Lu Meng stood at the bow of the ship, gazing into the hazy night, his spirits soaring.
Liu Bei has truly forgotten who is host and who is guest. It's time he learned a lesson.
In recent times, Lu Meng had read extensively. The raw ferocity that once clung to him had been carefully restrained, buried beneath discipline and calculation.
He had always been clear about his own position.
He was neither one of Sun Ce's old retainers, nor a member of Jiangdong's powerful clans.
He had nothing to rely on—except his lord.
For Lu Meng, his entire life belonged to Sun Quan.
Winning Sun Quan's favor through the Crimson-Clad Troops had, to this day, felt like the most profitable gamble he had ever taken.
Thus—
When Sun Quan ordered him to obey Zhou Yu, he obeyed.
When Sun Quan ordered him to study, he studied.
When Sun Quan secretly commanded him to "seek out" iron-smelting techniques to entice Jiangdong's great families, he obeyed as well.
And when acting, he told Lu Su that the decision to deploy troops had been his own.
Lu Su's talk of grand strategy and the balance of the realm was not difficult to understand.
Lu Meng simply did not care.
He was not a minister of Jiangdong.
He was Sun Quan's personal man.
So what if Guan Yu was fierce? So what if Zhang Fei was mighty?
Lu Meng still remembered what he had once told his mother as a youth:
If you don't enter the tiger's den, how will you seize the tiger cub?
"Up ahead is the Tiger Ferry River," Lu Meng ordered quietly. "Silence. Pole the boats forward."
The ships slowed.
Bright sails were swiftly taken down.
Men retrieved bamboo poles from the holds and pushed the boats forward without a sound.
Watching the vessels slip smoothly into the tributary just as planned, Lu Meng nodded in satisfaction.
Beyond his earlier gamble with the Crimson-Clad Troops, what he took the most pride in was his method of training soldiers.
Not a single man had spoken throughout the approach.
Orders were executed without hesitation.
These were his elite troops.
Does Liu Bei have anyone who knows how to train men like this?
The thought passed briefly through his mind.
With a flick of his hand, Lu Meng led two hundred elite soldiers in a silent advance toward the southern edge of Gong'an County.
How to seize the iron-smelting technique?
Craftsmen would naturally live near the forges. Capture a few alive, retreat immediately—that was all.
Blacksmiths were blacksmiths no matter where they worked.
With that in mind, Lu Meng fixed his gaze on the forge by the Tiger Ferry River south of Gong'an.
Approach by boat.
Set fires.
Kill quickly.
Create chaos.
Abduct craftsmen in the confusion.
Then ride the current straight back.
The plan was simple. Clear. Clean.
"Move—"
Before the word left his mouth, Lu Meng's ears caught something wrong.
The sound of bowstrings being drawn.
The night was quiet.
The sound of flowing water concealed Lu Meng's approach.
But it also concealed the slow, deliberate loading of Eight-Ox Ballistae.
Lu Meng had never seen one before.
But fear of arrows was instinctive.
He dropped flat instantly and rolled straight into the water.
This was no ordinary whistling arrow.
What followed was a shrill, tearing sound—
then a thunderous boom.
From the water, Lu Meng saw it clearly.
A bolt as thick as his arm slammed into the ship, pinning it in place.
Spiraling blades jutted from the bolt's shaft.
Lu Meng did not dare imagine what would happen if such a thing struck a human body.
"Retreat!" he roared.
Even without such monstrous weapons, once an ambush was exposed, the mission was already lost.
Lu Meng's soldiers plunged into the river, clinging to the sides of the boats as they pushed downstream with all their strength.
From Gong'an to the river mouth was only six hundred meters.
Lu Meng had never felt a distance so long.
The night was filled with three sounds:
The ominous creak of ballista mechanisms.
The shriek of massive bolts tearing through the air.
The grinding adjustment of gears as angles were recalculated.
On the banks, shouts erupted.
Figures ran alongside the boats, loosing arrows into the water.
Only when the ships finally reached the main river did Lu Meng breathe again.
After counting casualties, he turned back to look at Gong'an.
The defeat felt absurd.
And humiliating.
He had courage. He had studied strategy.
Without those monstrous ballistae, they could have raised sails and escaped cleanly.
Why had it ended like this?
Guan Yu was roused from sleep.
Throwing on a light robe, he stepped outside and saw the corpse being carried in.
Death had been swift.
The massive bolt had pierced straight through the waist, leaving only the upper half of the body intact.
Zhao Lei spoke quietly.
"We've checked. Mountain Yue tribesmen. Heavy calluses on the hands—veteran soldiers from Jiangdong."
"No identification on them."
Guan Yu snorted.
"Vermin."
He had already relocated the families of civil and military officials to Jiangling and stationed heavy guards around Gong'an's ironworks, papermills, and medicinal depots—sites too valuable to move.
Now, sure enough, the fish had bitten.
"Cut off the head," Guan Yu ordered.
"Hang it at the east gate of Gong'an for three days. After that, bury the body properly."
"Ma the Deserter—are you scared?"
