Chapter 011: Utterly Unreliable

Wei Ba was startled. Instinctively, he was about to rise and return the salute, but then he remembered that his status was now different—there was no need for him to stand in return. He had barely lifted himself before he sat back down, only nodding lightly.

Dunwu was one of the outstanding young talents among the Wei family’s private troops, highly skilled in martial arts, and especially proficient in reconnaissance and assassination. Since childhood, he had undergone all kinds of training. Not yet twenty, he was already a top scout, having completed numerous missions with distinction. Assigning him to protect Wei Ba was perhaps the best gift Wei Ba had ever received in his life.

“The guard arrangements are all in place,” Dunwu said quietly, his head lowered, eyes on Wei Ba’s feet, gently reminding him, “But for safety’s sake, I must ask the young general to go into the cabin.”

Though reluctant to leave the moonlit night, Wei Ba cared more for his life and agreed. He stood up. Dunwu was about to pick up the already sleeping Wei Wu, but Wei Ba waved him off. “I’ll do it myself. Just tend to your own duties.”

Dunwu did not insist and stepped back. Wei Ba bent down, lifted Wei Wu with care, and carried him into the cabin, laying him on the couch and tucking him in with a thin quilt. Only then did he turn and motion for Dunwu to come in as well. “You can sit inside, too.”

Dunwu entered and sat properly at a respectful angle before Wei Ba, hands on his knees, back straight, head slightly bowed, his manner deferential and humble.

“I heard you’ve been on many missions. Where have you gone?”

Dunwu glanced at Wei Ba in surprise.

Wei Ba, a little taken aback, smiled. “If it’s military secret, you don’t have to tell me.”

Dunwu quickly shook his head. “Since the general has ordered me to protect you, there’s nothing I cannot say. I’m just… surprised the young general is interested in military affairs?”

Wei Ba smiled to cover his embarrassment. Evidently, the original Wei Ba had been so averse to military matters that even the family’s private troops knew it well. “The night is long and idle. Listening to you talk is a good way to pass the time and broaden my horizons.”

Dunwu asked no more and began. “The places I’ve been most often are the Three Eastern Counties and Guanzhong.”

“The Three Eastern Counties? What did you do there?”

“To keep an eye on Meng Da and watch for any westward moves he might make.”

A few days earlier, Wei Ba had heard the names of the Three Eastern Counties and Meng Da when Wei Yan was explaining the geography of Hanzhong. At the time, Wei Yan had focused on the lay of the land and said little about Meng Da himself. Wei Ba, conscious of his own secrets, hadn’t dared ask much for fear of revealing himself. Now, with Dunwu, he could ask without worry. “Is Meng Da very powerful?”

Dunwu was silent for a moment. “Stronger than the Wei family. He commands four or five thousand private troops, all veterans from the old Eastern Province army, who have been fighting for over a decade. His strength is not to be underestimated. But lately his situation has worsened, and with the Shen brothers holding him in check, the likelihood of him moving west is small.”

“How has his situation worsened?”

“He’s a surrendered general. He once enjoyed favor for two reasons: first, Emperor Cao Pi of Wei admired him; second, the Grand General Who Pacifies the South, Xiahou Shang, was very close to him. So in the Three Eastern Counties, he was like a local tyrant. The general has long wanted to reclaim those territories, but the court always refused, wary of Meng Da’s strength. But his good days didn’t last. The year before last, Xiahou Shang died; last year, Cao Pi died as well. With no more patrons, and not being close to the new Grand General Sima Yi, his days are now hard.”

As Dunwu spoke about the Three Eastern Counties and Meng Da, Wei Ba’s mind was already in turmoil. Sima Yi was in Wan City? That made sense. Though Sima Yi held a high military title, he hadn’t yet achieved any notable battle honors, so Dunwu spoke of him with little regard. But Wei Ba knew well Sima Yi’s ruthlessness. That guileful Sima Zhonghu, whom even the almost supernatural Zhuge Wolong was eventually worn down by—regardless of how the Romance of the Three Kingdoms depicted Zhuge Liang as nigh-invincible and Sima Yi as hapless, the reality was that Zhuge Liang died exhausted at Wuzhang Plains, while Sima Yi laid the foundation for the Jin dynasty’s usurpation of Wei. Their abilities were evident in the outcome.

This was an adversary not to be underestimated.

He was in Wan City? Wei Ba began to doubt the viability of his father’s “best” of the three strategies. If Sima Yi was in Wan, he could at any time take the Wu Pass road straight into Chang’an. More importantly, almost everyone seemed to ignore Sima Yi as a threat. When his father outlined his three strategies, he mentioned Meng Da, Xiahou Mao, and Zhang He, but not Sima Yi—as if Sima Yi did not even merit consideration.

How could he be so easily dismissed? Whatever Sima Yi’s reputation among posterity, his talent was undeniable—otherwise, Zhuge Liang wouldn’t have been worn out by him.

Was it possible that Zhuge Liang’s plan to take Longxi first was to avoid this lifelong nemesis?

Noticing how deeply Wei Ba was frowning, Dunwu naturally fell silent and waited quietly.

