Chapter 041: First Glimpse into the Path

Chapter 041: A First Glimpse of the Path

Cheng An was busy at his desk when he saw Wei Ba approach. He was somewhat surprised. After hearing Wei Ba’s reason for coming, he set down his brush, straightened his back, and gently knocked his knuckles together in thought. After a moment of silence, he smiled and said, “How could my Cheng family dare claim to be one of the Four Great Families of Hanzhong? Young General, don’t put stock in the idle talk of that little girl.”

“You are too modest, sir,” Wei Ba replied. “I would be grateful for your guidance.”

Cheng An waved his hand, signaling for someone to bring a mat for Wei Ba to sit on, and invited him to take a seat. He also sent over some wine, but Wei Ba, unaccustomed to drinking wine as if it were water—even if the wine was weak—asked for some water instead. When all was ready and the attendants had withdrawn, Cheng An began to speak in his unhurried manner.

“Young General, though strategy and power sound profound, in essence, they are quite simple. ‘Power’ is about weighing and balancing—no more than a comparison of gain and loss, seeking benefit and avoiding harm, and taking precautions before disaster strikes. Naturally, the skills involved depend on the wisdom of each individual. Let me give you a simple example. Faced with a sheep, a wolf may act fierce and do as it pleases. But if a tiger appears, what do you think the wolf will do?”

“It would run away, of course.”

“Exactly. And why does it run? The reason is simple: the wolf knows it’s no match for the tiger. Running away means losing a meal, but staying could mean not just losing the sheep, but becoming the tiger’s prey. Compared to losing its life, the loss of a meal is nothing. That’s why the wolf flees.”

Cheng An watched Wei Ba without revealing his thoughts. “No fight actually took place, but the wolf judged the difference in strength and chose to retreat, thus saving its life. The decision wasn’t hard. But what if it’s a tiger cub, not nearly as strong as a full-grown tiger, and the wolf thinks it might still win? What then? That’s where real judgment comes in.”

Wei Ba pondered for a long while before nodding slightly. “You speak the truth, sir. Accurately assessing an opponent’s strength is indeed an art.”

“Just so.” Cheng An laughed, picking up his brush again and opening a ledger. “Young General, you’ve already glimpsed the path. There’s nothing more this old man can teach you.”

Wei Ba said nothing. He knew Cheng An did not mean he had nothing to teach; rather, he was unwilling to do so, or at least not yet. Perhaps Cheng An was waiting to see how he acted, to decide whether he was worth teaching. Or perhaps he simply did not want to become too deeply entangled in this vortex, choosing instead to protect himself. In Hanzhong, the Wei family were powerful outsiders, but the Cheng family were local fixtures. The Wei family could leave at any time, but the Cheng family had to survive here, generation after generation. They would not rashly tie themselves to their superior, especially with Wei Yan’s notorious temperament.

“Thank you, sir.” Wei Ba rose, bowed once more, and took his leave. Outside the tent, he gathered Dun Wu and the others and departed. Cheng An continued to write, brush gliding stroke by stroke across the paper, occasionally pausing to work the abacus. After some time, the scribe Zhao Su entered, smiling. “Lord Cheng, Wei Ba has gone.”

Cheng An grunted in acknowledgment, not even looking up.

Zhao Su, long familiar with Cheng An, sat down where Wei Ba had just been, picked up the cup of water Wei Ba had used, and sniffed it in surprise. “So that boy drinks water?”

“He doesn’t care for wine.” Cheng An glanced up at Zhao Su. “What, getting impatient?”

Zhao Su sighed. “It’s not me who’s impatient. You know I care little for these matters. But my old man at home is displeased. The Chancellor has been in Hanzhong so long, yet hasn’t even sent a token envoy to greet us. It’s truly disappointing.”

Cheng An snorted. “Seems your father is growing restless from too much quiet.”

“It’s not just my father. The other families are the same—sitting at home all proper, refusing to take the initiative, yet longing for the Chancellor to invite them, until their eyes are blurry and crusted from waiting.” Zhao Su smacked his lips, his expression dramatic.

Cheng An couldn’t help but laugh. “You speak of your own father like that—aren’t you afraid he’ll break your legs with a cane?”

“I’m only telling the truth.”

Cheng An paused, setting down his brush and clasping his hands together. “If you ask me, you’d best persuade your father to give up on this idea.”

“Why?” Zhao Su asked in surprise. “Has the Chancellor decided not to let us from Yizhou rise? Yizhou belongs to its own people, not to the men from Jing and Xiang.”

“The Chancellor is no simple man. His methods… heh, he’s not just ruthless to us locals—he shows no favor to the men from Jing and Xiang either. Liao Li has already been dismissed, and Li Yan has left Yong’an. It looks like promotion, but in truth, it’s sending a tiger away from the mountain—he just doesn’t realize it yet. As for us Yizhou men, look at those few in court—how many really hold power? Even Yang Jixiu is no exception. And you still hope to rise?”

