Chapter 032: The Struggle to Win Her Over (Part One)

The soldiers atop the watchtower descended into chaos at the mere mention of Wei Yan’s name, clearly unnerved. Someone hastily climbed down and sprinted into camp. In no time, countless torches flickered to life within the encampment, and several hundred soldiers surged out. They ran in such a hurry—some hastily donning armor as they moved, others not bothering at all. Yet regardless of their state of dress, their faces were uniformly anxious, their ranks in utter disarray, with no semblance of formation.

Arriving before the camp gates, they did not open them but instead raised their weapons in a tense display, ready for confrontation. Wei Yan sat astride his horse, one hand loosely holding the reins, the other resting on his thigh, unmoved as a mountain. Watching this, Wei Ba felt a surge of satisfaction, though his heart pounded with anxiety—if the enemy were to loose a volley of arrows, they would be in grave danger. He took a shield from one of the guards, nudged his horse forward to join Wei Yan, and was about to hand the shield to him when Wei Yan waved him off. “No need,” he said.

“Father, caution is the better part of valor.”

“Hmph. Even if I lent them courage, they would not dare,” Wei Yan replied with disdain, firmly brushing Wei Ba’s hand aside.

Wei Ba clicked his tongue in resignation, remaining silent but staying alert, ready to raise the shield at the slightest sign of trouble. Unconsciously, cold sweat soaked his back, and he began to regret his boldness. Entering had been easy enough, but leaving safely would be another matter entirely.

Noise erupted again within the camp. The soldiers parted, and Liu Yan—his face still swollen—appeared at the gate, surrounded by fully armed guards. He peered through the thick wooden palisade at the Wei father and son, his expression shifting in the torchlight.

“Wei Yan, do you intend to rebel?” he shouted, his voice as unsteady as the flickering flames. “Do you not know the Prime Minister’s orders are absolute? Do not act rashly!”

Wei Yan replied coolly, “General, what are you saying? I have heard my son acted rudely, twisting your finger and striking you within the Prime Minister’s tent. I am deeply sorry. Therefore, I have brought my son to see you, wishing to understand exactly what transpired. If my son was truly at fault, I shall apologize on his behalf, hand him over to you, and let you deal with him as you see fit.”

Liu Yan hesitated, silent for some time, uncertain whether Wei Yan spoke truth or falsehood. Seeing Wei Ba beside Wei Yan, the pain and swelling in his face seemed to burn hotter, his anger rising. He shouted, “Wei Yan, you have failed to teach your son discipline! He has offended his superiors—what is there to discuss? If you are truly sorry, then right here and now, break his finger and slap him a few times yourself, and perhaps I will let the matter rest. Otherwise, I will not let this go.”

Wei Yan’s voice remained calm. “Rear General, setting aside the question of right or wrong, which is not yet clear, it is too soon to speak of punishment. Even if responsibility lies with my son, it would not be appropriate for me to mete out punishment.”

Liu Yan grew more confused. “Why not?” he demanded.

“The reason is simple. First, it was you, General, whom he struck, not me. If punishment is due, it should be at your hands, to vent your anger. Second, if I were to punish him, you might suspect I’d go easy, just putting on a show—would you not question my sincerity?”

“Then… then what do you propose?” Liu Yan was at a loss. The logic was sound: if he truly wished to vent his anger, he’d want to personally break Wei Ba’s finger and slap him. If left to Wei Yan, it would most likely be a perfunctory performance. But glancing at Wei Yan’s armored form and the shifting shadows in the distance, Liu Yan’s confidence faltered; he feared stepping out of the camp, only to suffer further humiliation at the hands of the Wei family.

As for Fu Xing, Liu Yan reasoned that Wei Yan was likely unaware. He had sent Fu Xing to the logistics camp to die, knowing it was under the supervision of Yang Yi, Wei Yan’s rival. Wei Ba had clashed with Yang Yi earlier that day; Yang Yi would never aid the Wei family. Even if they learned of Fu Xing’s whereabouts, rescuing him would be impossible.

Could it be that Wei Yan truly came to apologize? Liu Yan wavered.

Wei Yan, sharp-eyed, saw the hesitation and laughed heartily, raising his right hand. At his signal, a dozen mounted men formed a line and advanced slowly toward the gate, their figures clearly illuminated by torchlight. “Rear General, do not be alarmed—these are but a few attendants. I come to make peace, not to fight. If you will not invite me in, so be it. Surely you are not afraid to come out and speak with just a handful of men?”

When Liu Yan saw that Wei Yan indeed brought only a small retinue, he was reassured. Although Wei Yan had long dominated Hanzhong as General Who Pacifies the North, the Prime Minister was now present; Wei Yan’s authority was diminished. This was the Prime Minister’s own central camp—Wei Yan would not dare act recklessly. For Liu Yan to cower inside would be shameful, so, cautioning his guards to be vigilant, he ordered the gates opened.

