The Third Party's Shadow
Ji Xin spoke quietly. “…Why do you think that? Even according to the art of war, a fivefold difference in numbers should have guaranteed victory.”
“Haha, the art of war? I may have studied under the military school, but I never placed blind faith in it. I learned that from Lord Yue Yi himself.”
Yue Yi had truly been a god of war. While the coalition army pressed Qi from three directions, he led a detached force deep into Qi’s heartland. Ji Xin had opposed that maneuver; it defied every principle of strategy. Yet Yue Yi overruled him, insisting it was correct. Once they appeared, the King of Qi would flee in terror, and Qi would collapse without mounting any real resistance. And so it happened.
On that day, the hot-blooded young Ji Xin first tasted the wall of talent.
“Lian Po was Zhao’s commander, wasn’t he?”
“He was.”
“Lian Po once said that Lord Yue Yi was the only man whose mind aligned perfectly with his own.”
Lian Po had joined the anti-Qi coalition as Zhao’s general. Though they met only once, that single encounter had been enough for two peerless commanders to read each other’s caliber.
“Think about it. Lord Yue Yi leading a thousand men against Lü Bu commanding ten thousand. Who wins?”
“…Lord Yue Yi would win.”
Even a tenfold disadvantage could not make Ji Xin imagine Yue Yi losing to Lü Bu.
“Yet the previous war had only a fivefold gap. It made no sense. Lü Bu should have been a dead man walking.”
But Lü Bu survived. Why? Ji Xin replayed the battle again and again until only one answer remained: a third party absent from the battlefield had intervened. Who? Why? How?
Ji Xin kept thinking. The first twist in the flow had not been the Xiongnu border raid, but Lian Po’s defensive posture. Lian Po excelled at both attack and defense and enjoyed bold advances. Had he known the enemy commander was Lü Bu, he would have launched a devastating assault to kill him and shatter Yan’s army. Instead, he avoided battle, buying time as though waiting for something. Then the Xiongnu moved, tacitly supported by Zhao’s inaction.
“Before the war even began, its ending had already been planned. We know the full story now. So who orchestrated it?”
Chu Yan listened intently to Ji Xin’s murmured reasoning. Though he had been the one who persuaded Lian Po and stood at the center of events, seeing the current from outside felt different from living it inside.
“It wasn’t someone from Zhao. No one would want to spare Yan after they started the trouble in a war they were already winning. And Lian Po isn’t the sort to accept such a suggestion gracefully. So the person must possess enough reputation to move Lian Po, while aiming to preserve Yan’s national strength. From there, the rest is simple.”
“……Who is it?”
Ji Xin met Chu Yan’s eyes and spoke plainly.
“Who else? It’s you.”
Ting—
Though no sound had truly rung out, Chu Yan felt as if a taut string had snapped. He caught himself wondering whether Ji Xin would next speak the name “Ji Dan,” then chuckled softly.
“You’re right. I went to Lord Xinping and asked for his help.”
“As expected. Your rhetoric has improved. Even I wasn’t certain you could persuade Lian Po.”
Chu Yan and Lian Po were of the same generation and had built some rapport while Chu Yan stayed in Zhao, yet persuading Lian Po to reverse a decision was another matter entirely. If Chu Yan had managed it, he must have achieved far more than Ji Xin realized during his absence. Since Chu Yan admitted the deed, Ji Xin naturally assumed his friend’s abilities had grown considerably—perhaps even approaching the level of Su Qin in his prime.
Just as Ji Xin was cautiously forming that estimate, Chu Yan added, “But I was only a messenger.”
“Hm?”
Ji Xin’s eyebrows twitched. Chu Yan had enjoyed great scholarly fame even before arriving in Yan; the King of Yan had taken the younger man as his teacher. Later, while in Zhao, Chu Yan received an invitation from Lord Pingyuan and became one of his retainers. For such a man to be used merely as a messenger? Ji Xin frowned.
“Then you’re saying someone else persuaded Lian Po and shaped the outcome of this war?”
“That is correct.”
Chu Yan nodded, then abruptly changed the subject.
“Ji Xin, you once spoke of the cycle. You said the vacant seats of the Golden Age are being filled once more. If so, shouldn’t the empty highest seat also find its rightful occupant?”
The words carried dangerous implications of rebellion. The current King of Yan was the great-grandson of King Shaoxiang; to claim King Shaoxiang’s seat remained empty was tantamount to saying another must be placed upon the throne. Ji Xin pressed his lips together, yet Chu Yan’s eyes shone with fervor.
“I have seen him.”
A young boy capable of upholding Yan in King Shaoxiang’s stead. A pillar to be raised upon the beams King Shaoxiang had laid, someone who could support the trembling heavens. Until now Chu Yan had held back, watching, but he had made his decision.
