Chapter 80: Drawn by Mutual Benefit

Wei Ba did not speak. He understood the contradictory feelings Zhao Su was experiencing at that moment. Although Zhao Su was born into a prominent family, he was not someone who craved power; instead, his heart was set on becoming a recluse, a person of the immortals. Assigning him this task, for Wei Ba, was precisely to make use of Zhao Su’s fondness for the Dao; for the Zhao family, it was no more than a move in an idle game, better than nothing. It was the classic wide-net, focused cultivation: if there was a harvest, all the better; if not, the loss was just Zhao Su’s life.

The Zhao family’s greatest characteristic was their extraordinary reproductive ability. Zhao Su’s great-grandfather, Zhao Xuan, had seven sons and five daughters; all seven sons inherited his robust vigor, and by Zhao Su’s generation, he had more than fifty cousins and brothers.

For the Zhao family, the death of one Zhao Su was insignificant; after all, someone like him, obsessed with becoming an immortal, would hardly achieve much in the future. In earlier days, practitioners of the Dao were of some interest—Hanzhong had once been the sanctuary of the Celestial Masters, a peaceful paradise amidst chaos. But ever since Zhang Lu was captured by Cao Cao, that dream had long become a joke. Characters like Zhao Su, stubbornly refusing to wake up, were simply a waste of resources.

So the Zhao family, with little hesitation, agreed to Wei Ba’s proposal. Zhao Su had his objections, but before his grandfather—nearly seventy and still as vigorous as ever—he didn’t even dare utter a word, and could only obey.

“I’m saying, this journey might well be a final farewell. Don’t you have anything to say to me?” Facing imminent death, Zhao Su still couldn’t shake his talkative habit, idly chatting with Wei Ba.

Wei Ba found him tiresome. He put down his pen, crossed his hands over his abdomen, and stared directly at Zhao Su. Seeing Wei Ba finally respond, Zhao Su became excited, making faces—nothing at all like the decorum expected of a noble scion. It made Wei Ba lose his composure, and he could only force a smile and say, “Safe travels.”

Zhao Su nodded repeatedly, looking at Wei Ba with delight. After waiting for a long while with no further words, he was disappointed. “Just those four words?”

“If you feel it’s insufficient, I can sing you a song. There’s no Yi River here, but there is the Mian River.”

“No, please!” Zhao Su shrank his neck, rose, and started to leave. “I don’t want to imitate Jing Ke. If it really comes to that, I’ll hand over all the plans, surrender to Xiahou Mao, and maybe even become a General Guarding the Frontier or something.”

Wei Ba burst out laughing. Zhao Su waved and strode away, as light-hearted as if he were going to a banquet or into the mountains to linger with fellow Daoists—nothing of the tragic hero going to his death. Watching him about to leave through the main gate, Wei Ba suddenly called out, “Gong Pu, wait!”

Zhao Su turned, smiling mischievously. “What is it now? Can’t bear to let me go?”

“Your Zhao family hardly cares about you, so why should I?” Wei Ba joked, pulling out a neatly folded piece of paper from his chest and quickly handing it to Zhao Su. He patted Zhao Su’s hand gently. “A suggestion from a wise man—may it help you.”

“A wise man?” Zhao Su was half skeptical. “What wise man could you possibly have around? It’s always just those few warriors.”

“Don’t underestimate me. There are hidden dragons and crouching tigers by my side—far beyond your imagination.” With that, Wei Ba pushed Zhao Su out the door. Zhao Su was bewildered, but didn’t insist, tucked the paper into his robe, and walked away.

Mi Wei emerged from the inner chamber, brow slightly furrowed. “With such frivolity, can he really succeed?”

“He feigns madness to avoid the world—this is the true…” Wei Ba pulled Mi Wei over to the table and sat down. “If you don’t trust him, surely you can trust me? If the plan fails, you remain unscathed. But for the Wei family, it would mean utter destruction. Just that alone means I dare not be careless, don’t you think?”

Mi Wei smiled silently. “That’s true. My Mi family has nothing left to lose at this point.”

