambles but the rightful passage of a wise ruler, with all making way. I merely answered the summons—how could it be called unauthorized mobilization?"

"Moreover—" She straightened in her armor, her northern ancestry lending her a tall and imposing stature. "Now that we must contend with the north, what we vie for is timing. Compared to inexperienced commanders, I believe Your Majesty would favor me more."

Faint murmurs rose from behind them.

Yet in this moment, only the voices of these two women rang clear on the deck.

Wang Shenai asked, "What can you do?"

Fu Yan answered, "At the very least, I can reaffirm the sovereign-subject bond foretold by the celestial screen—and carve open a path to Guanzhong for Your Majesty!"

As their eyes met, though their bodies remained aboard ships in the southern rivers of Jiangzhou, their hearts seemed to soar to distant horizons, carried aloft by these words.

Alas, the fleet and the land forces still required time to march, unable to leap a thousand miles to Guanzhong in fulfillment of this grand aspiration.

Yet one man had already set out from Ye City, boarding a boat and sailing upstream like a merchant daring to sail through war-torn waters, heading toward the region of Sili.

Along the way, the fires of war had been lit.

Yao Xing had raised his forces from Guanzhong, swiftly breaching Mount Hua and seizing the Huayin entrance to the Xiaohan Pass.

Though the former Eastern Jin court had neglected governance in Sili, it had still appointed prefects and stationed small garrisons at these strategic passes and counties.

But Yao Xing moved too quickly, leaving them no chance to retaliate.

The head of Dong Mai, Prefect of Huayin, was displayed like a trophy before their banners as a warning.

Thus, the Guanzhong army surged past Mount Hua, advancing toward Hongnong.

The fate of the Prefect of Huayin served as a grim lesson for the Governor of Hongnong: even with the celestial screen's proclamations, to these Qiang people, Yong'an remained their enemy, a foe they were determined to crush.

Hoping for them to recognize some so-called "mandate of heaven" was futile—he might as well pray his city walls held firm.

Fortunately, Hongnong Commandery guarded the critical Sanmenxia passage. Governor Tao Cu had retreated to Jiao City and, in the face of Yao Xing's relentless assault, managed to hold on.

Yet as he gazed down at the sea of dark-clad soldiers below, his heart was filled with nothing but desolation and terror.

"Governor... can we hold this city?" asked a soldier in full armor.

Tao Cu answered dazedly, "...Even if we can't, we must."

The battle reports from Huayin and the roars of the Qiang troops below made it clear even to the least militarily inclined how fiercely Yao Xing sought to take Luoyang. To intimidate the city, he was all the more determined to storm Jiao City with overwhelming force.

This was nothing like the events foretold by the celestial screen!

In that other tale, Yao Xing had not initially prioritized Luoyang as his primary target, allowing Tao Cu enough leeway to send word to the city and eventually seek aid from Jiankang, securing Yong'an's reinforcements.

But today was different!

Dark clouds loom over the city, threatening to crush it. In the face of this terrifying onslaught, the slightest lapse in resolve would see them swallowed without a trace remaining.

"Any word... from Luoyang?" Tao Cu asked his subordinates bitterly.

But he already knew the answer.

The Qiang elite had encircled Jiao City. Were it not for the treacherous waters of Sanmenxia—where leaving any stronghold in enemy hands was unthinkable—their numbers would have allowed them to press eastward long ago, rather than stubbornly besieging this one city.

This encirclement forced Tao Cu to maintain constant vigil atop the walls, guarding against breaches while remaining cut off from outside news.

If reinforcements were indeed coming from Luoyang, he would only know when he saw them with his own eyes—not from the lips of his subordinates!

With great effort, he tore his gaze from the enemy below and looked back at the city's defenders, their faces drained of color from cold or fear. He could only offer feeble comfort: "Today's situation... surely can't be worse than what the celestial screen showed."

Yet how frail and ineffective those words sounded against the rising chants of the enemy below.

What he couldn't see from the walls was that even for the Guanzhong soldiers, this campaign was far from easy.

Winter was never the season for war.

By the customs of nomadic peoples, this was the time when raids had long concluded, and they would have retreated to sheltered valleys like Hehuang or the northern deserts, waiting out the cold before making further moves.

Since the Qiang had seized Guanzhong, this relatively temperate land had become their haven.

This sudden march was meant to defy fate—but it also upended their traditional ways of war.

To the north lay the Zhongtiao Mountains, to the south the Qinling Range. In theory, the northern winds should have been blocked outside the Xiaohan Pass. Yet standing within it, one felt only the piercing gales, heavy with the river's damp chill.

