The Child Emperor

No one stood on the left. In fact, for a while, the atmosphere remained oppressive and tense. No one moved, and soldiers from other parts of the village, discovering the incident, dared not come to investigate without orders.

Zhao Mengli was not just their general but also a strict father and alpha wolf who had tamed his troops with sword and whip for years. Now that he had fallen, the threat of his weapons hadn’t immediately vanished – they still hung metaphorically over everyone’s heads.

Han Ruzi hadn’t thought that far ahead. He had walked step by step into this desperate situation, and continuing forward was his only option. He slowly drew his blade, then gently pushed aside the spears before him, advanced two steps, and stepped aside to reveal the corpse behind him. Looking into an officer’s eyes, he asked, “Are you a soldier of Great Chu, or Zhao’s dog?”

The man trembled, unable to speak.

“I am a soldier of Great Chu!” Cui Sheng shouted from outside the crowd. When the Weary Marquis had struck, while others rushed forward, he alone had stepped back. For him, the choice was easy – he had already taken his place on the right side. “The Weary Marquis has an imperial edict! He is here to take command of the Southern Army by imperial order. Zhao Mengli deserved death!”

Eager to establish merit before the Weary Marquis, Cui Sheng pointed at the scout who had stopped halfway, “Tell them, isn’t the Northern Army marching south?”

The scout, who had just dismounted when he witnessed General Zhao’s death, stood petrified. When questioned, he grew more terrified, “Ah? The Northern Army… yes, there is a Northern Army…”

Han Ruzi walked slowly toward the weapons, and the officers and guards blocking his path stepped aside, though they kept their weapons drawn.

When the crowd parted to form a passage on both sides, Han Ruzi stopped and turned, coldly eyeing the seven or eight people on his left.

Han Ruzi’s anxious heart finally eased slightly.

Zhao Mengli had owned a tiger-fur chair that he carried everywhere. It now sat in the council hall, which had no other seating – before him, no other person, officer or soldier, had the right to sit. If a superior came, he would make arrangements in advance.

Han Ruzi sat in the tiger-fur chair, finding it neither comfortable nor imposing. A dead thing was just a dead thing – no matter how fierce and violent the tiger had been in life, now it was merely a rug, balding in places and showing signs of moth damage.

Zhao Mengli was also a dead tiger. His lingering authority, like the tiger skin, was now just a symbol.

Those subordinates who had recently trembled before him now strictly followed custom. Without waiting for their new master’s order, they cut off Zhao Mengli’s head with a sword and displayed it throughout the fort, announcing that the Weary Marquis had taken control of Windy Fort by imperial decree.

No one came forward to object, much less attempt revenge.

Cui Sheng and a group of officers carried the head out of the fort to show the Southern Army troops and summoned the officers of various camps to enter and pay respects to the Weary Marquis.

Han Ruzi sat in the tiger-fur chair with Meng E standing beside him, while across from them, about ten paces away, knelt the trembling scout.

Taking advantage of the brief moment of time, Han Ruzi needed to first address a potentially significant loose end.

“Speak, what news do you bring?”

“The Northern Army… the Northern Army…”

“What about the Northern Army?”

“We captured a Northern Army spy.”

So that was it. Han Ruzi pressed further: “Was he gathering military intelligence?”

The scout shook his head and after a moment, squeezed out a few words, “He came from White Bridge Town, heading to Mancang City to deliver a message when we caught him.”

This was the messenger Cai Xinghai had sent out last night. He had traveled unimpeded along the main road until reaching the area where the Southern and Northern armies converged, where hidden sentries intercepted him. It was a mistaken capture – due to poor coordination between the two armies, the sentries had acted simply upon seeing Northern Army uniforms, regardless of which direction the messenger came from.

Han Ruzi was stunned. He had been counting on the Northern Army to quickly march south as reinforcements, but now their messenger had been captured. He couldn’t show anger or reveal the truth, so he said, “This man was going to receive Northern Army soldiers. Release him immediately.”

