Chapter 8: Wei Yan’s Three Strategies

Wei Ba’s argument left the girl in white speechless, earning honor for his father, but his satisfaction did not last long. Wei Yan finished his official business, drove out the magistrate of Mianyang and his subordinate—whose backside still bore the marks of a beating—and then his expression darkened.

“What do you think of General Guan?”

Wei Ba, seeing his father’s face, instantly realized the true issue had arrived. The Ma family was merely a matter of appearances; Ma Chao was already dead, Ma Dai was but a captain, and with his father’s temperament, he would hardly care about them—scolding them was all, nothing more. Yet the matter of Guan Yu was no trivial affair. From Wei Wu’s words, Wei Ba knew that Wei Yan respected no one, save for Guan Yu, and that admiration bordered on reverence.

This could only be attributed to a shared temperament. Wei Yan and Guan Yu had much in common: both were valiant in battle, versed in military strategy, had read some books but looked down upon scholars, and above all, were supremely confident—almost to the point of arrogance, indifferent to all others. Wei Yan’s disregard for even the esteemed generals of Cao Wei was proof enough; among Shu’s commanders, only Guan Yu truly met his standards. He had long admired Guan Yu’s flooding of the seven armies, shaking the realm and nearly forcing Cao Cao to relocate his capital. Years spent guarding the passes had only deepened Wei Yan’s longing to one day lead troops north like Guan Yu, to restore the Central Plains.

Wei Ba’s insult of Ma Chao as a stray dog was of no consequence—in Wei Yan’s eyes, Ma Chao was indeed a stray dog. But Wei Ba’s lack of reverence toward Guan Yu was intolerable to Wei Yan, and it infuriated him.

Ma Chao’s daughter, when upset, was like a leopardess—imposing and fierce. Yet before Wei Yan, the true tiger, she was but a minor threat. Seeing his father’s drawn face, Wei Ba felt uneasy, his legs trembling more violently than if clad in two suits of armor. Wei Yan cast a sidelong glance, his fingers flexing ominously, as if ready to hurl Wei Ba to the ground and deliver a thrashing at the slightest misstep.

Had Wei Ba remained the frail youth of old, had he not reflected deeply during his illness and resolved to conquer himself and change his fate, he would surely have been terrified, unable even to face his father calmly.

But now he was prepared. Having just bested the Ma family in argument, his confidence had grown, and he hoped to use this opportunity to remind Wei Yan not to repeat Guan Yu’s mistakes. Master Xu had said: “A man may possess an unyielding spirit, but must not be arrogant. Pride leads to tragedy. Guan Yu proved this, and if you do not change, so shall you.”

Wei Ba steadied himself and spoke slowly. “Father, I have heard that when the First Lord thrice visited Chancellor Zhuge at Longzhong, the Chancellor proposed a strategy for dividing the realm into three. Are you familiar with it?”

Wei Yan’s brows furrowed; Wei Ba had not answered his question, instead bringing up Liu Bei’s visits to the thatched cottage—a topic that irked him. Yet, seeing Wei Ba's calm demeanor and composed tone, not one of jest, he uncharacteristically refrained from rebuking him. After a pause, he said, “I heard the First Lord mention it occasionally, but only in fragments. My knowledge is limited. Where did you hear of this?”

“Father, let us not dwell on where I heard it.” Wei Ba did not wish to get entangled in such minutiae, for they might expose him or distract from the main topic. He cut his father off and continued, “The Chancellor’s strategy had two key points: first, to seize Jing and Yi provinces and divide the realm into three; second, to deploy two armies to restore the Central Plains.”

Wei Yan narrowed his eyes, his gaze fixed on Wei Ba. He had not been bluffing; his understanding of the strategy was indeed superficial, gleaned only from Liu Bei and Fa Zheng’s discussions about the state of the world. The specifics eluded him, but Wei Ba’s summary captured its essence.

“When the First Lord entered Yi Province, General Guan remained in Jing Province, bearing the heavy responsibility of securing both Jing and Yi and preparing for the future two-pronged campaign. Yet Guan Yu was defeated at Maicheng, not only losing his life but handing Jing Province to Eastern Wu. The plan to hold Jing and Yi became empty words, and the two-pronged strategy was rendered unattainable. Given the current situation, Shu can only deploy troops through Hanzhong, far less feasible than marching from Jing Province to Wan and Luoyang. Guan Yu’s defeat nearly extinguished Shu’s prospects. Can such a man truly be called a great general?”

Wei Yan snorted. “You judge heroes by success and failure. Victory is not the sole measure of greatness. Sometimes, defeat arises from factors beyond a general’s control. Having read the historian’s works, do you not recall that Xiang Yu said, ‘Heaven has doomed me—it is not the fault of war’?”

Wei Ba was surprised. Was there more to Guan Yu’s loss?

“Are you saying that losing Jing Province and Maicheng was not Guan Yu’s fault, but someone else’s?”

“There is much hidden in General Guan’s defeat—one cannot explain it in a few words. When we return to Nanzheng, I can tell you in detail.” Wei Yan sighed, his expression somewhat forlorn. “Still, you recognize the grave consequences of losing Jing Province, which shows some insight. I hear from your brother that you already suspect the Chancellor will soon move to Hanzhong to launch a northern campaign. Tell me, then, what strategy will the Chancellor employ?”

