Zhao Yun and Zhang Fei had chosen their timing perfectly.
Pang Tong knew full well that this was merely the enemy's vanguard. Reinforcements could arrive at any moment, so he deliberately refrained from committing his full strength.
Even so, it was more than enough to hand Du Xi a defeat that was neither light nor trivial.
After gathering the remnants of the routed troops and pulling back, Zhang Ji glanced at Du Xi—who still somehow wore a faint smile—and finally couldn't hold back his irritation.
"If General Du has no intention of leading troops," Zhang Ji snapped, "you might as well submit your resignation to General Xiahou!"
The reprimand caused the smile on Du Xi's face to fade slightly. He fixed his gaze on Zhang Ji, who did not yield an inch and stared right back.
In the end, Du Xi clearly had no desire to argue further. He waved his hand dismissively.
"Make camp where we are. We'll wait for the main army to link up."
Only after Zhang Ji stormed off in a huff did Du Xi murmur to himself, almost thoughtfully:
"So this De Rong… born of a common clan, is he?"
After Guan Yu took Jing Province, his blade had pointed straight toward Yingchuan. As a native of Yingchuan himself, Du Xi's access to information was exceptionally sharp.
The plan was obvious enough: advance first into Guanzhong, draw Liu Bei's attention there, and then strike suddenly in Jing Province.
Zhang Ji was furious over the earlier defeat—but what Du Xi saw was something else entirely.
Liu Bei had truly lost his head, stationing cavalry in a place like this.
He ruled over lands already strapped for resources. Strengthening Guanzhong meant weakening Jing Province.
Did he really think himself another Emperor Gaozu?
Sacrificing the greater picture for immediate gain—just as expected.
The advantage is with us… no, with the Chancellor.
After waiting quietly for a day, Xiahou Yuan finally arrived with his forces. He didn't dwell much on the vanguard's earlier loss, simply reorganized the troops and advanced to Linwei, launching yet another massive, ostentatious siege.
With matters temporarily settled, Du Xi began carefully counting the enemy soldiers on the walls of Linwei from afar.
And the more he counted, the wider his smile grew—never once fading.
What a city full of elite troops and capable generals.
What a pity they were stationed in entirely the wrong place.
In Du Xi's view, Guanzhong was already shattered beyond repair. Yong and Liang Provinces were even worse. How many soldiers worth fighting could possibly be raised here? It was an astonishingly foolish investment.
Even if Yong and Liang were secured, pushing east would still mean facing Chang'an, Tong Pass, Hongnong—layer upon layer of obstacles.
Jing Province, on the other hand, was entirely different.
It was the gateway into the Central Plains. Ru, Ying, and Yu were open plains—ideal terrain.
Even if General Xiahou were to lose this battle, it would still be worth it!
If Xiahou Yuan knew what Du Xi was thinking right now, he'd probably have him packed up and sent straight back to Yingchuan.
At this moment, however, as Xiahou Yuan watched Linwei's orderly defenses—and noticed a particularly conspicuous Han general shouting commands atop the walls—his mood darkened.
To think that his late brother's daughter had merely gone outside the city to gather firewood, only to be seized by this very man.
How he wished to take that bastard's head and offer it in sacrifice to his brother.
That was Xiahou Yuan's most honest, uncomplicated thought.
"What a pity Old General Huang isn't here," Zhang Fei muttered inside Linwei, smacking his lips. "Otherwise…"
The remark made Pang Tong lift his eyes.
He studied Zhang Fei seriously for a moment or two before withdrawing his gaze, returning his attention to the mathematics text before him.
For Pang Tong, both attacking and defending cities left little room for him to shine. Everything that needed arranging had already been settled before the battle began. With time to spare, he might as well read.
He himself wanted to go to Jing Province—but Yong, Liang, and Guanzhong simply couldn't be abandoned.
Still, as long as they could hold until changes arose in Jing Province…
Thinking this far, Pang Tong let out a quiet sigh.
From last year to this one—Yunchang and Yuanzhi had both had it hard.
Xu Shu stared at the three urgent reports laid out on his desk and felt, quite sincerely, that his life wasn't easy either.
