Above Wood Sheep Lake, a storm was brewing.
Dark clouds coiled together like angry serpents, illuminated by weak arcs of lightning. Thunder growled low in the sky, sounding like a stalking beast.
Below, inside a special tent in the Wu Tribe's camp, two braziers burned brightly despite the summer heat.
A hunched old man coughed violently. A guard quickly wrapped another cashmere blanket around him.
"Is the weather changing?" the old man asked, staring into the crackling charcoal. "It feels cold."
"A gale is blowing, Grand Preceptor," the young guard bowed respectfully, sweating in the stifling heat. "It might rain."
"Pity," the old man sighed. "I no longer have the strength to divine the heavens, or I would have foreseen this."
"Don't sigh, Grand Preceptor," the guard comforted him. "As long as you wear the Twin Jade, your health will improve."
The old man touched the ancient eagle-shaped jade at his chest. "We traded thirty thousand horses, fifty thousand herdsmen, and ten thousand cattle for this artifact from the Xianbei Tribe. If it is useless, I am the greatest sinner of the Wu people."
"Report!" A scout shouted from outside. "The Vice Preceptor's unit has arrived in the west! Their captain says they raided successfully last night and wants to report in person."
The old man's spirits lifted.
His plan was simple: While the Border Army rotated troops, he would launch small raids to draw their attention south. Then, before winter, he would strike the weakly defended Yangtai Pass. Once inside, they would bypass Jicheng, seize the River Mouth Commandery, and take Qinghe City. With the mountains as a natural fortress, the Wu Tribe would finally have a foothold in the fertile lands of the Central Plains.
He knew he was a candle flickering in the wind, but he had to secure a future for his people.
At that very moment, in the Prince's Mansion in Jicheng, Xiao Shaojin was sprawling over a massive map.
He circled Wood Sheep Lake, Yangtai Pass, and River Mouth Commandery with a brush.
"They have three routes," Xiao Shaojin lectured the generals around him. "But the most likely is this: They camp at Wood Sheep Lake, gather supplies, and wait for reinforcements. By year's end, they attack Yangtai Pass with 50,000 to 60,000 men. Once through, they raid River Mouth, take Qinghe City, and fortify the mountains. It's a perfect plan—attack or retreat at will."
Xiao Shaojin crawled across the map like a little spider. Xiao Hong found it adorable and picked him up, kissing his cheeks loudly. "My son analyzes well!"
The generals laughed.
"Stop laughing!" Xiao Shaojin struggled free, glaring at them.
He threw his brush down. "Uncle Yun Luo, you laughed the loudest. How should we fight this?"
A giant man in black armor—General Yun Luo of the Iron Pagoda—grinned. "Your Highness, the Iron Pagoda only fights hard battles. Let them come with 50,000. I'll lead 5,000 riders and crush them!"
"The Grand Preceptor will have reinforcements," Xiao sneered. "Probably 80,000 or 90,000 total. Even 10,000 Iron Pagodas might not hold."
Yun Luo scratched his head. "Asking me for strategy is like asking a bull to embroidery. Ask Zhu Yu. His Eagle & Leopard Corps deals with them more."
Xiao turned to a general with sharp, hawk-like eyes. "Uncle Zhu Yu, I've sent 15,000 men to trap the 6,000 at the lake. But it feels wrong. Why only 6,000 guards for the Grand Preceptor? He is one of the Three Great Ministers of the Seven Nations of the North. He should have at least 20,000."
Zhu Yu leaned over the map. "I agree. It's a trap. If he's trying to hide his numbers, it won't work. Patrols will spot the camp traces eventually."
"Exactly," Xiao nodded. "Uncle Xia Bin will handle the tactical situation. But I don't just want to drive them away. I want them to kick an iron plate!"
"If the Wu Tribe leaves safely today, tomorrow the Di, the Xianbei, and the Xiongnu will all come to raid us. The Border may be a 'troublesome land' to the Capital, but the people here are citizens of Huachao. As long as the Youzhou Army stands, no Barbarian steps one foot inside!"
The generals knelt in unison. "Your Highness is wise!"
"Xiao Jin," Yun Luo asked. "If you have a plan, give the order. We will charge into hell for you without hesitation!"
Xiao Shaojin closed his eyes. He recited a line from the ancient texts: "Divide prestige to subdue the bear; divine prestige covers all."
