62. Zeng Shunqin Sets Fire to the Supplies

Guan Yunlong and Chen Kun fell silent at once. Nangong Mingchen spoke coldly, “After all this time, the soldiers of Great Yue have been dealt with, yet the person is still not here? General Guan, General Chen, you certainly have a way with things!”

Chen Kun and Guan Yunlong immediately knelt to plead guilty. “Your Highness, this general has already searched the entire camp; whether dead or wounded, none matched the royal member of Great Yue. Perhaps the information was wrong, or perhaps... the person has already fled.”

Fu Lanchen frowned. “Fled?” Five thousand cavalrymen marched through the night, only for the target to escape?

Chen Kun continued, “This general has dispatched men to search the surrounding area. By tomorrow, there will surely be a result. I beg Your Highness to grant this general one more day.”

Though he spoke thus, Fu Lanchen knew in his heart that the person was likely beyond their grasp.

Fu Lanchen no longer looked at them, turning instead to the chaotic camp behind him, where corpses lay everywhere, blood pooled, and soldiers stood nearby, awaiting the Prince’s orders.

A faint red glow had already risen on the horizon; the night was nearly over. Fu Lanchen sighed softly. It seemed their night raid was destined to end in failure.

Taking the Dabie Mountains as a boundary, to the west lay Wan City, Canzhou County, Lookout Mountain—key border strongholds. East of Dabie Mountains were Pingzhou, Yuzhou, and Yun’er.

Since capturing Lookout City, the Emperor had ordered the seizure of Pingzhou. King of Liaodong, Yuwen Kun, originally wished to accompany the campaign, but Fu Lanchen and Marshal Qu Zhe considered that the old prince, grieving deeply for his lost son and weary from battle, should stay behind for his health and for the stability of Liaodong. They insisted Yuwen Kun remain.

The old prince protested for two days, until the Emperor sent him a personal directive.

Its meaning aligned with Fu Lanchen’s, but Fu Lanchen lacked the Emperor’s skill at soothing people. Upon reading the Emperor's letter, the old prince promptly agreed to return to Liaodong City to serve as rear support, freeing Fu Lanchen and the others from worry.

Thus, the King of Liaodong arranged for his two sons to accompany the army.

Yet before the main force set out, a major issue needed resolving.

Fu Lanchen entered General Qu Zhe’s command tent; Nangong Mingchen and the other officers had arrived early.

Fu Lanchen sat at the center, General Qu Zhe at his right, Nangong Mingchen at his left, followed by more than ten deputy generals in order.

General Qu Zhe, known as the Loyal Martial General, was always incisive in speech, never wasting words.

As the meeting began, Fu Lanchen invited everyone to speak frankly, when General Qu Zhe declared, “Your Highness, today I personally inspected our remaining provisions. There is only enough for seven to ten days.”

No sooner had Qu Zhe finished than the officers who assisted in the inventory echoed his assessment.

Fu Lanchen considered: seven to ten days—ten days only if the soldiers’ rations were frugally managed.

His gaze deepened. “Gentlemen, do not worry. I have already submitted a memorial to Father, requesting an increase in provisions and military pay. However, from gathering, transporting, guarding, to provisions actually arriving at our depot, the fastest would be eight days.”

In fact, he had sent such a memorial days ago, but matters of provisions always required urgency.

Even if the capital had finished preparations, transporting and guarding the supplies could not be handled carelessly, and required careful scheduling.

Fu Lanchen continued, “Therefore, before new provisions arrive, I ask all officers to set an example—do not overly reduce the soldiers’ rations, but absolutely avoid waste.”

The officers responded in unison, “We follow Your Highness’s orders and will not fail your expectations!”

Fu Lanchen flipped through the simple Liaodong topographical map on his desk, pondering. “Zhongci, I have an idea I wish to discuss with you.”

The second son of the King of Liaodong rose and answered, “Your Highness, please instruct me. I am willing to listen.”

Fu Lanchen glanced at Qu Zhe, saw his approving look, and began to share his thoughts with the second prince and the assembled officers.

Yuwen Huai was a prudent man; entrusting him with this matter inspired confidence.

Imperial provisions would surely arrive—only time was needed. Having captured Lookout and Pingzhou in succession, their campaign had dragged on. What was urgently needed was a batch of provisions, so that before imperial supplies arrived, morale would not suffer.

Yuwen Huai, unlike his arrogant elder brother, was agreeable and easy to communicate with. After listening to Fu Lanchen and Qu Zhe, he immediately agreed to return to Liaodong City to procure provisions. “I will not fail Your Highness and the general’s trust.”

Fu Lanchen quickly rose and helped him up. “Zhongci, no need for ceremony. The general and I believe you will handle this well.”

Qu Zhe also looked at Yuwen Huai with admiration. Considering how the King of Liaodong, fierce and warlike, had fathered such a scholarly son, it was indeed a blessing for the army and people of Liaodong.

The main force rested for five days, and Fu Lanchen finally had time to adjust his state, tidying up the military texts and defense maps scattered across his desk.

He had never been on the battlefield himself, only read some military treatises; strategy, fortifications, geography—all from books. To avoid becoming a burden in such large-scale warfare, he could only devote more time than others, so he had not properly rested in ages.