Cui Hao tightened his fur-lined cloak before bowing and stepping through the tent flap, entering Yao Xing's presence.

Inside, the brazier blazed, a stark contrast to the suffering soldiers outside. Cui Hao exhaled a warm breath, his throat, parched from the cold, finally easing.

He saluted respectfully, addressing Yao Xing as "King of Qin."

Even as he paid his respects, he discreetly studied the man.

Tuo Bagui distrusted fate and, wary of Yong'an's influence, had sent him to assess Yao Xing's character. This, Cui Hao remembered well.

In the blazing firelight, Yao Xing's sharp features seemed softened, lending him an air of calm dignity. No wonder some compared him to the Qin Emperor Fu Jian. Yet his decisiveness in attacking Luoyang and the unyielding ferocity of his camp left no room for underestimation.

"You say you are—"

"Cui Hao, of the Qinghe Cui clan."

"Qinghe Cui..." Yao Xing considered thoughtfully, eyeing the young man. "The King of Wei has sent an interesting envoy."

Cui Hao met his gaze unflinchingly. "Not the King of Wei—the Emperor of Wei."

Yao Xing's face darkened abruptly, realizing that although Cui Hao before him was young, the fact that his lord—not yet thirty—had sent him here was certainly not a sign of weakness!

Without hesitation, he dropped a bombshell on Yao Xing—

Tuo Bagui, the King of Wei, was preparing to declare himself emperor!

Yao Xing growled, "Did he send you to tell me that he has resolved never to yield to Yong'an and will continue opposing her? Or is he using you to provoke me into bowing to him as a subject?"

"Not at all," Cui Hao replied. "His Majesty wishes me to convey three signals to the King of Qin."

Three signals?

Yao Xing squinted. "Let me guess the first—that northern aristocratic clans like yours, though Han Chinese, are still willing to follow Tuo Bagui's command."

Cui Hao: "Exactly. But this is not because Yong'an has no love for the aristocratic families, driving us to defect. Rather, it is because we can see that Emperor Wei possesses the potential to unify the north and the ability to govern the world."

Yao Xing snorted. Did Cui Hao think he couldn’t hear the veiled meaning? Though phrased politely, the underlying message was clear: Yao Xing was no match for Tuo Bagui, who alone could unify the north. While claiming not to demand submission, the implication remained.

Still, the fact that Tuo Bagui could send a member of the prestigious Qinghe Cui clan as an envoy, while Yao Xing could only summon scholars from Western Liang, said a lot about who was winning!

"Secondly..." Yao Xing paused before continuing, "He has already triumphed in the northern campaigns and now has the capacity to propose an alliance with me."

Cui Hao confirmed. "Indeed. Emperor Wei has conquered Ye City, killing Mu Rongbao and several of his brothers. The remaining Mu Rongde, Mu Rongxi, and others are not worth worrying about. Though His Majesty intends to return to Pingcheng first for his coronation, Yong'an remains a real threat. Thus, it is prudent to discuss a joint resistance with the King of Qin."

First, defeat Yong'an—then duke it out between themselves.

This was the message Tuo Bagui had entrusted Cui Hao to deliver.

To Yao Xing, Cui Hao was sharp as a tack—not once mentioning the heavenly display to avoid rubbing salt in wounds. Unlike the two envoys from Shu, who had bluntly asked, "Would the King of Qin be willing to ally with Shu as the heavenly display suggested?"—just what you'd expect from his impression of the Di people from Shu.

Wait, speaking of the Di people from Shu...

Yao Xing raised an eyebrow. "You said Tuo Bagui conquered Ye City. You came from Ye City?"

"Correct."

Yao Xing: "Then you seem to have taken your sweet time."

The road from Shu to Guanzhong, though widened during the Shu-Wei wars, was still rough going. Even riding nonstop at full speed would take at least ten days.

But the journey from Ye City here was almost entirely by water. Even accounting for caution when crossing contested zones, Cui Hao should have arrived in no more than five days—if not sooner.

So why had Cui Hao arrived later than the envoys from Shu?

Cui Hao replied, "This is the third matter Emperor Wei wished me to convey. Your swift mobilization demonstrates decisiveness, but beware of walking into a known trap."

"Before arriving here, I scouted around Luoyang for several days. Though unable to enter the city, I observed its northern defenses. Luoyang has shrewd commanders—from Mangshan to Mengjin and Xiaopingjin, they're making every soldier count for maximum defensive effect. What, then, do you suppose awaits at Hangu Pass west of Luoyang?"