Mi Fang grinned as he asked.
They had already arrived beneath Baishui Pass.
Zhang Fei had not ordered an assault.
Instead, camps were set up, trees felled in the rear, and the army waited—as if expecting something.
Mi Fang and Liu Feng had both noticed it.
Ever since reaching Baishui Pass, Ma Su had been trembling.
"You've been to the battlefield before," Liu Feng said, puzzled. "Why are you shaking like this?"
Ma Su swallowed hard, gripping his trembling hand.
"I am a staff officer under the lord. Why must I fight personally?"
Liu Feng spat.
"You don't know how to fight and still want to advise armies? Ridiculous."
In the past, Ma Su would have buried Liu Feng under a mountain of rhetoric.
Now, he only focused on suppressing his fear.
If he ran again, he would die—no question.
Liu Feng ignored him and craned forward.
Several chairs had been placed before the formation.
Zhang Fei sat there, chatting lazily with General Yan Yan.
After a moment, a basket descended from Baishui Pass.
A man in simple armor emerged, single-bladed saber in hand, accompanied by several guards.
Zhang Fei burst out laughing.
"Didn't I say it? They would come!"
He called out loudly:
"Which general is this—Yang Huai or Gao Pei?"
After hesitating, the defender approached and sat.
"I am Gao Pei."
Zhang Fei smiled warmly.
"I am Zhang Fei. This is General Yan Yan."
After brief greetings, Zhang Fei went straight to the point.
"General Gao—do you intend to ally yourself with the traitor Zhang Lu?"
Gao Pei exploded in fury.
"In my view, Liu of Jingzhou is the true traitor!"
"Liu Zhang never invited him! How dare he enter Yi Province unbidden!"
Zhang Fei shook his head.
"Zigui and Wuxian belong to Jingzhou. When Li Yi was alive, did Liu Zhang ever return them?"
"Tell me plainly—are the Baishui troops guarding the land for the people?"
"Of course!" Gao Pei declared proudly. "We are nothing like you plundering rebels!"
"Then what if Liu Zhang orders you to open the pass and let Zhang Lu in?" Zhang Fei asked calmly.
"Impossible," Gao Pei snapped.
"Then let me put it another way," Zhang Fei said patiently.
"If Yang Huai cannot take Langzhong, what will Liu Zhang do?"
"Recall him, and admit he cannot deal with Pang Xi?"
"Or order you to reinforce him—leaving Baishui Pass wide open?"
Gao Pei hesitated.
"That… Langzhong will fall!"
"Why will it fall?!" Zhang Fei suddenly leapt up, kicking his chair aside.
"My brother marched from Zigui to Jiangzhou without harming a hair on any citizen's head!"
"He taught the people to farm! Divided land among them!"
"Even General Yan Yan submitted willingly!"
Gao Pei's eyes drifted to the old general.
Yan Yan's reputation was known throughout Yi Province.
A guard whispered, "I heard his bones are iron… and even he surrendered."
Zhang Fei pressed on.
"Pang Xi governed Langzhong for over ten years. The people have no grievances."
"Liu Zhang never once visited!"
"Tell me—who do the people trust?"
"General Gao—will you defend Han soil and protect the people, or surrender to Zhang Lu and butcher Yi Province?"
Gao Pei was speechless.
"And do you truly think I cannot take Baishui Pass?"
Zhang Fei goaded him.
"I only refrain because I respect your righteousness!"
Gao Pei exploded.
"How could you possibly take Baishui Pass?!"
Zhang Fei sat back down, eyebrow raised.
"If I can—will you submit to Han?"
"I am a Han general!" Gao Pei shouted.
In a flash, Zhang Fei seized both of Gao Pei's hands.
"Excellent! Then let us hold a martial demonstration."
"If I win, I station troops in Baishui Pass."
"If you win, I repel Zhang Lu for you."
Before Gao Pei could react, Zhang Fei clamped a hand on his shoulder and pointed at the guards.
"Your general has agreed. Go inform the pass. Prepare for a mock siege."
"I will stay here with him. No harm will come to him."
The guards hesitated—then withdrew.
Gao Pei nearly wept.
"General Zhang… you've ruined me."
Zhang Fei laughed easily.
"That remains to be seen. You might end up thanking me."
An hour later, Ma Su stood beneath Baishui Pass, dressed in coarse cloth, holding a lime-dipped wooden staff.
Beside him, Gao Pei was still firmly trapped under Zhang Fei's arm.
Massive siege devices rolled forward.
Zhang Fei introduced them enthusiastically.
"That one with ladders—folding cloud ladders, made by our strategist."
"Those hooks can't be pushed off. Troops hide below and reach the wall safely."
"That tall one's a siege tower."
"And we've got rams coming. Even wooden oxen and flowing horses—machines that climb walls like flat ground!"
Gao Pei gave up.
"I surrender. What do you want Baishui Pass for?"
Zhang Fei roared with laughter.
In truth, these machines were mostly crude replicas inspired by the Light-Screen.
But who said deception couldn't be used in siege warfare?