With a creak, the gates swung wide. Liu Yan stepped out cautiously, stopping just a few paces from the entrance, ready to withdraw at the first sign of danger. Summoning his courage, he called out, “Wei Yan, I am here. Hand over your son for punishment.”

Wei Yan dismounted and signaled to Wei Ba, who, though reluctant, could only obey. They approached Liu Yan together, Wei Ba acutely aware of the archers behind Liu Yan, their bowstrings taut. One misstep, and it could all end here. Cold sweat broke out on his brow, glistening in the torchlight.

Liu Yan saw the fear and felt a surge of satisfaction. Clenching his jaw—pain flaring in his swollen cheek—his anger mounted. He took a horsewhip from his guard, snapped it sharply, and strode forward, his heart filled with grim delight.

“Wretched cur, did you ever imagine this day would come?” Each word seemed forced through gritted teeth as Liu Yan raised the whip high, ready to bring it down upon Wei Ba’s head. Wei Ba’s eyes narrowed as he prepared to retaliate, but at that instant, Wei Yan stepped forward, seized Liu Yan’s wrist, and held him fast.

Startled and pale, Liu Yan wrenched at his arm, shrieking, “Wei Yan, what are you doing? One false move and I’ll have you killed!”

Wei Yan gripped his wrist firmly, smiling faintly. “Rear General, aren’t you being a bit hasty? My son and I are right here—there’s no need to rush. Before you punish him, shouldn’t we clarify the matter?”

Struggling, Liu Yan raised his heavily bandaged hand and pointed to his swollen, pig-like face, bellowing, “What is there to clarify? Your son defied his superior, broke my finger, and slapped me! Is that not plain enough?”

“I have long known he struck you,” Wei Yan replied, giving a slight tug that sent Liu Yan stumbling into his arms. Wei Yan then pushed him forward, using him as a shield before the archers pouring from the camp, his tone icy. “What I wish to ask is, why did my son strike you? Was it justified?”

Now realizing he had fallen into another trap, Liu Yan was terrified. He had no time to discuss right or wrong, only struggling desperately, shouting in a strained, fierce voice, “Wei Yan, how dare you defy your superior and lay hands on me? If the Prime Minister hears of this, you will be punished by military law!”

“To injure a subordinate without cause and deny him medical care—that is what military law forbids,” Wei Yan retorted, his face darkening. Without further words, he seized Liu Yan by the neck with one arm, shielded Wei Ba with the other, and strode backward. The archers, seeing their commander taken hostage, were aghast and gave chase, but Wei Yan wheeled around and barked, “Stop! One step closer and I’ll snap his neck!”

At once, the archers halted. As Liu Yan’s personal guards, they knew that should he die, military law demanded their own execution. Though this was not a battlefield, they knew well what Wei Yan was capable of. If he dared seize the Rear General, what would stop him from killing him?

The archers exchanged uneasy glances, not daring to move. A quick-witted officer immediately sent word to the central command, requesting that Chancellor Zhuge personally intervene. This was beyond their capacity to resolve.

Wei Yan paid them no heed. Dragging Liu Yan, he retreated to a safe distance, mounted his horse, slung Liu Yan across the saddle, and rode off at speed. Wei Ba followed closely, but though they had escaped the archers’ threat, he felt no relief. His father’s decisiveness and military bearing were remarkable—he had, in full view of all, taken the illustrious Rear General hostage. The situation had escalated beyond Wei Ba’s ability to control.

Wei Yan, however, was unfazed. With his guards, he galloped straight to the logistics camp, still dragging Liu Yan along. Led by the maidservant, they headed straight for Fu Xing’s tent. As they approached, Wei Ba was startled—the atmosphere here was tenser by far than in Liu Yan’s camp. Hundreds of fully armored soldiers ringed the tent in an impenetrable barrier, with Wei Feng barely visible in their midst.

Yang Yi sat calmly on a folding chair, unfazed even as Wei Yan and his men approached. Only when he saw the battered figure Wei Yan dragged did a flicker of surprise cross his face, though he remained seated, only straightening slightly.

Wei Yan sneered, and with a light push, sent Liu Yan staggering forward until he came to a halt before Yang Yi. Yang Yi scrutinized him, frowning, about to speak when Wei Yan interrupted.

“Adjutant Yang, you certainly put on airs. Even if you disregard me, the General Who Pacifies the North, to remain seated before the Rear General—have you no sense of rank or propriety? With a kinsman like you, the Yang family’s virtue is truly lamentable.”

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