"If Emperor Wei could dispatch me as an envoy to propose an alliance, what might Emperor Yong'an of Great Ying be planning? Surely she won’t remain in Jiankang, waiting for us to pay homage."

Yao Xing’s face went stony, though the condescension in his gaze toward Cui Hao faded a bit. "You’re saying that even if I swiftly defeat Hongnong, I’ll be halted before Luoyang and repeat past failures."

Cui Hao: "Those are your words, not mine."

Yao Xing nearly choked on his own anger.

But Cui Hao’s next words cut his anger short. "I merely mean that if everyone is this vigilant—raising armies, dispatching envoys—it shows just how strong the opponent is."

"Who initiates or leads this alliance is not the key. What matters is seizing the opportunity to win over the people and morale!"

Cui Hao bowed again. "I urge the King of Qin to reconsider carefully."

Yao Xing’s fingers drummed on the fur armrest beside him. The tent fell silent save for the crackling of the brazier, until his voice broke the stillness: "Tell me about Luoyang."

Cui Hao’s face showed no sign of victory, only calm. "Luoyang’s garrison is undoubtedly thin on the ground, but with public support favoring Yong'an and strategic planning in place, its defenses far surpass Hongnong’s. The Eight Passes of Luoyang were renowned as Han Dynasty bulwarks not just for their terrain. To take Luoyang swiftly, sheer force alone won’t suffice."

"Then what does Mr. Cui suggest?" Yao Xing asked slowly.

Those present noted the shift in how Yao Xing addressed Cui Hao.

Cui Hao, likely barely twenty, didn't really deserve the title "Mr." Yet his performance today justified it. After only a brief flicker of surprise, Cui Hao accepted the honorific without comment.

"Before that, may I ask—what is the situation in Shu?"

Yao Xing replied, "Qiao Zong has rebelled, crowning himself Prince of Chengdu. He sent troops north to Hanzhong as a diversion while dispatching two envoys to Guanzhong to declare his stance."

"But I suspect the King of Qin does not trust them," Cui Hao interjected.

Yao Xing just smirked.

Some things go without saying.

The Di people of Shu, unwilling to fight outside their own backyard or face the Jingzhou troops, had once even killed their own governor. Did anyone truly believe they’d now march all the way to Luoyang?

Yeah right!

"Then borrow only their roads, ships, and horses—not their men," Cui Hao concluded. "As for Luoyang, I propose an unconventional strategy. For instance—"

His gaze seemed to pierce the tent, envisioning the battlefield beyond. "Besiege Hongnong’s counties without attacking. Dispatch an additional force under my command."

...

"General Huan!"

"General Huan..."

Huan Qian nodded at each caller, deftly sidestepping questions like "When will Her Majesty arrive in Luoyang?" or "Where will Luoyang’s people belong?" before finally excusing himself to meet up with his subordinate outside.

The subordinate noticed the normally easygoing Huan clan general let out the faintest sigh of relief.

"You could have just told them the truth," the subordinate ventured.

Huan Qian shook his head. "Look around. Could you?"

The subordinate mirrored the gesture.

Huan Qian thought with a sigh. His cousin Huan Xuan had assigned him a messy assignment.

When he arrived in Luoyang through Yique Pass, the heavenly display had just ended.

To Luoyang’s people, his arrival seemed like something out of legend.

One moment, the screen praised Yong'an's stunning win in Luoyang. The next, an army from the south appeared.

Every desperate face pressing close asked if Emperor Yong'an had foreseen this and sent Huan Qian ahead.

How could Huan Qian admit he served not Yong'an but Huan Xuan, sent merely to scout? Those eyes full of hollow hope—he couldn’t do it.

Only upon arrival did he learn Luoyang’s officials, citing poor harvests from spring droughts, had abandoned the starving populace. To the chaotic Eastern Jin aristocracy, a missing Prefect from some backwater wasn't even a blip.

For the people of Luoyang, it meant that the officials of the former dynasty had fled half a year ago, the heavenly proclamation had declared where the Mandate of Heaven lay, and Emperor Ying of Great Ying had also dispatched legitimate officials.

Huan Qian ultimately lacked the shamelessness. Gritting his teeth, he reluctantly accepted the identity of Emperor Ying’s envoy, only to watch with trepidation as the people of Luoyang brought out their pitifully small food stores to show goodwill toward him and his men.

