"Xiu-yuan and Wen-jin… both perished because of my negligence."
The words came slowly, each one dragging the weight of a dying kingdom behind it. At last, Liu Bei grasped the full measure of his failure. In the shifting glow of the light-screen, he could almost see their faces—Feng Xi, calm and scholarly even on campaign; Zhang Nan, stern and tireless, eyes bright with the zeal of a man who truly believed he was fighting for the restoration of Han. Those faces now lingered as specters.
"They treated me with the devotion due a true sovereign," Liu Bei murmured. "And I… I did not protect them."
"Mount Ma'an has likely fallen," Guan Yu said quietly. His voice, though steady, carried the chill of command at a funeral. "Lu Xun used flame to purge the camps and a hidden fleet to sever the river. His main body still holds no less than forty thousand."
"And our brother's banner is trapped among the burning lines…"
"Second Brother, look!" Zhang Fei tugged at Guan Yu's sleeve, pointing toward the light-screen.
Ma Liang's hand trembled as he copied the name of Shamoke. The King of the Five Streams—gone so suddenly?
[Light-Screen]
"Bei ascended Mount Ma'an, setting his troops in a defensive circle."
Mount Ma'an lay west of Yiling—a ridgeline guarding the only road north to Zigui. For Liu Bei, it was the last door out of hell. Ma Liang was likely stationed there as liaison with the Five Streams tribes, whose warriors had rallied to Shu's banners.
Here the two armies finally met in a direct clash of steel.
Liu Bei, holding the high ground, commanded barely ten thousand exhausted survivors. Lu Xun had fifty thousand fresh men, eager for plunder and promotion. A tail-wind battle—the easiest of all.
Every Wu soldier knew the Emperor of Shu stood atop that peak. They needed no order to fight; greed and glory drove them mad.
Against such numbers, the Shu ranks could only fight to die. Fu Rong and Cheng Ji held the line until the last heartbeat, buying a path for their lord's escape.
Liu Bei fled alone to Baidi. His veteran army—tempered through Jing, Hanzhong, and Yi—was annihilated. Generals slain, captains scattered, the backbone of Shu turned to ash.
The hall fell silent.
Liu Bei remembered the banquet where Fu Rong, already drunk, had wept for the Han and vowed to die before surrender. Now that vow lay fulfilled. His fists whitened.
He knew exactly what "total annihilation" meant. An army's strength is not in numbers but in experience—in the captains who know when to press and when to yield, the sergeants who can hold a line in the dark. New conscripts could fill the ranks, but veterans… veterans were irreplaceable.
Without them, even an army rich in gold and grain becomes nothing more than frightened rabble.
"The men of Wu fight best when cornered," Wei Yan said suddenly, his voice respectful but firm. "Their commanders rule through fear and reward. When neither suffices, their soldiers scatter. But at Mount Ma'an, they fought for home—and for a fortune promised to the slayer of an emperor. Who would not fight like a madman?"
"Wenchang is correct," Guan Yu agreed. "Third Brother, never belittle an enemy defending his soil."
Zhang Fei nodded, chastened.
Guan Yu studied Wei Yan more closely. The light-screen had called this man a future traitor, yet also the indispensable arm of Zhuge Liang. Liu Bei had insisted on bringing him into council despite all warnings. Perhaps, by treating him now with trust instead of suspicion, that dark prophecy could yet be undone.
[Light-Screen]
Shu-Han's collapse traces back to two fatal errors.
First, the campaign's lost months. The army advanced swiftly in 221, capturing Wuxian and Zigui—then inexplicably halted until early 222. That pause gave Sun Wu time to rally and Lu Xun time to weave his defenses.
A line buried in official chronicles hints at the cause: "In the second year of Zhangwu, the Sovereign posthumously honored Lady Huang Si and ordered her remains moved to Shu, but he died before the burial was completed."
Some scholars speculate those missing months were spent relocating Lady Gan's tomb from Nan Commandery—an act of devotion in the midst of war.
Liu Bei blinked, then shook his head. "Idle conjecture. Perhaps plague delayed the march at Zigui."
Zhang Fei frowned. "Brother, if it were anyone else, I'd agree. But you…"
The rest stayed silent; their eyes said everything. Lady Gan had long been the quiet pillar of Liu Bei's household—gentle, capable, uncomplaining.
"She is well," Liu Bei insisted softly. "A mere chill, the physician says. She recovers."
Relief rippled through the room, but Kongming and Pang Tong exchanged a wary glance. Something in that denial rang too hard, too practiced.
Pang Tong's eyes suddenly lit with grim comprehension. He scribbled a message and slid it across to Kongming.
[Light-Screen]
Second, the half-year stalemate.
As a modern saying puts it: "I'm waiting for my ultimate skill to cool down—what are you waiting for?"
Lu Xun withstood ridicule from older generals, filing report after report to calm Sun Quan's court. He waited for morale to wane, for heat to rise, for Liu Bei to slip.
The moment Liu Bei abandoned the river, Lu Xun struck. In a contest of patience, victory belongs to the one who blinks last.
Had Liu Bei held steady, Lu Xun might have been forced into a reckless attack—and lost.
But history knows no ifs. Were it otherwise, Guan Yu would have ridden north from Xiangfan and ended Cao Cao with one stroke.
"Second Brother," Liu Bei asked quietly, "at Xiangfan—if Sun Quan had attacked Hefei in concert, could we have taken Xuchang?"
Guan Yu shook his head. "If Sun Quan had that virtue, the Treaty of Xiang River would never have existed. You would have taken Hanzhong already, and this war would be over."
"Idle fantasies," Jiang Wan said. "Even with victory, Lu Xun's footing was fragile. He soothed his ruler above and tamed his prideful peers below. One false step and he'd have been devoured by his own camp. The Lord's odds were even—no more."
Liu Bei nodded, though a deeper pain twisted inside him. Where is this Lu Xun?
The intelligence from Jian Yong lay hidden in his sleeve—a full genealogy of the Lu clan, but nowhere did the name Xun appear.
[Light-Screen]
Historians later called Yiling Liu Bei's "Gamble with Destiny."
Cao-Wei stood mighty but not invincible; Sun Wu, swollen by its seizure of Jingzhou, was distracted by its own gains.
Some believe Liu Bei's southern campaign was a deliberate lure—to draw Wei's attention and force a three-way struggle.
But the young emperor Cao Pi proved no match for the seasoned schemer Sun Quan.
Kongming unfolded Pang Tong's note. Four simple words stared back at him—
Pi is inferior to his father.