“Yes, yes.” The scout, his forehead covered in sweat, rose to leave.

Han Ruzi, being familiar with military matters, called out: “You’re leaving just like that? Without military orders, on what authority will you release someone?”

The frightened scout immediately knelt again, “Yes, yes.”

“Call all the military officers in the fort here.”

Under Zhao Mengli’s command, the clerks who wielded brush and paper were treated worse than the armored soldiers. They were a sorry sight, almost like prisoners, and few in number – only about ten below the rank of Chief Clerk to handle paperwork for an army of ten thousand.

They showed utmost respect to their new master, likely with some secret joy in their hearts. They quickly wrote up the release order. The official seal had been in Zhao Mengli’s possession and Han Ruzi had obtained it before entering the hall.

After applying the seal, Han Ruzi handed the military order to Meng E at his side, “Have Chao Hua and the Northern Army soldiers escort the scout to deliver this order. After the messenger is released, he is not to linger but shall go straight to Mancang City. Return only after you’ve seen the messenger freed.”

Meng E raised her eyebrows slightly. Her duty was to protect the Weary Marquis personally, especially now when they were deep in Northern Army territory. If she left, the Marquis would be completely isolated and without support.

Han Ruzi’s lips twitched slightly, signaling to Meng E not to worry – he was confident he could control the Southern Army forces here.

Meng E accepted the order and left. Chao Hua and over two hundred Northern Army soldiers set out to free the messenger and deliver the message – a force large enough that even if Northern Army sentries had further misunderstandings, they wouldn’t dare to obstruct them.

The military clerks, discovering that the Weary Marquis was more approachable than Zhao Mengli, began boldly offering suggestions which Han Ruzi largely accepted. Soon after, military orders bearing the Left General’s seal were sent out to dozens of military camps between Windy Fort and White Bridge Town. The content was simple – declaring that the Southern Army command had transferred to the Weary Marquis’s hands, and from that day forward, all documents were to be sent to wherever the Weary Marquis was located.

While soldiers and officers were the visible army, documents were the less conspicuous web that could overcome strength with subtlety, gradually drawing the army together.

Half an hour passed, and Han Ruzi felt it was time. He summoned the commanders who had been waiting outside for some time.

Over a hundred commanders filed in, some having just arrived. A few hours earlier they had been sound asleep in their tents when suddenly awakened and told of an imperial edict. Without understanding what was happening, they had mounted up with their troops and galloped here, not even knowing whom they were following. After hearing countless rumors along the way, this was their first time seeing the Weary Marquis.

Zhao Mengli’s head had a powerful intimidating effect. Even commanders with divided loyalties entered the fort obediently, wanting to see what kind of person this Weary Marquis was who dared to move against the Grand Tutor’s confidant, and more importantly, to see the supposed imperial edict.

The imperial edict was key. The Southern Army was, after all, an imperial force. Despite the overt and covert struggles between Grand Tutor Cui and the Empress Dowager, the hundred thousand soldiers still remembered the words “Great Chu.” Officers like Zhao Mengli who were loyal only to Grand Tutor Cui were the minority, mostly kept close by Cui Hong.

The palace hadn’t issued any edicts for nearly half a year, and everyone understood the great significance of this first edict.

Han Ruzi repeated his half-true “lies” once more, this time more concisely but also more convincingly. The number of troops heading to the Capital to protect the emperor was specified down to the thousand, the Champion Marquis’s defeat was presented as fact, and Cui Hong was described as cornered with only a thread of hope remaining.

Han Ruzi timely produced the imperial edict, holding it up to show everyone, but not allowing anyone to examine it. From now on, this edict would remain only with him.

The Southern Army commanders from White Bridge Town had seen the edict before, but after several hours of rushing about in panic, most had forgotten its exact contents. They only remembered the imperial seal on it and the Weary Marquis’s earnest words. These two memories naturally merged, and so they earnestly assured other commanders that the edict indeed ordered the Weary Marquis to take command of the Southern Army and lead troops to rescue the emperor.