The burden on his conscience grew heavier. To prevent Luoyang from being attacked as foretold by the celestial screen, he organized his troops into detachments and, with the help of Luoyang’s citizens who responded to recruitment, stationed them around the city’s perimeter. Over the next few days, he sorted through the administrative records left behind in Luoyang, located an abandoned granary, and salvaged some still-edible stored grain to temporarily serve as rations.

Before this, he had already written a report detailing Luoyang’s situation and sent it south.

But such deception by this impersonation could only last for a short while—how could it be sustained long?

Huan Qian truly was sweating bullets for Huan Xuan, unsure whether his current actions would cause Huan Xuan, who intended to seize Luoyang, to face immediate rejection upon arrival.

Originally, the people of Luoyang did not know Huan Xuan, but they could not escape the celestial screen’s incessant propaganda, which had convinced everyone that Huan Xuan was a “fool” who had been deceived into loyalty yet lacked long-term strategy…

Troubled, he pivoted the conversation: “What is the situation west of Hangu Pass?”

His subordinate quickly replied, “No additional news has arrived yet.”

About ten days prior, urgent dispatches had reached Luoyang and landed in Huan Qian’s hands—news of the fall of Huashan’s counties, the death of the Prefect, and the Qin Army’s attack on Hongnong. Along with it came a desperate plea for reinforcements from the Governor of Hongnong.

Huan Qian very much wanted to send reinforcements, for if Hongnong fell, Luoyang would be the next target of the Qin Army’s fierce assault.

But the elite troops under his command numbered only six or seven hundred, and rations were severely lacking. Merely organizing Luoyang’s defenses was already straining his limited resources—how could he spare any strength to aid others?

Unless…

Huan Qian slowed his steps, weighing his options, then spoke: “The fact that Hongnong has not been swiftly taken by the Qin Army is good news. It means their morale, affected by the celestial screen, is far lower than we imagined. Luoyang’s situation is also safer than before.”

“You wish to send troops—”

“No, no troops! No matter what, sending forces to Hongnong to fight on unfamiliar terrain is hardly a wise move,” Huan Qian denied.

After a brief silence, he added, “I must return to Jingzhou immediately. If the Qin Army attacks westward and takes Luoyang, the danger will not be limited to Luoyang alone! I must press the General to make a swift decision!”

Whether Huan Xuan intended to go independent or swear fealty to Yong’an, he had to provide immediate aid to Luoyang in this critical moment to secure this strategic linchpin.

“Luoyang’s situation is temporarily stable—there’s time for this journey!”

As Huan Qian passed through the city gates under the hopeful gazes of Luoyang’s people, he suddenly understood his father’s decision all those years ago with crystal clarity.

Why, when Fu Jian led his forces south, his father Huan Chong had willingly abandoned the hard-won standing of the Huan family and the chance for further advancement, choosing instead to ally with Xie An and form the South’s most impregnable defense.

Because there would always be those who wished to protect not just their family or glorious status, but also the people caught in the flames of war.

The speed of his starved steed was not as fast as when he had arrived.

But for Huan Qian, the howling winter winds that lashed his face only made him spur his horse faster.

Yet just as he was about to cross a stretch of hills ahead, a company of elite warriors suddenly emerged from the west, loosing a deadly hail of arrows at his party of a hundred men.

This was the gateway from the imperial district toward Jingzhou. After exiting Yique Pass, passing the settlement of Yangren and crossing the Ru River, Jingzhou would not be far. There, he could rally reinforcements, change horses, and race to Huan Xuan at greater speed.

But in that fleeting moment, Huan Qian was stunned to see that the attackers charging toward him wore barbarian garb and the features of the Qiang!

They should have been on the front lines at Hongnong, yet here they were, having bypassed Mount Xiong’er, forded the Yi River, and circled around to Luoyang’s southern gateway.

Huan Qian yanked the reins, intending to break through the hail of arrows, but it was already too late.

A sharp arrow whistled through the air and pierced his neck from the side.

Huan Qian stiffened abruptly. The searing pain robbed him of any ability to issue commands.

Or perhaps, even if he could, it would have been futile.

Against the swift cavalry charge of the Qiang, their pitiful defense was brutally crushed.

Before the eyes in that severed head could close, a curved blade had already sent it tumbling into the dust.

...

“Mr. Cui—”

The leading Qiang warrior, clutching Huan Qian’s head, urged his horse forward, exhaustion unable to mask his bloodlust.

Cui Hao had already heard the second half of the question: “What’s our next move?”