Lu Su felt it more deeply than ever now:
this ship called Jiangdong was becoming harder and harder to steer.
Lu Meng's twenty thousand troops, taken by themselves, did not alter the overall strategic balance.
But their very existence already signaled something far more troubling—a subtle shift in his lord's attitude.
Troops were no longer being concentrated at Ruxu.
No timing was being chosen for a northward advance.
Instead, reinforcements were sent to Jiangxia.
And worse still—Lu Meng's actions were increasingly beyond Lu Su's control.
If he tried to comfort himself, he could tell himself this was merely his lord being momentarily misled by Lu Meng's short-sighted advice.
But if he considered the worst possibility…
Lu Su shook his head.
Speculation was useless at this point.
The only thing he could do now was write to his lord and ask directly.
After that, once Lu Meng arrived, they would have to cross swords—politically, at least—and deal with matters as they came.
Having roughly settled on a course of action, Lu Su stopped staring at the massive warships below the walls and descended from the battlements.
He spread out a sheet of Sun Marquis Paper.
After a moment's thought, he retrieved a letter Kongming had sent him several days earlier.
Kongming's letters were always brief.
This one complained about how troublesome the southern tribes of Nanzhong were, and then—almost as an aside—mentioned that Jiangdong possessed a talented individual named Lu Yi, asking what Lu Su thought of him.
When Lu Su reread the letter, he actually had to pause and think:
Lu Yi… who was that again?
Only after some effort did he dredge up a vague, low-presence figure from his memory.
What opinion could he even have?
He barely knew the man.
And besides—Kongming was all the way in Yizhou.
How had he even learned this name?
Still, Lu Su hadn't taken the letter out for that reason.
He was comparing the paper.
He rubbed the sheets between his fingers, held them up to lamplight, tore one, and even burned half a page to examine the ashes.
Only then did he finally exhale in relief.
Good.
The paper Kongming used was nearly identical to Sun Marquis Paper.
As far as Lu Su knew, Jiangdong had already begun improving this paper.
It seemed Jiangling's engineering workshops weren't omnipotent after all.
Relaxing slightly, Lu Su bent over his desk and began writing to Sun Quan.
When he looked up again, the moon had already risen halfway into the sky.
Bu Zhi was standing silently nearby, though Lu Su couldn't say when he had arrived.
Stretching, Lu Su sealed the long letter and handed it to him.
"Deliver this to my lord at once. Urgently."
In the letter, Lu Su had exhausted every argument he could muster, laying out gains and losses in painful detail—hoping only that his lord would seize the moment and strike Hefei.
Sighing, Lu Su raised his head and gazed at the dim moonlight.
For the first time, he felt truly split in two.
He wanted to go downriver and present his arguments in person—
yet feared that the moment he left, Lu Meng would cause some irreversible disaster.
At this moment, Lu Su found himself oddly envious of Kongming.
Thinking of Kongming reminded him of something else:
that letter where Kongming claimed the moon held no Moon Palace, no Chang'e, no Jade Rabbit.
Lu Su still couldn't understand it.
Where did Kongming get so many strange ideas?
While Lu Zijing sighed at the moon,
Zhao A was under that same moonlight—along with blazing torches—working at full speed.
The entire western bank of the Han River was roaring with noise.
Huang Zhong was stationed at Dangyang. With his unmatched archery, he had shot Cao Wei's scouts so thoroughly that none dared approach.
Since last year, under Guan Yu's orders, Huang Zhong had overseen the construction of docks along the Han River east of Dangyang.
The naval forces from Jiangling were anchored here.
Zhao Lei supervised the construction of barracks and the storage of grain and supplies.
Guan Yu and Xu Shu remained in Jiangling, consolidating resources—waiting only for the right moment to launch the northern expedition.
Zhao A scratched his head.
"We're lighting this many torches—won't the Cao army up north notice us immediately?"
From his straightforward fighting experience, the best tactic was obvious:
act weak, hide your strength, then stab when they aren't looking.
Why make such a grand show now?
He couldn't figure it out, so he stopped thinking about it.
Surely General Guan had his reasons.
On a rise overlooking the north, Zhao Lei stood with Ma Liang.
They couldn't actually see Yicheng two hundred li away—but that didn't stop their spirits from soaring.
Yicheng was also Ma Liang's hometown.
Thinking of home meant thinking of his younger brother. He shook his head and spoke honestly:
"If General Guan doesn't attack, he has his reasons."
"Still," he added, "I can guess a bit."
Zhao Lei perked up.
"Let's hear it."
Ma Liang didn't need to recall anything deliberately.
A detailed map was already etched into his mind.
After copying and redrawing it countless times, the map from the screen had practically branded itself into his thoughts.
Combining that analysis with the situation in Jingxiang, Ma Liang spoke calmly:
"If Fan City falls, then Xiangyang and Yicheng will surrender without a single battle."
"But if Fan City does not fall, then even if Xiangyang and Yicheng are taken, they cannot be held."
"The key point," he said, "is this—Xiangfan has no navy."
Zhao Lei nodded.
Why didn't Xiangfan have a navy?
Because it had all been burned at Red Cliffs.
When Cao Cao marched south in force, he seized Jingzhou's fleet and ordered Yu Jin to build ships north of Wancheng.
Those ships sailed south along the Yu River into the Han river, then the Yangtze—straight into annihilation at Red Cliffs.
In a sense, Cao Cao wasn't wrong when he said he burned his ships himself.