Zhao Su’s playful look vanished, replaced by seriousness. After thinking for a moment, he exclaimed, “Then you mean…the Wei family?”

“Them?” Cheng An sneered contemptuously. “You can’t carve rotten wood, nor plaster a wall of dung. Best keep your distance, lest you get burned.”

“Then why do you maintain such close contact with Wei Ba?” Zhao Su grinned.

“I don’t seek him out; he seeks me.” Cheng An frowned, deep in thought. “He now has a maidservant who knows about the Four Great Families of Hanzhong. That’s peculiar. Zhao Su, see if you can learn who this maidservant is.”

Zhao Su nodded, asking no more.

…

Wei Ba returned to the main tent. Wei Yan was inside, sweat streaming down his face, yet he had not removed his armor—only his helmet, which he wiped with a cloth. In his previous life as a soldier, hardship was measured by sweat stains on one’s clothes, but compared to the soldiers of this era, that was nothing. Ordinary soldiers wore hide or lamellar armor, which was tolerable, but generals like Wei Yan wore fine scale iron armor—impressive in appearance but torturous to wear. The armor weighed nearly twenty kilograms, and to prevent chafing, they wore thick padded jackets beneath. In winter, that was fine, but in summer, drilling in full gear was pure torment.

“Where have you been?”

Wei Ba hurried forward, took a cloth from a guard, rinsed it in a basin, and helped Wei Yan wipe the sweat from his neck. “I just went to check on Fu Xing, then visited the supply camp, and saw Master Cheng.”

Wei Yan grunted, then asked, “You escorted Ma Su and Zhuge Qiao this morning. Did you talk of anything else?”

Wei Ba thought for a moment, then summarized their conversation. At last he said, “Father, I believe Adviser Ma holds a special place with the Chancellor. When the time comes for the Chancellor to send out troops, he might let him command an army.”

Wei Yan raised an eyebrow and laughed. “You’re only half right. Ma Su’s elder brother, Ma Liang, was the Chancellor’s sworn brother. After Ma Liang died for the country, the Chancellor treats Ma Su well as he ought. Besides, Ma Su hails from the famous Ma family of Xiangyang, and is well reputed and truly talented—far above those petty officials. It is only natural the Chancellor relies on him. But as for letting him command an army alone, that won’t happen. Ma Su is gifted, but he’s never led troops. Following the Chancellor as an adviser is fine, but to suddenly put him in sole command? As you said, the Chancellor is a cautious man—he would never do something so rash.”

Wei Ba had nothing to say—his father’s confidence knew no bounds. Yet, from another perspective, Zhuge Liang’s use of Ma Su was indeed controversial in history; anyone with sense would have doubted it. His father’s judgment was not so unreasonable; at most, it proved how unwise Zhuge Liang’s later decision was.

“Um…from Adviser Ma’s words, it seems he’s somewhat worried about your plan, Father…” Wei Ba chose his words with care. “He fears it’s too risky, and the Chancellor may not approve.”

Wei Yan snorted dismissively. “There you go again. Isn’t that what you think? Why drag Ma Su into it?” As he spoke, he donned his helmet, tightened the straps, and strode for the door. At the entrance, he paused and turned back. “The Ziwu Valley plan is secret. Breathe a word and I’ll hold you solely responsible. Understood?”

Wei Ba was startled, quickly replying, “Father, I would never reveal it.”

Wei Yan nodded and was about to leave when Wei Ba remembered what Fu Xing had said and hurried after him. “Father, when do you think the Chancellor will march? If we delay too long, Cao Wei may be alerted and the risk will only grow.”

Wei Yan frowned, sighing awkwardly. “The Chancellor…is cautious. Preparations will take time. I think, at the earliest, after the autumn harvest. Cao Wei…ah, there’s nothing to be done. After all, he’s a scholar.” He patted Wei Ba’s shoulder. “A longer preparation means we’ll be more ready. Don’t be idle—get familiar with the paperwork. A great battle is coming, and there’s much to prepare. Now that you’re better, don’t overexert yourself.”

Wei Ba felt a warmth in his heart and nodded in agreement. Wei Yan left with great strides. Wei Ba returned to his desk, tidied up, and found himself worrying first about his father’s temperament, then perplexed by Cheng An’s cryptic words. He vaguely understood Cheng An’s meaning—it was about knowing your opponent and not acting rashly. But who was the Wei family’s opponent? Yang Yi, or Chancellor Zhuge himself? And why had Cheng An mentioned Liao Li so pointedly last time?

As he grumbled about Cheng An’s unwillingness to speak plainly, he began reviewing documents about Liao Li’s demotion from a new perspective. He knew that, however elusive the matter, in the end it was up to him to ponder it; others could offer advice, but none could make the decision for him. Placing one’s fate in the hands of another was always dangerous.

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