Grand Preceptor Wu woke up in a rattling prison cart, his head throbbing from the blow he received the night before.
He had expected to wake up in hell, pierced by Iron Pagoda arrows. Instead, he was alive, heading towards Jicheng, the capital of Youzhou.
Who knocked me out? he wondered. Who would dare strike the supreme commander of the Wu Tribe in the middle of a battle?
He needed a plan. He had to turn this dead game around before they reached the city.
Up ahead, Xiao Shaojin was praising Han Zhong. "Beautiful work last night. I will tell my father that you and the Drill Battalion take first credit!"
He then turned to Lin Huaijue. "Master Lin, you suffered quite a shock. Your contribution was significant, too. I'll have a scribe write it up to polish your reputation. Should I hire some storytellers to spread tales of your bravery in the teahouses?"
Lin Huaijue couldn't tell if the Heir was praising him or mocking him. He bowed stiffly. "No need for stories. The victory was entirely due to Your Highness's brilliant planning. The first credit belongs to you."
Xiao Shaojin's face darkened instantly.
"Master Lin! Let me teach you a rule of Youzhou: What I say, goes. I had nothing to do with last night's victory. I was sleeping and watching the moon at the beacon tower. The entire army can testify to that. If you slip up and say otherwise... the destruction of the Lin family is but a thought away."
Lin Huaijue froze, terrified into silence.
Han Zhong quickly stepped in. "Your Highness, don't be angry. He's new here. He probably hasn't heard the story of 'Calling a Rabbit a Crow'."
Xiao Shaojin's expression softened. "Master Lin, the border is complicated. A scholar like you won't understand. I'll give you a piece of advice: Silence is golden. Anything related to the Prince's Mansion... let it rot in your belly. Understood?"
"Answer him!" Han Zhong barked.
"I understand," Lin stammered. "I know nothing of Your Highness except what I hear in rumors."
Xiao nodded satisfied and rode off with Han Zhong toward the prisoner convoy.
Lin Huaijue was left pondering the interaction. Han Zhong had saved him twice. It was clear now: Xiao Shaojin wanted to maintain his reputation as a useless hedonist.
He remembered the story of "Calling a Rabbit a Crow" from the Capital. One day, the Heir went hunting but couldn't hit a single crow. Frustrated, he shot a rabbit instead and insisted it was a crow. Anyone who agreed with him was rewarded; anyone who corrected him was beaten. It was a test of loyalty and fear, a display of absolute dominance.
Xiao Shaojin and Han Zhong arrived at the prison cart. The Grand Preceptor lay motionless.
"How hard did you hit him?" Xiao asked.
"Your Highness, I only used thirty percent of my strength. He should be awake by now," Han Zhong replied aggrievedly.
Xiao ordered a halt in the shade of a hill. He had water splashed on the old man's face. The Grand Preceptor woke up but remained stubbornly silent, ignoring interrogations and threats against his fellow captives.
Just as Han Zhong suggested torture, Xiao stopped him.
"Wait. Give him water and food. Let him rest. There is a reason he won't speak." Xiao ordered the army to rest for an hour. "Send a messenger to the city to inform my father of the victory. I'm going to take a nap."
Xiao found a secluded spot and sat down, crossing his legs in a Daoist meditation posture.
He needed to think. Am I letting this victory cloud my judgment? This Grand Preceptor is no hollow figurehead like those officials in the Capital.
Xiao felt a flicker of panic. He forced himself to breathe deeply. I've only awakened my Literary Heart. I'm not yet sixteen, so I can't fully enter the Inner Mirror State of the Daoist Arts. My deduction speed is too slow.
He tried to clear his mind. Think.
The Grand Preceptor knew there was a spy. He knew the Drill Battalion had infiltrated his camp. He wouldn't try to leave a trail now—it would be useless.
But something didn't add up.
Why were there only 1,200 soldiers in the main camp?
Intelligence said the Wu Tribe brought over 20,000 men. Even if 5,000 were logistics and support, and another 5,000 were the elite ambush force in the valley... where were the other 9,000?
Even if the other princes and uncles each took a thousand men to guard the flanks, that still left about 6,000 unaccounted for.
What are they guarding? Who is more important than the Grand Preceptor?
A chill ran down Xiao Shaojin's spine.
Lin Huaijue tried to approach Xiao Shaojin but was blocked by General Yan Chuanzhi. After a brief argument, Xiao opened his eyes and called them over. His face was grave.
"Your Highness," Lin said urgently, ignoring formalities. "There is something wrong with that Grand Preceptor!"
