Before dawn had fully broken, the fleet of Duke Lu was already in motion at the mouth of the Lancang River, sails tightened, hulls creaking softly as if the ships themselves understood that today's journey was no mere patrol but the opening move of something far more troublesome.
Mist clung low over the water, and the rising light turned the river's surface into dull silver, broken only by the steady cutting wake of Tang warships pushing upstream.
Standing atop the command deck, Wu Ba watched the riverbanks slide past with a strange floating sensation in his chest.
Three months ago, his life had been worth less than a chicken to the Lin Yi rebels.
Now he was riding north beside a Tang duke to face two kingdoms at once.
If this was not destiny, then destiny had extremely strange taste.
He even tried to compose a line of poetry in his head to match the mood, something heroic, something refined, something worthy of the moment.
Unfortunately, after several minutes of mental suffering, the only thing he managed to produce was a cough and a headache. He wisely abandoned the attempt.
Nearby, the upper deck was strangely empty.
Hou Junji had vanished again.
Only a colonel remained, calmly issuing orders as if commanding a river cruise rather than a potential diplomatic disaster.
Wu Ba was not surprised. The duke had made it very clear earlier.
Only foreign kings were worthy of seeing him.
Everyone else could negotiate with subordinates and be grateful for the privilege.
The fleet moved swiftly despite the upstream current. With sea winds pushing inland, the ships cut forward faster than expected, their speed giving the Tang soldiers an almost festive mood.
It helped that the river they now sailed was said to originate in the lands of China itself.
A river from home, even in foreign territory, had a way of making soldiers feel as if heaven was quietly backing them.
Two days passed in this manner.
The fleet ignored several small skirmishes along the riverbanks, choosing speed over curiosity. Hou Junji had made it clear that today's target was not local bandits but the two rulers whose pride currently outweighed their sense.
By the third day, the landscape opened.
The river widened and slowed, spreading into a vast lake whose surface reflected the pale morning sky. Around its edges lay rice paddies, clusters of stilted wooden houses, and at the center, a crude city formed not by design but by accumulation.
Outside that city stood two armies.
They had clearly paused mid-conflict.
Both sides were staring at the incoming fleet like villagers who had just realized that the thunder in the distance might actually be a dragon.
Tang soldiers leaned over railings, whispering and pointing.
Their astonishment, however, had little to do with the armies themselves.
The equipment was miserable.
Spears uneven, armor scarce, formations loose enough that even a training instructor would sigh.
What truly fascinated them were the elephants.
Several massive beasts stood in the ranks, painted and decorated, swaying gently as if uncertain whether they were meant for war or ceremony.
Men from the Central Plains rarely saw such creatures. Many soldiers stared openly, some even counting them like children at a market fair.
Wu Ba stepped forward without waiting to be told.
He volunteered to serve as envoy.
The acting colonel approved immediately and even assigned a squad of elite guards. After brief discussion, two envoy teams were formed, one for Chenla and one for Funan.
Wu Ba chose Chenla.
If one wished to earn merit, one might as well aim at the stronger opponent.
The Chenla ruler received them quickly.
He was dark-skinned from sun and climate, hair curled and loose, his body heavy with ornaments that glittered impressively from a distance and looked somewhat excessive up close.
The Tang soldiers observed silently.
Their private opinions were less polite than their faces suggested.
Wu Ba straightened his back and delivered the duke's message.
Both sides should remember brotherhood.
Lay down arms.
Submit disputes for Tang mediation.
The Chenla king exploded almost immediately.
He shouted in rapid local speech, voice rising and falling with the rhythm of someone who believed volume could replace logic.
Hou Jiu, standing beside Wu Ba, glanced sideways.
"What did he say?"
Wu Ba swallowed.
"He says Chenla has prepared for thirty years and will destroy Funan to unite both lands."
Hou Jiu nodded thoughtfully.
"Ambitious."
Wu Ba continued.
"He says he has ten thousand soldiers and war elephants, and advises us not to interfere if we value our lives."
Hou Jiu glanced at the so-called army again.
"Ambitious and slightly unwell."
Wu Ba hesitated, then added the last part.
"He also says that even if he kills us here, the rulers of China will not trouble themselves over a distant place like this."
That did it.
Hou Jiu's expression hardened.
"Tell him this. Chenla once sent tribute to the Sui. That makes him a subject under the Tang. A dispute between vassals requires Tang judgment."
Wu Ba relayed the words.
The Chenla king's face darkened further, rage overtaking caution. With a sharp motion of his arm, nearby soldiers leveled their spears and surrounded the Tang delegation.
Hou Jiu slowly drew his blade.
His voice lowered.
"Ask him if he intends to rebel against the Tang."
Wu Ba obeyed almost automatically.
The Chenla king laughed.
Then, in broken but unmistakable Chinese, he answered:
"Yes. And what of it?"
The response never fully finished echoing.
From the riverside came a sudden stir.
Wu Ba turned.
Tang troops were already advancing.
Armor plates caught the sunlight so fiercely that they seemed to burn, and beneath them the red uniforms looked like a spreading flame across the shore.
The duke's army had formed ranks with terrifying calm.
Wu Ba suddenly understood.
Hou Junji had never been resting.
He had been watching.
The clash that followed contained very little drama.
The gap in equipment was so vast that tactics barely mattered.
The Chenla commander ordered the safest option he knew.
Elephants forward.
Mass and fear often broke weaker enemies.
Hou Junji, however, had not sailed south to die gloriously. He had come with elite troops, reinforced armor, sharpened sabers, and above all, a generous supply of heavy crossbows.
"Crossbows ready!"
Bolts flew.
The massive beasts screamed as iron heads struck flesh. The sound alone shook the field.
But Hou Junji was not finished.
At his signal, the crossbows stopped.
A group of lightly armored specialists rushed forward, each spinning a smoking clay pot on a cord before releasing it in wide arcs.
The pots landed among the elephants.
Explosions followed.
The blasts were not enormous, but to animals unused to thunder beneath their feet, they were enough.
Elephants panicked.
They turned.
They crushed their own lines.
Chenla formations collapsed almost instantly into chaos.
Amid the confusion, Hou Jiu moved.
He discarded his saber to lighten himself, stepped onto the crouched shoulders of his comrades, and launched upward in a motion so sudden that the surrounding soldiers barely understood what had happened.
By the time Chenla guards realized, he was already there.
A short blade pressed against the king's throat.
The ruler froze.
Hou Jiu spat lightly to the side.
"I told you you didn't understand life."
Then, with a grin that mixed exhaustion, greed, and battlefield joy, he muttered:
"If this works out, maybe I really do become Lord Hou Jiu."