Xiao Hong realized what was happening. He raised a hand, silencing the room. His son was entering the Path of Strategy.
After a long moment, Xiao Shaojin opened his eyes and exhaled a breath of turbid air.
"Father," he said calmly. "I have a plan to settle the heavens and earth. Please call Master Sun."
Back at Wood Sheep Lake.
"The Vice Preceptor's captain reports they raided several beacon towers and killed a thousand border guards," the guard told the real Grand Preceptor. "They brought tea, salt, and grain. They are camping fifty miles away to form a defensive horn formation, as per your standing orders to avoid camp merging."
The old man smiled. "My brother is so careful. Even 'no camp merging' he follows strictly. It was cruel of me to drag him into this. He should have remained a teacher, not a body double whose life force I drain."
The guard lowered his head, knowing the dark history of the clan. The Grand Preceptor had saved the Wu Tribe from extinction and brought them back to glory. He was their savior and their curse.
"I am running out of time," the old man said, touching the jade. "Since the Border Army has moved their defenses south, perhaps we can advance the plan."
He walked to the sand table, his eyes scanning the terrain, his brow furrowing.
In the Prince's Mansion, a middle-aged man in dark green scholar robes entered the hall.
Everyone, including Prince Xiao Hong, bowed respectfully.
Xiao Shaojin rushed forward and prostrated himself. "Student Shaojin greets Master Sun."
Master Sun smiled and helped him up. "Why the formality? When did we become strangers?"
"Master," Xiao Shaojin stammered. "I... I..."
For the first time in his life, the sharp-tongued Heir was stuttering.
Master Sun patted his head. "The superior man is slow in speech but quick in action."
Xiao Shaojin took a deep breath. "Master. I have comprehended the Ghost Valley Path of Strategy!"
The hall went silent with shock. To comprehend the Path in the face of imminent war required the Heir to take full command—and succeed.
"It has been three years," Master Sun said with delight. "The Ghost Valley School has passed to the 37th generation. Our Ancestor decreed only one disciple per generation to prevent fratricide. I took five years to comprehend the Path. You are even more talented. Today, I will be your Guardian. Whether you succeed depends on tonight."
"Let me set up the altar. Go with a peaceful heart!"
Xiao Shaojin held back tears. He knew the risk. If he failed, Master Sun would suffer a backlash from the Dao, losing lifespan and luck.
He hardened his resolve.
"Generals, hear my order! Tonight, we break the Wu main force and eliminate the Grand Preceptor! Han Zhong!"
"Here!"
Xiao tossed a command token. "Take 1,000 Red Rust riders. Disguise as Barbarians. Camp 50 miles south of their main tent at Wood Sheep Lake. You are the 'Vice Preceptor's unit'."
"Yun Luo!"
"Here!"
"Take 5,000 Iron Pagoda heavy cavalry. Ride full speed. Flank to 100 miles north of Wood Sheep Lake and wait."
"Zhu Yu!"
"Here!"
"Take 5,000 Eagle & Leopard riders. Take the Prince's Seal to Yangtai Pass. Order the garrison: When the Wu attack, resist for one hour only, then abandon the pass. Retreat 30 miles to the narrow mountain choke point and set an ambush on the high ground."
Xiao tossed the final tokens.
"Yan Chuanzhi! Bring the prisoner—the body double. You and I will lead the remaining 2,000 troops to the southwest of Wood Sheep Lake to hold the line! Move out!"
"YES, YOUR HIGHNESS!" The roar of the generals shook the hall.
The black clouds over Wood Sheep Lake were now heavy enough to crush the earth.
Inside his tent, the old Grand Preceptor was taking items out of a wooden chest: beast bones, ancient coins, and yarrow sticks.
"Grand Preceptor," the young guard tried to stop him. "Divination consumes too much of your spirit. Your body cannot take it."
"It doesn't matter," the old man continued arranging the items. "I know my body. Taking Yangtai Pass decides our fate. If we enter the pass, we leave the bitter cold of the North behind."
He stopped and handed a black iron token to the guard.
"Go to the deep mountains in the north. Summon the hidden army. If my deduction is correct, we can take Yangtai Pass tonight."
"How many, sir?"
"All fifty thousand."
The old man closed his eyes and leaned back. The guard covered him with a blanket, then rushed out into the storm, riding north to unleash the horde.