Xiao grabbed Lin's hand, dropping his casual demeanor. "Speak quickly! Don't delay military intelligence!"
"Last night, when he untied me, I felt his hands. He only has calluses on his right hand, where one holds a brush!"
"The Grand Preceptor was a frontline general until he was forty-five," Xiao nodded. "He should have calluses on his left tiger's mouth and right palm from riding and archery."
"Exactly!" Lin continued. "But the real proof is his jade pendant! I just remembered a legend from the Records of the Northern Desert. It's the Twin Jade of Eagle and Serpent, one of the Seven Sacred Artifacts of the tribes."
Lin took a breath. "It requires two blood relatives to wear them. The Eagle feeds on the Serpent. The person wearing the Serpent Jade has their life force and luck slowly siphoned away by the wearer of the Eagle Jade. Over time, the Serpent Jade curls into a ring, and the Eagle Jade spreads its wings."
"The jade on that old man's waist is a Serpent," Lin concluded. "And it is already half-curled."
Xiao Shaojin stared at the map brought by his guard. His eyes darted across the terrain. Suddenly, he slammed his finger onto a spot near Wood Sheep Lake.
"Break camp immediately!" Xiao shouted.
"General Yan! Send Han Zhong's deputy with a thousand Red Rust riders to Wood Sheep Lake! Scout only—do not engage! Wear Barbarian armor and carry the captured Grand Preceptor's banner. Make the real Grand Preceptor believe we were defeated!"
Xiao's commands flew fast. "Trick him into pulling the 5,000 elites from the valley to attack Yangtai Pass. Yan, send your deputy to mobilize 15,000 troops—Winged Riders, Eagle & Leopard Corps, Divine Fire Battalion—to ambush them at Yangtai Pass! Commander Xia Bin will lead. If the bait fails, retreat to the pass. But remember: Make noise! Tell everyone we captured the Grand Preceptor!"
Yan Chuanzhi was confused but obeyed. "Your Highness... isn't the Grand Preceptor in the cart?"
Xiao stood up, a dangerous smile playing on his lips. "I played 'Civet Cat Swapped for the Crown Prince' on him. He played 'Twin Jade of Eagle and Serpent' on me. Fair play. The one in the cart is a double."
He turned to Lin. "Master Lin, keep this secret."
Xiao Shaojin walked to the prison cart, clapping his hands.
"Grand Preceptor Wu," he smiled at the prisoner. "You may not want to talk, but I have good news. We strengthened the border guards this month. Yangtai Pass now has 5,000 men and Mountain-Shaking Cannons. Your diversion strategy won't work. I've also sent 10,000 cavalry to Wood Sheep Lake. Do you think that suits the other Grand Preceptor's appetite?"
The old man in the cart finally spoke. His voice was raspy.
"I never expected the Huachao Empire to produce such a prodigy. Twelve years old, yet such strategy... You must have entered the Gate of the Ghost Valley Sage. Even though the Imperial Family forbids the study of these Arts, nothing stops the Prince of Dongqi."
"It is a misfortune for the tribes that a boy like you exists," the old man continued. "But geniuses die young. Many will want your life."
Xiao didn't answer. He signaled a guard to snatch the jade pendant from the old man's waist.
It was exactly as Lin said. The serpent was covered in ancient runes and twisted halfway into a circle. The real Grand Preceptor was dying, stealing life from this body double.
"That is a sacred artifact of the Royal Court!" the old man roared, abandoning his composure. "Give it back! Show some dignity to a defeated foe!"
Xiao laughed, tossing the jade in his hand. "You sound more like a Han scholar than I do. And I act more like a Barbarian than you."
"If your cavalry goes one step further," the old man threatened desperately, "the 7,000 elites there will slaughter them! Then we will wear your armor and take the pass!"
"Six thousand, one hundred and nine," Xiao corrected coldly. "Not seven thousand."
The old man froze. "Wait... you have spies there too?"
"Spies? No. I just did the math," Xiao leaned in close. "I see your fear. I see your greed. You and your master tried to turn a conspiracy into an open stratagem. Fine. I'll play along. Whoever is in my hands is the real Grand Preceptor. Right?"
Xiao turned and ordered the march to resume.
In the cart, the body double collapsed as if his spine had been removed. He stared blankly toward the north, mumbling a name.
Far away, dark clouds gathered over Wood Sheep Lake. The wind howled, carrying the scent of sand and impending doom.
The storm looked down at the earth, waiting, just like Xiao Shaojin, for the slaughter to begin.