Gangdong (1)

Time is equal for everyone, and it always finds a way to keep flowing. The same holds true even now. Not long ago I'd been shivering in the chill wind, wondering when spring would ever arrive—and then, before I knew it, it had. Those days of trembling in the biting cold felt like yesterday.

The duel between Yuan Shao and Gongsun Zan, who had torn at each other's throats over hegemony of Hebei, seemed at last to be reaching its conclusion. As I've mentioned before, Gongsun Zan was a thug of a soldier who understood nothing of politics, and Yuan Shao knew exactly how to squeeze a man like that. She simply kept fomenting division within his ranks, without pause.

The people's hearts, squandered on reckless grand construction projects. Soldiers worn ragged by years of endless war. Even the powerful local clans, sensing no hope, slowly turning their backs... There was good reason Gongsun Zan found himself standing alone.

The few allies he had left followed him because, violent temper aside, he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was the madman who cracked the skull of every last foreign tribesman he laid eyes on. But in his war against Yuan Shao he strangely couldn't accomplish anything, showing only a limp, indecisive face, so it was hardly surprising that they deserted him. How many people, after all, feel any human warmth toward a thug of a soldier? Even if such people existed, they'd be vanishingly few.

They had followed him only because disobeying seemed like a death sentence—and now Yuan Shao over in Jizhou was slowly grinding that same Gongsun Zan down? Worse still, Gongsun Zan looked after his own kin and left everyone else to rot, forcibly requisitioning their property and even their people. The moment anyone opened their mouth to object, their head would leave their shoulders. Naturally.

When karma piles up like that, one's allies naturally begin preparing to switch sides. Even the men who had once only watched their step, cowed by his strength, were quietly raising their hands, ready to stab him in the back. And so the landed lords who ruled each territory would raise the white flag and surrender the instant Yuan Shao's army pressed anywhere near. They were automatic doors, plain and simple. Automatic doors. When Yuan Shao arrived at a fortress, its gates would swing open with a cheerful ding.

Thanks to his own karma he had not a single trustworthy ally left, and even when he took the field himself, all he could manage was an endless back-and-forth mud wrestle with Yuan Shao's main army. Faced with this situation, Gongsun Zan's response was simple: he shut himself inside the colossal fortress he had built by grinding down the people of his own territory—Yijing Tower. In vulgar modern terms, he'd gone all-in on the turtle-defense meta.

Now then, let's examine the specs of Yijing Tower as our intelligence reported them. The fortress of Yijing was ringed by ten layers of trenches, and behind each trench rose a wall five to six zhang high—twelve to fourteen meters. In other words, before an attacker could even approach the outermost wall, he had to cross ten pits, clambering up and down each one. And even if he somehow reached the walls, what awaited the besieging army was a rampart a full fourteen meters tall.

Atop those walls stood watchtowers numbering in the thousands, and the central keep where Gongsun Zan himself resided had been specially constructed, its walls exceeding ten zhang—twenty-three meters—with an even taller multi-storied pavilion raised on top of that. He had also stockpiled three million dan of grain against a protracted war, so that farming was said to be possible within the walls themselves.

Impossibly high walls, thousands of watchtowers raised to defend them, and land fertile enough for full self-sufficiency besides. This was... ancient construction skill? My chest swelled with awe. The pyramids too—people of the past really were something else as builders.

Now I understood why Yuan Shao had spent a grueling four years groaning over this single fortress. Against this thing, what else could she do? No—perhaps four years to crack it was actually fast.

Gongsun Zan, sealed inside Yijing Tower, had shown symptoms that were, quite literally, paranoid; had his subordinates not fled or defected, he could have held out for several more years. Even Yuan Shao had never breached the walls head-on—she had dug tunnels like a mole and barely taken the fortress that way.

But could she simply ignore the Gongsun Zan crouched inside Yijing Tower? However far he had been driven back, his military strength itself remained nothing Yuan Shao could afford to dismiss.

What kind of man was Gongsun Zan? His character was a screwed-up mess on par with a street thug, and his intellect and political sense were at failing-student level—he ought to have been ashamed to claim he'd ever received instruction from Lu Zhi. But in the command and martial prowess of leading soldiers into a head-on clash with the enemy, he was genuinely a top-tier general.

Once, while patrolling the northern frontier with a small band of men, he was surrounded by nomads. Gongsun Zan declared that not fighting meant only dying, and cut his way out alone, slaying dozens of tribesmen. If that's what he managed with a small force, what would happen when a man like this led a full army and set about systematically smashing nomad skulls? The tribes—forged into weapons of war by their own ceaseless infighting—hadn't feared him as the White Horse General for nothing.

A general who stood as the hegemon of You Province on the strength of his fighting alone. That was Gongsun Zan.

Ignore Yijing Tower, and it felt like a spear would come jabbing into your back one day; try to breach the walls, and no answer was in sight. Things got so bad ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that even Yuan Shao, the one besieging the tower, sent a letter that amounted to, "Hey... let's quit fighting and make peace already..."

