Chapter 61: The Martial Exhibition Begins

They were all from the Changsun family. Every one of them was a Duke or a Marquis, while he alone was just a fourth-rank Gate Commander, tasked with guarding a door. He had been granted a residence beyond his station, yet no title to go with it. This was nothing short of humiliation by the Emperor and Empress. The more Changsun Anyi thought of it, the more indignant he became. Without looking back, he stormed out of the Duke of Qi’s mansion and took refuge in an inn. He drowned himself in wine daily, neglecting even the affairs of the Xuanwu Gate. Before long, the Changsun family had become the laughingstock of Chang’an.

Time passed bit by bit. Cai Cong was absorbed in preparing his troops for the contest with the Black Armor Army and paid no heed to Prince Yian and Zhang Liang’s pleas for mercy. He had only promised Changsun a way out, not forgiveness or the cessation of his retribution. The time for settling accounts had not yet come.

As for Zhang Liang, reckless as ever, he watched his family’s businesses decline day by day. In a fit of desperation, he led a group to attack the Taibai Pavilion, smashing and wrecking it thoroughly. But the old soldiers, though infirm, were no pushovers. When it came to surprise attacks, they often succeeded on the first strike, killing seven or eight of Zhang Liang’s men on the spot.

The next day, in full view of the court, Emperor Li Shimin scolded Zhang Liang ruthlessly, fined him a year’s salary, and ordered him to compensate Taibai Pavilion for its losses. He also instructed Prince Yian, Li Xiaochang, to return immediately to his fief and forbade him from loitering in Chang’an without cause.

Humiliated, Zhang Liang fumed until Du Ruhui, perhaps accidentally, let slip that the true backer of Taibai Pavilion might be someone within the Qingning Palace. This revelation left Zhang Liang cold with fear and privately relieved that he’d not pushed matters further.

Cai Cong fared little better. The emperor sent envoys to deliver an imperial edict, rebuking him as heartless and unfilial, even blaming him for the Cai family’s lack of heirs. In the end, he was confined to his barracks and ordered to focus on drilling his men, forbidden to meddle elsewhere.

Cai Cong was exasperated. He would gladly have done something shameful and produced a few children, but how old was he, really? He hardly deserved the blame, yet the burden was his to bear; he had no choice but to stay quietly in the camp.

The month passed swiftly, and late February arrived in haste. The Lantern Festival was of no concern to Cai Cong, who was still subjecting his poor men to rigorous training in the barracks.

February twenty-eighth was a day all of Chang’an watched with bated breath. The whole city was awaiting a grand contest. Comrade Li II wanted to test Cai Cong’s military reforms, the civil and military officials were eager to see him make a fool of himself, and the common folk burned incense for him, praying he would lose. They had all wagered on Cai Cong’s team to lose and hoped no surprises would occur.

In the great hall, Cai Cong requested a simulated battle with both armies having their own provisions and camps—a true test of practical warfare. Emperor Li Shimin readily agreed, and Li Ji volunteered to command the Black Armor Army in the exercise.

Back when Cai Cong was imprisoned by Li Ji, the two often played strategy games, and Li Ji lost every time. Now, he intended to show Cai Cong that mastery on paper meant nothing—wars were won by fighting, not by talking.

The battlefield was set along the Wei River, each army camped on opposite banks, so the citizens of Chang’an could observe. There were no sharp arrows or spearheads; everything was wrapped in thick cloth stained with red dye, and swords were replaced with wooden staves to avoid fatalities.

“Boy, I’ll show you the folly of armchair strategists—ruining the Zhao army in theory. Which side do you want?” Li Ji said darkly. As a commander of legendary renown, he would not stoop to cheating over the choice of ground. He let Cai Cong choose first to demonstrate his magnanimity.

Cai Cong grinned. “Defeated general, don’t start crying later! We’ll take this side. The other bank is yours. Let’s set up camp and begin at noon—what do you say?”

He spoke cheerfully, while all the ministers watched from the city walls. Outside, the common people crowded in anticipation; this contest would decide whether they would eat meat or millet this year.

“Eh, what battle waits for a contest to start? In my view, once camps are established, either side may attack at will, regardless of whether the other is ready. What do you think?” Li Ji replied.

“No problem—let’s begin!” With that, Cai Cong led his troops to the river’s edge, and Li Ji, undeterred, led his formidable Black Armor Army across the bridge to set up camp.

On the city walls, Fang Xuanling, Changsun Wuji, and the other luminaries chattered away, while Du Ruhui shook his head, chuckling. “Has His Majesty overestimated the Earl of Chang’an? See how the Black Armor Army’s camp is already well-established, the chevaux-de-frise in place. But look at the Earl of Chang’an—his camp is barely formed, the soldiers lack all discipline, everything is a mess, and some are fetching water from the river as if to cook!”

“I agree,” Zhang Liang sneered. “He’s just a paper general like Zhao Kuo. In real war, what does he know?” This was an opportunity to see Cai Cong embarrassed—Zhang Liang would not let it pass.

“What do you think, Yaoshi?” Li Shimin smiled, turning to Li Jing. The people below were cheering; this was how it should be. General Li had already built a pontoon bridge, while the Earl of Chang’an’s camp wasn’t even ready, his troops were in disarray, and some couldn’t even find their positions, causing the crowd to roar with laughter.

“In war, the critical moment is fleeting. It’s too soon to draw conclusions,” Li Jing said, smiling inscrutably. Standing beside him, Qin Shubao frowned, sensing something amiss but saying nothing.

Across the river, Li Ji watched as Cai Cong whipped his men in frustration, laughing until tears ran down his face. Was this rabble to challenge the Black Armor Army?

Eight hundred Black Armor soldiers crossed the river, raised their spears, and charged. Anger burned in their hearts—how dare such a force oppose them? Not crushing them in a single assault would be an insult.

What they didn’t expect was the utter disdain from the other side—some even spat in their direction. Enraged, they whipped their horses to greater speed.

At the front, Gan Xinda regarded them coolly. Suddenly, he gave a sharp downward gesture. At once, his men hauled on ropes, and a series of lines buried underground snapped taut—rising at various heights: several centimeters, half a meter, a full meter, tier upon tier.

This scene stunned not only the Black Armor Army but also the onlookers on the city walls. When had those ropes been laid?

The Black Armor Army had no time to halt. The horses in front stumbled on the ropes, those behind crashed into them, and for a moment, men and beasts were tangled in a heap.

“Fire!” Old Meng, long prepared, gave the order coldly. All the archers raised their bows and loosed arrows as one, their movements as precise as a single body.

But the Black Armor Army were veterans; at the first sign of trouble, they used their mounts as shields and raised their own over their heads. Apart from a few unlucky laggards, the rest suffered no casualties.

As soon as the arrow barrage ended, they hefted their shields and batons and surged forward. Yet, their misfortune was not over. The Earl of Chang’an’s troops, who had seemed so confused moments before, now formed up in perfect order: shield bearers in front, swordsmen at the flanks, spearmen within.

At each command, they blocked, attacked, shifted left or right, retreated in unison, moving as if they were one body. Even when a man was wounded, he was quickly pulled into the formation and replaced without chaos.

Cai Cong’s force moved like a killing machine. Each attack saw more men ruled out of action and leaving the field. From the city wall, Li Shimin watched the shifting square below, his mouth agape, unable to close it for a long time. Only now did he truly believe what Cai Cong had claimed.