Wei Ba grew nervous. He knew how Zhuge Liang would campaign, but at this point, the event had not yet occurred; his answer would be a prediction, not a judgment of history. If he guessed right, all would be well, but a misstep would shatter the hard-earned good impression in his father’s eyes.

“What’s the matter? Bold enough to criticize General Guan, but not the Chancellor?” Wei Yan sneered.

Wei Ba took a deep breath and decided to take the risk. He had just arrived in this world and had never left Hanzhong; his influence should be minimal, unlikely to alter history’s course. Besides, Zhuge Liang was not someone easily swayed.

“The Chancellor will feint with troops through Xie Valley, but send his main force through Longxi.”

“To feint through Xie Valley, but send the main force through Longxi?” Wei Yan laughed in disappointment, his tone full of disdain. “Is that your insight? Ha! Nonsense. I knew it—you cannot have become clever overnight. Now it’s clear, just some petty wit, nothing substantial.”

Wei Ba was unmoved and smiled. “What strategy does father propose, then?”

Wei Yan regarded him, pondered briefly, and said, “Well, since you’re interested in military affairs, I’ll teach you a bit, so you won’t embarrass yourself later.” He tapped the desk twice, then raised his head. “A commander must understand geography. Tell me, how much do you know about Hanzhong’s terrain?”

Wei Ba shook his head. “I know only a little, not much detail. Please instruct me, father.”

Wei Yan had not expected much. He rose, fetched a scroll from the inner room, spread it on the desk, and beckoned Wei Ba closer. Wei Ba leaned in, somewhat disappointed. The map was very crude, with only a few lines and place names—far inferior not only to modern maps, but even to the Han dynasty military map unearthed at Mawangdui.

“There are three routes from Hanzhong to Luoyang.” Wei Yan traced his finger gently across the map—a rare tenderness, showing how much he treasured it. “First, descend east from Hanzhong along the Mian River, heading for Xiangyang and directly toward Wan and Luoyang. This is the most direct and shortest route—the best option. Second, cross the Qin Mountains, seize Guanzhong, then follow the Wei River east to Luoyang. Since this involves crossing great mountains, it’s more difficult and requires first taking Guanzhong, which is time-consuming. But Guanzhong is a strategic fortress, famed for its four barriers; Qin once took the world by holding Guanzhong. If we secure Tong Pass and block Cao Wei from advancing west, we can take Guanzhong at our leisure. Compared to directly attacking Wan and Luoyang, this requires fewer troops and is a safer approach—the middle option. The third route is through Longxi, as you suggested. It’s the longest, and after taking Longxi, to seize Guanzhong we must breach the Long Mountains, which is quite troublesome. If we are delayed in Longxi and Wei’s main force arrives to assist, Guanzhong will see a fierce battle, the outcome uncertain. Thus, your route is the least reasonable of the three, the worst option.”

Wei Yan looked up, coldly smiling at Wei Ba. “Of the three strategies, you choose the worst. With insight like yours, you dare judge General Guan?”

Wei Ba was unconcerned. He trusted his father’s judgment—the Longxi route was indeed the worst. Yet history showed that Zhuge Liang chose it. Could he not see the merits of the three options? Though Zhuge Liang was not a supernatural strategist as portrayed in the Romance of the Three Kingdoms, he was undeniably one of the era’s greatest military minds. He must have had reasons for choosing the worst route; perhaps his cautious nature compelled him, but there must have been factors beyond his control—Wei Ba simply did not know them yet.

Wei Ba knew that in science and technology, he could be considered a leader in this world, but in military strategy, he only had a stomachful of historical anecdotes, lacking real knowledge of specific matters—such as the geography of Hanzhong, which Wei Yan had just mentioned.

He smiled. “Father, perhaps you are right, but that is merely your opinion; the Chancellor may think differently.”

Wei Yan snorted again. “The Chancellor is the commander of the northern campaign, no doubt. But as I am the General Who Guards the North, appointed by the First Lord to defend Hanzhong for nearly ten years, the Chancellor must consult me. Even if he doesn’t use my best plan outright, he will at least adopt the middle option. With his wisdom, would he choose the worst? Do you think he’s like you?”

Wei Ba rubbed his nose and smiled even more humbly. To persuade his father now would be nearly impossible; in every aspect, he could not hope to prevail and would only provoke his father’s displeasure. But fortunately, the standard for right and wrong was not whose reasoning was better, but what actually happened in the end. Since his father was so confident, perhaps letting him face reality would not be a bad thing.

“Father, since the Chancellor will soon arrive in Hanzhong, why don’t we wait and see what strategy he adopts?”

“Of course.” Wei Yan, thinking of the northern campaign and his own imminent importance, became more cheerful. He laughed, stroked his short beard, and after pondering, said, “Your insight may be lacking, but you can read and write—something your brother cannot match. Since you are interested in military affairs, from now on you can handle some paperwork and help your brother with his duties.”

Wei Ba habitually agreed, but as he realized what he’d committed to, his scalp tingled. He could talk well enough, but to actually write—never mind composing formal documents in classical style, even his calligraphy was an unsightly mess. He looked up at Wei Yan, meeting his father’s encouraging gaze, hesitated, then swallowed his refusal and nodded firmly.

To survive in this world, he would have to learn brush calligraphy and master the reading and writing of formal documents. Since that was inevitable, why not start now? The beginning is always hardest; with his father and elder brother to guide him, he would not embarrass himself in public—what a rare opportunity, not to be missed.

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