But Gongsun Zan told her to go eat shit, stockpiled even more grain, and prepared for battle.

With Gongsun Zan resisting so desperately, the one who ultimately profited was Cao Cao. While Yuan Shao was anchored down by Gongsun Zan, Cao Cao over in Yanzhou went about her own business and grew by leaps and bounds. She sheltered the Emperor fleeing from Li Jue and Guo Si, achieving the Controlling the Son of Heaven; she drove wedges between Lü Bu and Liu Bei, who had dug themselves in at Xuzhou, busily putting the heartland in order.

If Gongsun Zan had been dealt with quickly by Yuan Shao, the Battle of Guandu and all the rest would never have mattered—Cao Cao would simply have been crushed flat under an overwhelming disparity of power.

And now, I was the one standing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in Cao Cao's shoes. While Yuan Shao was anchored down by Gongsun Zan, I had swallowed most of the realm, and my power had swollen to a monstrous size. For any single force to claim You and Ji Provinces at this point—the difference in bulk was simply too great.

A third of the realm's population is packed into Hebei, you say? No problem. I'll just swallow the rest.

Gangdong, the one region I had yet to conquer, was in truth mostly unopened wilderness, its population tiny for so vast a land. You might as well say that crossing the Yangtze opened onto an entirely new world.

"..."

I stared at the two letters lying before me, then let out a dry chuckle. One had come from Gongsun Zan. And the other... yes. It was from Yuan Shao. The forces that had each gone about their business in Hebei had finally begun making contact with me. The letters had even arrived at nearly the same moment, as if someone had timed it.

So, whose letter should I read first? After a moment's thought, I drew out Gongsun Zan's and began to read.

Aigoo, our dear brother Zan has become quite the gentleman. Back when I had Liu Bei extract Liu Yu, hadn't he been hurling the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠unbridled abuse of a northern frontiersman at me? The prose was refined, but the content was unmistakably cursing me out—something about how sneaky and despicable it was to strike at a man's back with cowardly schemes from behind.

And when he afterward styled himself Inspector of Youzhou and brazenly squatted in the seat Liu Yu had left empty, how I had marveled...

"General-in-Chief, should you ever take Gongsun Zan captive, you must bring him before Us."

Even now, the murderous expression the Empress had worn after reading that letter of his was chilling to recall. Yet this same dear brother Zan now observed full courtesy toward me, styling himself one of the court's miscellaneous generals—the General Who Excels in Martial Valor. There was exactly one reason Gongsun Zan called himself General Who Excels in Martial Valor rather than Inspector of Youzhou: that was the office the court had formally conferred upon him. In other words, Gongsun Zan was now bowing himself utterly before me.

Yuan Shao, seriously—just how hard did you beat him, that this thug has turned polite toward me? That's practically a manners-injection device.

What the letter went on to say fell so squarely within my expectations that it was almost funny. He wanted me to strike Yuan Shao from behind while he pinned her down at Yijing Tower. The letter further promised that he, in turn, would open his gates and answer the assault.

Hmm... certainly not a bad offer. Yuan Shao's power was formidable, but ours was vast enough to make even hers look like nothing. In a straight fight, losing would be the strange outcome—and with Gongsun Zan attacking in concert, front and back? We could finish off the Yuan force ruling Jizhou with hardly any losses at all.

But before I attacked Yuan Shao, there was exactly one problem. Was Yuan Shao actually my enemy? In a way, her position resembled Cao Cao's back before our forces merged—neither quite enemy, nor quite ally. An ambiguous situation.

After a moment's thought, I tidied Gongsun Zan's letter aside and picked up the other.

Friendly words, as if from an old friend. And the handwriting—magnificent, befitting the scion of a house that had produced Excellencies for four straight generations.

Oh... so Cao Cao and Yuan Shao apparently corresponded regularly. What on earth had they talked about, that information about me flowed to Yuan Shao? To think talk of me was being traded in places I knew nothing about—it gnawed at me terribly. ...But that wasn't the important thing right now. I read straight on.

A rather vague question. One side was urging me to join forces with her and strike down the enemy; the other simply tossed out a question, pure and innocent. Word had it that when the remnants of Yuan Shu's faction came to entrust themselves to her, Yuan Shao beheaded every last one of them—sparing only the children. Rebels who raised arms against the state were to have three generations exterminated, that was the principle, but for the innocent children, she would stop at demoting their status.

This was... didn't it look like behavior copied from someone? For a figure unrivaled even among the cast of the Three Kingdoms in political showmanship to go out of her way to put on such a display, there had to be a meaning behind it. Like Cao Cao, she had never actively joined the coalition Yuan Shu had formed—on the contrary, she had set up a rival camp and done nothing but grate on the honey-water drinker's nerves.

Well, when someone drops this many hints, it's only human to take them. After a moment's thought, I let out a chuckle, chose one of the two letters, and swept it away from before my eyes.

Honestly, you've piled up far too much karma. Live a decent life in your next one.