When Fu Lanchen was young, the Emperor arranged for him to study the classics. As soon as he grasped the basics, he found Confucian teachings outdated, and the doctrine of non-action overly vague, often challenging his tutor.

At age ten, he began to study military tactics, and soon questioned his instructors, “Sir, what you teach from the book—why does it differ so much from what General Wu Jing and my uncle say?”

General Wu Jing was a legendary war hero, the Flying Swan General! Her tactics could hardly be compared to ordinary standards.

Fu Lanchen’s uncle, Marquis Changping Song Gu, was also from a family of generals; as a youth, he succeeded his father, defending the western frontier, and even the Flying Swan General praised him as a talent unrivaled in his generation.

Fu Lanchen compared their methods to the rigid rules of the treatises, leaving his instructors in a difficult position.

Thus, his persistent challenges soon gave his teachers heart troubles, leading them to resign and return home.

Such incidents happened often in Fu Lanchen’s youth, much to the Emperor and Empress’s exasperation.

Yet in recent days, Fu Lanchen had regretted his youthful obstinacy, which left him now either handling military affairs or catching up on military treatises.

On the fourth night of the army’s rest, Fu Lanchen and General Qu Zhe were discussing whether the force of hundreds of thousands should be divided into three groups or four, and how to properly allocate provisions for the march.

Just then, a junior officer hurried in to report: someone had attempted to set fire to the granary, but failed; he requested the Prince and the general to come and decide.

Fu Lanchen put down the map and said firmly, “I will go with the general to see.”

The group arrived at the granary, where the soldiers had already extinguished the fire. Seeing Fu Lanchen, they hurried forward to plead guilty.

Fu Lanchen merely swept his gaze over them and instructed his deputy generals, “Though the fire has been extinguished, this matter must be thoroughly investigated; no mistakes are permitted.”

The deputies dared not slack, answering respectfully, “Reporting to Your Highness and the general, the perpetrator has been apprehended by Marquis Gongmin; please review.”

General Qu Zhe was examining the wounded firefighters when he heard the deputy’s words. Without turning, he shouted, “Bring the person up! I want to see which scoundrel dares to cut off our provisions at such a time.”

Deputy General Chen Kun stood at attention. “Yes, General!” He then personally brought up the group who attempted arson.

Everyone looked, astonished but not daring to question. Among those bound and kneeling, the leader was none other than Zeng Shunqin, the famed swordsman who had come to join the Prince half a month earlier.

By rights, Zeng Shunqin was treated with great respect by the entire army for his assistance; why would he do such a thing? The officers were as puzzled as General Qu Zhe, waiting for Fu Lanchen to begin the interrogation.

But Fu Lanchen only looked at Zeng Shunqin calmly, saying nothing, seemingly waiting for Zeng Shunqin to speak first.

Having been caught, Zeng Shunqin could not hide anymore; in fact, he had never intended to escape unscathed. Once he burned the granary and deprived the army of supplies, his mission would be accomplished.

He could not understand one thing: why, just as the fire started, the patrolling guards discovered it and quickly put it out.

He had chosen the most remote western camp, acted deep in the night, and had incapacitated the original guards—there should have been no defense. Yet it seemed as if someone was waiting for him to ignite the fire; before the provisions even began to burn, a second group of guards appeared out of nowhere, extinguished the flames, and captured him and his accomplices.

Zeng Shunqin was a courageous man; even bound, he was unruffled, though his eyes betrayed his unwillingness. “Your Highness, enlighten me?” He felt he had been extremely cautious, unable to see where he had slipped.

Fu Lanchen finally studied Zeng Shunqin seriously, silent for a moment, as if pondering something, but ultimately spoke, “I knew you as a youth, and we shared loyalty and honor. You came to assist me, and I believed you a chivalrous man with a heart for the nation. I should not have doubted you. Yet, you... had very poor luck, for you encountered Marquis Gongmin.”

Hearing this, Zeng Shunqin turned to look at Nangong Mingchen—the frail, scholarly young marquis? His confusion deepened; he had never interacted with him nor revealed any flaw. How could Nangong Mingchen have known?

Nangong Mingchen smiled elegantly, stepped forward, unbound him, and before everyone, removed the armor from his arm, then rolled up his sleeve, exposing the wound.

Zeng Shunqin looked at the injury on his arm. It was half healed, the nature of the wound and the weapon unclear.

Chen Kun, a veteran of many battles and expert at assessing wounds, examined it for a moment and declared, “It looks like a sword wound. The blade was very sharp, leaving a clean cut with no abrasion. But the sword’s edge seems spiral-shaped—the wound ends with a double-ringed gash.” He assumed the point was to examine the injury.

Nangong Mingchen smiled at General Chen Kun. “General Chen, examine the wound on his right shoulder as well.”

So Chen Kun approached and uncovered Zeng Shunqin’s right shoulder, revealing a wound inflicted by a hidden weapon.

It was shaped like a crescent moon.

Zeng Shunqin looked at Fu Lanchen, realizing something, and asked in confusion, “Did you begin tracking me before I even reached the camp? Were those two on the road your men?”

Fu Lanchen heard this and suddenly laughed. “Two people?” He then looked curiously at Nangong Mingchen, questioning him with his eyes.

Everyone was eager to know what gave Marquis Gongmin the upper hand and allowed him to avert disaster. At last, Nangong Mingchen stopped withholding the truth and recounted the entire incident.