After a long while, Wei Ba realized he had been lost in thought and smiled awkwardly. “What about Chang’an? What kind of person is Xiahou Mao?”

Dunwu gave a chuckle. “Xiahou Mao is quite a character. He has only two passions in life: first, the pursuit of longevity—he gathers Daoist priests and alchemists to refine elixirs at home, hoping for immortality. Since alchemy is expensive, he also loves making money. Taking advantage of his position as General Who Pacifies the West, he does business, and in Guanzhong, everyone makes way for him. So he’s made a fortune, refined countless pills, but unfortunately, he’s yet to ascend to immortality. All he’s accomplished is to infuriate his princess wife.”

Wei Ba was puzzled, and Dunwu quickly composed himself and explained, “Xiahou Mao’s wife is Princess Qinghe, the sister of Cao Pi.”

Wei Ba suddenly understood. He knew of Princess Qinghe, Cao Ang’s full sister, but hadn’t realized she was married to Xiahou Mao and resided in Chang’an. Clearly, Xiahou Mao was favored, being able to bring his wife with him on assignment.

“When you go to Chang’an, which route do you usually take?”

Dunwu bit his lip, hesitating a moment. “We used to go most often by Baoxie Valley, but now we usually take Ziwu Valley.”

Wei Ba’s heart stirred. So his father had been planning a raid on Chang’an by way of Ziwu Valley for some time. Still, in the end, it was just a dream—Prime Minister Zhuge would pour cold water on it. Given his father’s arrogant temper, he might even argue with Zhuge Liang over it. Perhaps this would become one of the causes for any future rift. For now, though, Zhuge Liang still trusted his father greatly—or at least appeared to.

“Is Ziwu Valley easy to traverse?”

“That depends on who’s traveling,” Dunwu replied deliberately, slowing his speech as if to help Wei Ba grasp the matter. “If our army is attacking from south to north, it’s relatively easy, because our main force is infantry skilled in mountain warfare. But if the Wei army tries to go south from the north, it’s much harder. They’re not used to mountain roads, and their strongest cavalry suffers terribly on plank roads—horses are often spooked and tumble off the paths.”

“How long is Ziwu Valley? How many days does it take to cross?” Wei Ba pressed.

“The valley is nearly eight hundred li long, with about six hundred and sixty li of mountain roads. Our scouts, traveling light, can cross in four or five days if fast, seven or eight if slow.”

“And what about a large army?” Wei Ba asked.

“That’s much harder. The supply depots along the way hold limited grain; a large army must carry its own rations, unlike us, who can resupply en route.” Dunwu calculated on his fingers. “With the Wei family’s private troops, moving light and without heavy siege equipment, carrying just a month’s rations, we could cross in about ten days.”

Wei Ba was momentarily stunned and motioned for Dunwu to wait so he could digest the information. Wei Yan was a strict yet considerate commander. His troops trained diligently, and their combat skills and physical condition were far above average. With their abilities, they could cross Ziwu Valley in ten days carrying a month’s worth of rations. That meant that after emerging from the valley, they’d have twenty days’ worth of food left. If they couldn’t find more rations within twenty days, this surprise attack would be a one-way trip—they’d starve without even needing to fight.

Factoring in a return journey, there’d be only ten days left. Could they conquer Guanzhong in ten days?

When Wei Ba first heard Wei Yan discuss the Ziwu Valley plan, he hadn’t considered all these details—he just thought it was risky. Now, after hearing Dunwu’s explanation, it seemed even more preposterous. Risky wasn’t the word—it was a near-suicidal mission, akin to the kamikaze attack on Pearl Harbor. No one expected to come back alive.

Was this what his father called the “best plan”? Not only would Prime Minister Zhuge never agree, even he wouldn’t agree. Only a war fanatic would endorse such an idea. Thinking further, perhaps only the later Deng Ai, who launched the surprise attack via the Yinping Path, would approve—because both were madmen.

The more Wei Ba thought about it, the more nervous he grew, his mouth gaping in shock as he took in a cold breath. It took him a long time to recover. He looked at Dunwu. “If you were ordered to join such an operation, would you?”

Dunwu didn’t hesitate. “If the general leads, I would follow without question.”

Wei Ba blinked, thinking to himself that this was simply entrusting one’s life to another, not rational analysis. His father’s indoctrination had been effective, but that didn’t make the tactics sensible. Alas, his father sought victory through peril, while Zhuge Liang was cautious to a fault—their clash seemed inevitable. Could he serve as a buffer between them and prevent an open conflict?

“How much does a month’s worth of rations weigh?” Wei Ba asked, half worried about the future, half out of idle curiosity.

“A month’s rations is about one shi and eight dou—roughly a hundred and thirty to forty jin. Add in weapons and armor, and each man carries between a hundred and eighty and two hundred jin.”

“Pfft!” Wei Ba sprayed water all over Dunwu’s head and face. Dunwu calmly wiped himself and looked at Wei Ba with composure. “Does the young general have any questions?”

“One hundred and eighty jin?” Wei Ba jumped up. “Are you all superhuman? Carrying a hundred and eighty jin and still marching seventy or eighty li through mountain roads each day?”