He'd anticipated this, but seeing emergency dispatches from Duyang, Wuyin, and Biyang arrive almost simultaneously still made his temples throb.
He opened them one by one. The contents were nearly identical—each reported large-scale Cao forces advancing.
Duyang led into Yingchuan. Wuyin and Biyang faced Runan.
Put together, the message was simple enough:
"The Cao bandits are coming."
Guan Yu rose to his feet unconsciously, pacing back and forth across the hall twice before sitting back down. His right hand had already clenched tightly around the Green Dragon Crescent Blade. His stance said everything.
Rubbing his head, Xu Shu quickly accepted the reality he'd long expected and took the initiative to reassure him.
"Yunchang, don't be anxious."
"Duyang has Old General Huang and Guan Ping, with heavy troops and favorable terrain. It will hold for now."
"Feng Xi and Zhang Nan are steady commanders. They're holding Wuyin and Biyang in a pincer formation. Wuyin relies on mountainous defenses—it won't fall easily."
Guan Yu rose again and studied the map, then suggested:
"Shall we order Xiang Lang and Liao Li to lead troops toward Biyang, advancing cautiously and reinforcing when the time is right?"
"Agreed," Xu Shu nodded, lowering his head to write the orders.
Among the three directions, Biyang was the weakest. Reinforcing it was prudent—better safe than sorry.
Once the initial shock passed, Xu Shu quickly regained his composure. He even felt the Cao army's attack had come a little too early.
After all, Wancheng had received news from Hanzhong only two days ago.
By normal reasoning, five to ten days would have been optimal—there was even a chance Jingbei might divert troops to Guanzhong.
But attacking after just two days meant that even if troops truly had been redeployed to Hanzhong or Guanzhong, there was still ample time to call them back.
Thus, Xu Shu's first thought was:
Had something changed within Cao Wei? Or had something shifted within Jiangdong?
In truth, it made little difference.
Cao Wei's move was meant to seize momentum and morale—but Jingbei had been waiting for this assault for over a month.
If Cao Wei didn't come, morale might have dipped instead.
Lost in thought, Xu Shu heard the soft scratch of brush against parchment. He looked up.
Sure enough, General Guan was already drawing three arrows on the map, starting from Yingchuan and Runan, all pointing straight at Jingbei.
"For now," Guan Yu said, "we must wait for the second urgent report."
Xu Shu nodded.
"And observe Jiangdong's movements as well."
As he spoke, he stepped forward and tapped Jiangxia on the map, then slowly slid his finger northwest—also pointing at Jingbei.
Guan Yu let out a short laugh.
"If Jiangdong joins the attack, they'll target Jingnan first. Next would be Jiangling. Only after taking both would they consider Jingbei."
The reasoning was simple.
Jingnan's four commanderies bordered Yang Province and were the easiest to seize.
Jiangling, meanwhile, was a stronghold on the Yangtze. Those rats relied on their navy and guarding the river—of course they'd covet it.
By comparison, attacking Jingbei—even in coordination with Cao Wei for a four-pronged encirclement—
"What benefit is there in attacking Wancheng?"
Standing at the bow of a ship, full of confidence, Lü Meng wore an expression of utter disdain. He felt that Cao Wei's generals had no idea how to think from Jiangdong's perspective.
Attacking Wancheng from Jiangxia meant that barely half the route was by water—and that was being generous.
Worse still, it was the dry season. Even that half of the water route was difficult to navigate.
Marching Jiangdong's navy across land for a thousand li just to encircle Guan Yunchang?
Lü Meng thought the Cao commanders were indulging in pure fantasy. No wonder Red Cliffs had gone up in flames.
Sailing upstream from Jiangxia, once past Red Cliffs, two hundred li further lay Baqiu—where Zhou Gongjin had fallen ill and died.
Standing at the bow, Lü Meng gazed upon the place, lost briefly in remembrance.
If Gongjin were still alive, he'd gladly serve under him as a mere battlefield champion.
But Gongjin was gone now.
Someone had to plan for Lord Sun's dominion.
"I, Lü Meng," he declared silently, "having received the favor of Marquis Sun—this is a duty I cannot refuse."