The Cui brothers were more anxious than anyone else, rushing to volunteer to persuade their father to surrender as soon as possible.

Han Ruzi chose Cui Sheng, the eldest son of the Cui family who was more trusted by his father.

“Please tell the Grand Tutor that if he wants to return to White Bridge Town, fine – one hundred thousand Northern Army troops and forty thousand Southern Army troops will meet him in battle at Windy Fort.”

“Battle? No, no! There won’t be any battle. Father is a wise man. Once I explain things to him, he’ll understand. Weary Marquis, brother-in-law, please don’t be angry. We’re family – we can discuss this reasonably.”

Cui Sheng hurriedly took his leave, bringing only two guards with him. He rode back to White Bridge Town without rest, his mind filled with the ideas the Weary Marquis had instilled in him.

Han Ruzi couldn’t immediately go reinforce White Bridge Town. More Southern Army troops were still arriving, and he needed to consolidate his victory, ensuring these forty thousand men would give him their complete loyalty.

Due to the rushed departure, only slightly over thirty thousand Southern Army troops ultimately reached Windy Fort. Nearly ten thousand remained behind for various reasons.

Han Ruzi felt this was enough. He opened the fort’s main gates wide and established camps at the foot of the mountain to accommodate the new soldiers. During this time, he promoted several commanders and then led all the officers to inspect every camp both up and down the mountain, making sure every soldier saw him and witnessed how the Weary Marquis had gained the support of numerous commanders.

Cui Teng personally carried the Southern Army’s Left General’s banner, following beside the Weary Marquis with an unprecedentedly serious expression.

It wasn’t until late in the night that Han Ruzi finally had a moment’s rest.

News arrived from White Bridge Town that Grand Tutor Cui hadn’t launched a counterattack with his troops, which gave him some relief.

Though exhausted, Han Ruzi didn’t dare sleep. He sat alone in the tiger-fur chair in the council hall, deep in thought. He hadn’t achieved final victory yet, and from now on, each step would become increasingly difficult.

Grand Tutor Cui wouldn’t be so easily fooled. His choice would have immeasurable impact on the future situation. Then there were Shang-guan Sheng and the Empress Dowager in the city – they wouldn’t admit defeat easily. If things developed to the point where battle became necessary, Han Ruzi’s chances of victory were extremely low. Neither the forty thousand Southern Army troops he had just acquired nor the Northern Army troops who thought highly of him would likely openly oppose the imperial court for his sake.

A guard entered and stood respectfully at the door, saying, “Lord Grand Marshal, your attendant has returned.”

Han Ruzi nodded.

Soon after, Meng E entered and stopped ten paces away. “The Northern Army will take three to four days to arrive.”

“Mm.” Han Ruzi wasn’t surprised – these three or four days would determine his victory or defeat, life or death.

Meng E hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward twice. “May I ask you something?”

“Of course.” Han Ruzi showed a slight smile. Seeing Meng E made him feel somewhat more secure – at least his safety within ten paces was somewhat guaranteed, allowing him to focus on matters beyond that radius.

“Your strength is clearly inferior to others, yet you dare to compete for the throne. I’m puzzled – where does your confidence come from?”

Han Ruzi’s smile widened. “You think one needs power first to compete for the throne?”

“Of course. Most people think that way, don’t they?”

“They’re wrong. The throne itself is power. You can’t possibly gain power first and then compete for power. If one had to wait until having enough power before competing, the Founding Emperor would never have established Great Chu. Throughout history, emperors were always the most powerful, yet they could still be murdered, deposed, or overthrown. Why?”

Meng E shook her head.

“They possessed power but didn’t know how to use it. Like a peerless sword that can only be hung on a wall for appreciation rather than wielded to strike – naturally, others will find opportunities to take advantage.”

Han Ruzi shifted in his seat. “I once held the emperor’s sword but let it go. Now I want to take it back. Meng E, I have learned how to wield the sword.”

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