The light-screen shuddered softly, like a living thing drawing breath, then stabilized once more. Its pale glow washed across the hall, stretching shadows long against the pillars as the future continued its merciless unfolding.
[Voiceover]
After Sima Yi suppressed the rebellion in Xincheng, he sent a letter to Shen Yi, promising safety and pardon. Shen Yi believed him. He went to meet Sima Yi in person—only to be seized, shackled into a wooden cage, and escorted under heavy guard to Luoyang. In less than a month, the rebellion was completely extinguished.
A heavy silence followed.
Then Zhang Fei slammed his palm against the table so hard the cups rattled.
"Bah!" he roared. "This Meng Da really is his father's son! Raises a banner of revolt, then trusts a letter from the enemy? That's not courage—that's stupidity!"
His voice echoed through the hall, raw and unfiltered.
Ma Su, standing behind the seated officials, swallowed hard. His eyes remained glued to the screen, admiration slipping through his caution.
"This Sima Yi…" he murmured under his breath, unable to help himself. "He truly is terrifying."
The words had barely left his mouth when Ma Liang's elbow snapped backward, striking Ma Su square in the ribs.
Ma Liang didn't even turn around. His eyes stayed forward, calm, composed—but the warning was unmistakable.
Watch your tongue.
Ma Liang remembered Mi Fang vividly: loyalty unquestioned, service unquestionable—and yet one misstep had ruined everything. In this hall, words carried weight heavier than armor. The Ma brothers did not have the luxury of carelessness.
Huang Zhong leaned forward, his aged fingers tracing invisible lines along the glowing terrain on the light-screen. The map shifted smoothly at a gesture, rivers gleaming like silver threads, mountains rising and falling with uncanny clarity.
"If…" he began slowly, voice rough with age and battle, "if troops had been sent early to reinforce Meng Da—if Xincheng had been held as a fixed point—then strikes could have been launched toward Xiangyang and Fancheng…"
He paused.
Then he shook his head, exhaling through his nose.
"No. It wouldn't work. Without Jingzhou as a solid rear, such a force would be nothing but rootless duckweed. Once the supply lines were cut, they'd be strangled in those mountains."
Guan Yu said nothing, but his eyes never left the screen. He watched as the terrain rotated, supply routes highlighted in flowing light, distances recalculated instantly. Compared to this, the handcrafted sand tables in the county office—so expensive, so fragile—felt suddenly crude.
If I could command with something like this…
The thought lingered, sharp and tempting.
[Voiceover]
In 227, the Prime Minister assembled his forces in Hanzhong. It was there that Wei Yan, Governor of Hanzhong, proposed a daring plan later known as the Ziwu Valley Stratagem.
The screen depicted a narrow, twisting mountain corridor—steep cliffs, dense forests, paths barely wide enough for two men abreast.
Five thousand elite troops, the narration continued, marching through Ziwu Valley. Wei Yan claimed Chang'an could be taken in ten days. With Chang'an seized, Tong Pass could be locked. Guanzhong and Liang would be trapped—like a dog behind a closed door.
A ripple of reaction spread through the hall.
Zhang Fei turned slowly toward Wei Yan, whose ears were already burning red.
"Wenchang," Zhang Fei said, grinning broadly, "once we take Hanzhong, how about we send you through Ziwu Valley? See if you can really do it in ten days."
Laughter erupted.
Wei Yan's jaw tightened. He rose halfway from his seat, fists clenched.
"If the Lord commands it," he growled, "I will go—even if it costs my life!"
Before the tension could snap, Kongming stepped forward, feather fan lifting gently.
"Actually," he said calmly, "the Ziwu Valley plan is not inherently impossible."
The room froze.
Zhang Fei stared at him. "But Advisor—the screen just said you rejected it!"
Kongming smiled faintly.
"That was Prime Minister Zhuge Liang," he replied evenly. "I am Military Advisor Zhuge Kongming."
A few people blinked, unsure whether he was joking.
"If one avoids the rainy season," Kongming continued, tone precise but thoughtful, "equips the troops with leg wraps to prevent swelling, provides coal powder for warmth, and prepares compact rations… then yes. A fierce general could force a breakthrough."
His eyes flicked briefly to Wei Yan.
"It would require divided strikes, perfect timing, and ruthless execution—methods once used by the Supreme Ancestor and Han Xin. Difficult. Dangerous. But not fantasy."
Wei Yan felt something tighten painfully in his chest.
Understood.
For the first time, he felt truly understood.
The light-screen darkened, then brightened into a different image entirely—geological layers, fault lines, massive plates pressing and grinding beneath the land.
[Voiceover]
Before the campaign even begins, we must speak of a tragedy.
Sichuan's frequent earthquakes stem from tectonic activity—much like Japan. These movements bring riches: iron, copper, silver. But they also bring devastation.
The screen trembled.
In 186 AD, the Wudu Earthquake struck. Ancient records say: "The mountains collapsed."
A vast lake appeared—then shattered.
The Tianchi Great Marsh was destroyed.
Kongming's grip tightened on his fan.
In Han Xin's time, the narration continued, this marsh raised the Han River's water level, creating a navigable water highway. Supplies flowed swiftly. Armies moved like storms.
The image shifted: rivers shrank, channels fractured.
When the marsh vanished, so did the waterway. Rivers became shallow torrents. Boats were useless. The road between Chengdu and Hanzhong was severed.
A barrage of comments scrolled past.
[Bullet Chat |
NoSleepGG: "So the final boss was geography??"
Han.exe: "Earth Dragon OP, pls nerf."
Blade404: "This is why logistics win wars."
Li Shimin: "Japan's silver mines? Mine."
No one laughed.
Kongming's fan trembled.
The Longzhong Plan—his life's blueprint—had been built upon the geography of the Han founders. He now understood the cruel truth.
The enemy was not only Cao Wei.
The enemy was the earth itself.
"The Tianchi Marsh…" Jian Yong whispered. "It was the nation's lifeline."
"So what?"
Kongming's voice cut through the gloom, steady and resonant.
"The Supreme Ancestor relied on lakes," he said. "Our Lord relies on this light-screen. The restoration of the Han does not depend on ancient waters!"
Zhang Fei slapped his thigh, grinning fiercely.
"That's right! We have Jingzhou, half of it at least—and Yizhou within reach! We're already farther than when Cao was chasing us like dogs!"
The screen shifted once more.
[Voiceover]
Spring, 228 AD.
The Northern Expedition begins. The Prime Minister announces to the world: "I march through the Shie Valley to take Mei."
Maps flashed. Arrows split.
Zhao Yun and Deng Zhi advance as bait. The true blade strikes Mount Qi.
Another comment floated past.
[Bullet Chat |
FeatherOP: "This was the best opening Shu ever had. One chance. One window."
The narration concluded quietly.
Cao Zhen was absent. The west was empty. The Han banners rose over Mount Qi—and history held its breath.
The hall remained silent.
No one spoke.
They all understood.
This was not merely a campaign.
It was a wager against fate itself.