lThe first time Zhang Zongheng met Tie Niaofei, he hadn't thought much of him.
Just another Jin merchant—capable, perhaps, but nothing worth lingering on.
This time was different.
Very different.
Because this time, Tie Niaofei hadn't come alone.
He had brought fifty carts of grain.
In that instant, Zhang Zongheng found Tie Niaofei to be the most agreeable man he had met in the past year—no, perhaps the past two.
Sun Chuanting clasped his hands and sighed deeply.
"Master Tie… this really is timely assistance. You've saved lives."
Zhang Zongheng looked past the man and toward the convoy, then asked calmly,
"On your way north, did you encounter rebel attacks?"
Tie Niaofei laughed easily.
"A few small bands. Nothing serious. I have three hundred guards—drove them off without trouble."
He said small bands deliberately.
He said nothing about Cao Cao.
Trouble didn't need invitations.
As expected, neither Zhang Zongheng nor Sun Chuanting doubted him.
Zhang Zongheng's gaze slid to the three hundred cavalry standing behind Tie Niaofei—neat formation, good horses, disciplined posture.
Three hundred cavalry, he thought.
No ordinary merchant commands that.
Tie Niaofei caught the flicker of suspicion and smiled.
"I'm from Hedong Circuit," he said lightly, "and I have some ties with Xing Honglang of Yongji. You both know her background. I… borrowed a few cavalry from her."
Understanding dawned immediately.
Xing Honglang—the former salt smuggler turned rebel, later pacified by Yang He, Supreme Commander of the Three Border Regions of Shaanxi. Recently rewarded and appointed Military Preparations Commissioner of Hedong.
Her forces were larger than many official garrisons.
Lending three hundred cavalry? Perfectly plausible.
And yet—
Those were now official troops.
Official troops escorting a merchant convoy?
That was outrageous.
But only a pacified rebel would dare something like that. A regular Ming officer wouldn't even consider it.
Zhang Zongheng and Sun Chuanting exchanged a look.
The Datong border army had run out of grain because of rebels—
and now had grain thanks to rebels.
History had a cruel sense of humor.
Still.
Grain was grain.
With supplies secured, Zhang Zongheng no longer felt the need to tolerate traitors. He leaned toward his adjutant and spoke in a low voice.
"We can move on Tian Shenglan now. Take the fort he bribed as well."
The adjutant clasped his fists and turned to leave.
Just then, Tie Niaofei chuckled.
"Governor-General," he said, "I have a small request. Not a very polite one."
Zhang Zongheng raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
"There's… an old grudge between Tian Shenglan and me."
Zhang Zongheng understood instantly.
"You want him for yourself."
Tie Niaofei grinned broadly.
"Exactly."
Zhang Zongheng weighed the matter for half a breath.
Fifty carts of grain had just saved his army.
This was a small price.
"Very well," he said. "You may go with my men. If Tian Shenglan is captured alive, he will be handed to you."
Tie Niaofei's smile sharpened.
"Much obliged."
Red Stone Dam.
Named for the jagged crimson rocks scattered across the land.
Built atop those rocks stood a small border fort—Red Stone Fort—one of the Great Ming's 823 border forts, more than a hundred li south of Datong.
To the north, just twenty li away, stretched the grazing lands of the Mongol Chahar tribe.
Closer to the enemy than to home.
Inside the fort, forty-five soldiers sat around large iron pots, eating heartily.
Meat.
Grain.
Salt.
While other garrisons starved, these men feasted.
Why?
Because they had already sold their souls.
Tian Shenglan had bought them long ago.
Whenever his caravans arrived, they waited below the fort. When the Mongols came, deals were struck openly—right beneath the beacon tower.
Grain. Salt. Tea. Iron pots.
Gold. Silver. Jewels.
Many of those jewels were still dark with blood.
Everyone knew the grasslands produced no gold or silver.
These were spoils from raids within the passes—loot stripped from Han villages, from corpses still warm.
To sell grain back to the Mongols using blood money stolen from the same people—
That took a certain kind of man.
Tian Shenglan was exactly that kind.
He stood atop the beacon tower now, squinting northward.
Below the fort lay another hundred shi of grain, neatly stacked.
He had already sent word.
The sun slid toward the horizon.
The soldiers below finished eating, burping contentedly, smug smiles on their faces.
Then—
On the northern grasslands, dust rose.
A dark mass appeared.
The Mongols.
Tian Shenglan's face lit up. He waved enthusiastically.
The Mongols waved back.
Under the setting sun, both sides greeted each other like long-lost lovers rushing into an embrace.
And meanwhile—
Hidden among the rocks to the north, Tie Niaofei lay prone beside Bai An, one of Zhang Zongheng's trusted generals.
Tie Niaofei held a telescope.
"They're here," he chuckled. "We strike when the goods are being exchanged. Red-handed."
Bai An craned his neck.
"What kind of treasure is that? Let me see."
Tie Niaofei handed it over.
Bai An peered through the lens—and froze.
"I can see the pimples on their faces," he muttered. "I really want to squeeze them out for him."
"Hey!" Tie Niaofei snapped.
"You don't feel that urge?" Bai An asked seriously.
"I only want to squeeze my own pimples," Tie Niaofei said. "Why would I squeeze someone else's? Wait—why are we even talking about this?"
Bai An coughed and regained his composure.
"This thing is incredible. Brother Tie, sell it to me."
Tie Niaofei grinned.
"Name your price!"
The words left his mouth—and his heart nearly followed.
Idiot.
This is Gao Family Village military equipment.
He shook his head violently.
"No sale. No matter the price."
Bai An frowned.
"I was just about to make an offer."
"I spoke too fast," Tie Niaofei wiped his brow. "Not mine to sell."
Bai An sighed wistfully.
"What a pity."
Tie Niaofei glared.
"Can you focus?"
Bai An snapped upright.
"Right. Focus."
He peered through the telescope again.
"They're starting the trade."
A grin spread across his face.
"Good. Signal the men."
"Begin the encirclement."