Most of them hadn't been his to begin with—nothing to feel heartbroken over.
After Jingzhou's fleet was destroyed, Cao Cao trained a new navy on the Wo River in the north.
Its advantage was clear: from there, one could reach both the Yellow and Huai Rivers—covering most northern waterways.
Its disadvantage?
To reach Xiangfan, it would first have to reach Hefei, break through Jiangdong at Ruxu, sail up the Yangtze, break Jiangxia, enter the Han River—and only then arrive.
In short: impossible.
Thus, from the very beginning, Guan Yu and Xu Shu had planned to make the biggest possible spectacle—drawing every eye south—while coordinating from afar with Zhang Fei and Pang Tong in Hanzhong, seeking a chance to defeat many with few.
As for Jiangdong, both general and strategist agreed on one thing:
Be good.
Don't cause trouble.
Go sightseeing in Hefei.
Naturally, the activity at Dangyang did not escape Yue Jin's notice.
As a general who had tasted defeat, the first priority was posture.
Sword never left his hand.
Armor never left his body.
Sleeping with weapon in reach.
Night patrols without fail.
All of it was done.
At the same time, Yue Jin weighed a crucial decision:
Should Xiangyang be abandoned in favor of Fan City?
Guan Yu's navy was simply too eye-catching.
But above all, one thing mattered most—
Request reinforcements.
The message was sent to Fan City.
Soon, mounted messengers rode out, spreading word of Liu Bei's invasion to Xinye, Zhong'an, and Wancheng, ordering all to strengthen defenses.
They passed Xuchang without stopping, racing to deliver the news directly to Ye City and Cao Cao.
When the news reached Wancheng, Hou Yin and Wei Kai—kneeling across from each other over tea on a teahouse's second floor—both stiffened.
Without a word, their thoughts diverged.
Tea no longer mattered.
When Cao Cao received the report, his mood soured instantly.
"Daring to invade—are they seeking death?!"
His words were fierce.
But in his heart, tension coiled.
After Red Cliffs in the thirteenth year of Jian'an,
after the battle for Nan Commandery in the fourteenth,
grain had been nearly exhausted.
Only in the fifteenth year did recovery finally begin.
Then last year, flushed with success, he forced a rebellion in Yong and Liang—fighting from April to November.
Grain was again critically low.
Thus, when he learned in February that Liu Bei had taken Hanzhong, Cao Cao had no choice but to suppress his fury.
Even a clever wife cannot cook without rice.
A chancellor cannot field troops without grain.
Withdrawing Xiahou Yuan from Guanzhong would only hand victory to Liu Bei—unacceptable.
So the original plan had been to wait until July's harvest.
Now everything was thrown into chaos.
Xun You lowered his gaze, declining to comment on Cao Cao's bravado.
He merely said:
"Since Liu Bei has already taken Yizhou and Hanzhong, Jingzhou must be a secondary front.
For him to advance north now—he must be confident."
Cao Cao nodded, thoughts clarifying.
"What he relies on is nothing more than that newly built navy."
He snorted, tension easing.
"Order Wen Ze to lead the army to Fan City.
Command Wen Qian to hold Xiangyang.
They must support each other—and not retreat a single step."
Fifteen thousand troops.
That was all the remaining grain could support.
The orders were flawless.
Xun You nodded and went to draft the commands, privately thinking:
Yue Jin's earlier losses must have truly angered the Chancellor—otherwise such explicit instructions wouldn't be necessary.
The lack of a navy at Xiangfan was no secret to Xun You.
But neither he nor Cao Cao considered it fatal.
After all—strong walls, deep moats.
What could ships do? Sail up and bite the city?
Having responded, Cao Cao finally relaxed.
In his mind, this was merely Liu Bei's overconfidence after swallowing two regions.
Hold firm, and nothing would be lost.
Just as he was calculating where else grain might be squeezed from, a second report arrived.
Xun You took it, opened it—and his eyes widened.
"Gongda, what now?"
Xun You said nothing, only handed over the silk message.
Cao Cao read it—and cursed aloud.
"That thief! He fled Xuchang thinking I spared him for talent alone?!"
Then the anger faded, replaced by a heavy sigh.
"Yun Chang…"
The message was simple:
Liu Bei's army has issued a proclamation against traitors.
The commanding general is Guan Yu, with Xu Shu as strategist.
Xun You understood his lord's feelings and remained silent.
Cao Cao paced twice, then decided:
"Since Yun Chang leads this army, Xiangfan is truly in danger.
I will move to Xuchang and oversee the war personally!"
The order was entirely reasonable.
Ye City was far.
The rebellion earlier that year was already quelled—there was little to do here.
Xun You suspected that regardless of whether the battle turned good or bad, Cao Cao would seize the chance to inspect the front lines.
Even without this, Xun You had planned to recommend a trip to Xuchang.
After Xu Shu's defection, too many people there had begun thinking dangerous thoughts.
Most troublesome of all was his own uncle—the one praised as having "the talent to assist a king"—whose attitude remained frustratingly ambiguous.
Let this trip wake him up, Xun You thought bitterly.
In Jingxiang, matters were far simpler for Guan Yu.
With supply transport completed—enough for a full offensive—Guan Yu and Xu Shu moved from Jiangling to Dangyang.
Then, clad in full armor and gripping his Green Dragon Crescent Blade, Guan Yu gave the order.
The Han River fleet set sail.
Huang Zhong took command at Dangyang.
Water and land advanced together.
Straight toward Xiangfan.