Ji Xin’s voice trembled. “What did you see?”
The answer came at once, filled with absolute conviction.
“King Shaoxiang’s successor.”
A man who kept his word, understood duty, and carried benevolence. A true sovereign.
§
Only three days after returning to Ji, I set out on the road again. Yesterday I had gathered with Han Jing, Jing Ke, and the others to discuss the future; in practical terms, I had spent barely two days in the palace before leaving once more. Ah, and just as we were about to depart today, a letter arrived from Chu Yan—as if summoned by mention of the tiger. It carried excellent news.
‘Ji Xin’s recruitment is half complete. All that remains are Jin Kai and Yue Han…’
Thanks to Chu Yan’s brilliant performance, the first button had not only been fastened but nearly half the garment had been buttoned for me. Still, I could not afford to be optimistic until I met Ji Xin face-to-face and finished the matter properly. Meeting him directly right now risked giving others leverage, so for the moment we would maintain the status quo. Yue Han would be handled by Guomu and Han Jing, who had remained in Ji. That left Jin Kai as the one I needed to win over personally.
The crouching tiger of Liaodong. The living legend of Yan’s military, the only man said to rival Yue Yi. My feelings toward him were somewhat complicated. In this life he was a hero who had greatly expanded Yan’s territory and swept away the northern barbarians, yet from my previous life’s perspective he was the general who had crushed Gojoseon.
‘I should sort out my stance before we meet.’
Given my current position, I would probably adopt the former view, yet a faint sense of guilt lingered.
‘If it truly bothers me, I can always send some support to Gojoseon later. Was it still called Joseon at this time? I seem to recall they were still in the Bronze Age.’
Not only Joseon; the Central Plains were also dominated by bronze. More precisely, bronze was mainly used for military weapons, while iron tools had become fairly common for farming implements. That was merely the mainstream; both bronze and iron were used for weapons and tools alike. Among the states, Yan and Chu were the most active in employing iron for weapons as well. These two nations possessed the most advanced ironworking technology among the Seven Warring States. Conversely, Qin—the current strongest state—stubbornly clung to bronze weapons alone. It sounded strange, but it was a deliberate choice to maintain hegemony as a military power.
‘Even now, bronze is still stronger than iron.’
No matter how advanced the ironworking of the Central Plains might be, it was still third-century-BC technology. Unlike bronze, iron tended to break easily and had yet to become the dominant material on the battlefield.
‘Yet.’
I knew iron was the tide of the age, destined to completely supplant bronze. One of the advantages I saw in Changseong was the ease with which I could attempt the technical improvements I already knew.
‘Iron is one thing, but the real problem is ships.’
Iron had some foundational technology already present, and my knowledge could improve it. Ships, however, left me with no idea where to begin. Just as I was feeling frustrated, as though banging my head against bare ground, an unexpected solution appeared right beside me.
“Ships? I know a bit about them. People from our Jiangdong region have always been good at building them.”
There she was. The northern horse, southern ship. The ancestors of the Jiangdong people who would one day stage the legendary fire attack on the river at Red Cliffs!
“As expected of Yeo Hong-seong! Without you I truly wouldn’t have known what to do.”
Yeo Hong-seong, who had accepted my retainer offer and accompanied me to Changseong, was the solution. The state of Yue, alongside Chu and Wu, had once competed for supremacy along the Yangtze. As a former great power that had produced hegemons during the Spring and Autumn period, Yue’s shipbuilding techniques were considerable. With this, the ship problem was solved!
At first I had thought being sent to Changseong was no different from exile, yet now it seemed I might actually profit from it. Beaming, we arrived in Changseong—only to run into an unexpected obstacle the moment we began building ships.
“Ah? Sorry, but I don’t know how to build anything that huge. You know how it is—Yue fell decades ago, and any large vessels that could serve as warships are managed directly by Chu. I thought you meant something like a fishing boat. The place I lived wasn’t even a big city; all we had were dugout canoes.”
Yeo Hong-seong did not know how to construct large ships such as the multi-decked vessels used as warships in this era. I could hardly blame only her; I had grown too excited upon hearing she could build ships and failed to discuss the matter in depth. My real mistake had been leaving the shipbuilding to her while my mind was occupied with how to handle Liaodong.
“No helping it. We’ll have to ask around for local shipwrights. Someone must know.”
Until that moment, none of us had known. How could we? No one could have predicted that our plan to build ships from the ground up would take an entirely unexpected turn because of a single visitor.
“Hey, why the sudden trip to this remote village instead of Ji? Do you know how much trouble I went through to get here?”
Reuniting with Sima Shang was the best.