“Well…” Wei Ba chuckled awkwardly, unsure how to comfort Mi Wei. The Mi family had rendered great service to Liu Bei. When Liu Bei was routed in Xuzhou by Lu Bu, if not for the Mi family’s money and manpower, Liu Bei might have disappeared from history altogether—there would be no Emperor Zhaolie. But the Mi family’s fate was tragic: first Mi Lady and two daughters were lost at Changban Slope, then Mi Fang quarreled with Guan Yu, surrendered to Wu, and Mi Zhu soon died of illness. All their investments failed, catastrophically so.

Mi Wei was unwilling to accept defeat; he wanted to rise again. But with the current strength of the Mi family, there was little hope. This time, serving with Zhao Guang in the logistics camp was merely a token assignment for comfort. Mi Wei had little expectation, but when he heard about the Ziwu Valley plan from Yang Wei, he suddenly realized an opportunity had come, and so actively sought out Wei Ba.

Because of their similar interests, Wei Ba accepted him and entrusted the plan Mi Wei had drafted to Zhao Su for execution.

“Oh, right.” Wei Ba turned to pick up an account book from the desk. “Here are the recently delivered one hundred ten thousand bushels of rice. Barring accidents, it’s enough to feed the army for a year. Discuss with Zhongde how best to arrange guards for it. Those mountain folk may not be able to attack directly, but burning grain would be easy enough.”

“I understand. I’ve already discussed it with Zhongde—we won’t take it lightly.” Mi Wei took the account book, weighed it, glanced at Wei Ba, and left. Wei Ba said nothing more. Mi Wei might not be much of a soldier, but Zhao Guang was a cautious man. To rob him of grain was no easy matter.

It must be said, setting aside preconceptions, assigning Zhao Guang to oversee the logistics was a very sound decision by Zhuge Liang.

…

A day later, good news arrived from the front. Fu Xing and Zhang Wei defeated the garrison at Xicheng, killed over a hundred in battle, captured more than two hundred, and about fifty escaped. A triumphant first battle. They had already entered Xicheng, and soon after repelled reinforcements sent by Shen Yi, once again beheading more than fifty.

The news reached Anyang, and Zhuge Qiao was delighted. He shared it with the whole army, and the troops were jubilant, their morale soaring. Many envied Fu Xing and Zhang Wei for their achievements and clamored for the chance to fight, but Zhuge Qiao stopped them.

Zhuge Qiao said, although we have won our first victory, we’ve only faced Shen Yi’s Xicheng troops. If we press too hard and advance too deep, the front line will be stretched, and if Shen Yi and Meng Da cut off our retreat, the pressure will be immense. Our task is to contain them, rely on Hanzhong as our base, conserve our strength, and wait for Meng Da to attack. That way, we ensure absolute security.

The commanders found Zhuge Qiao’s reasoning sound, and said no more. They focused on drilling their troops, eagerly awaiting news of Meng Da’s assault, hoping to earn merit.

Wei Ba knew well that Zhuge Qiao had not come to Anyang intending to reclaim the Eastern Three Counties. He was there to pressure Shen Yi and Meng Da, draw their attention, and perhaps even collude with Meng Da, giving him the opportunity to openly reinforce, repair defenses, and prepare for his eventual defection. Without external pressure, sudden preparations would alert Sima Yi in Wan City. But with Zhuge Qiao’s army at the border, everything proceeded naturally.

Under such circumstances, Zhuge Qiao would never advance rashly. By stopping his army at Anyang, he made his intentions clear—though others were unaware, or pretended not to know, and so clamored to fight.

Wei Ba watched coolly. If history had not changed, then next would be Sima Yi’s dazzling entrance. Sima Yi already had experience leading troops. Last autumn, Sun Quan, taking advantage of Cao Pi’s death and Cao Rui’s recent accession, sent Left General Zhuge Jin with a two-pronged attack on Wei. Zhuge Jin was repelled by Sima Yi, who killed over a thousand. Yet Zhuge Jin was never considered a great general, so the battle carried little weight. Sima Yi’s true fame came from his lightning defeat of Meng Da: from Meng Da’s rebellion to his execution, only twenty-four days passed—a feat of godlike speed.

Wei Ba did not know if history would repeat itself. That affair was only briefly mentioned in the records of the Three Kingdoms, and rarely in Zhuge Liang’s biographies. He was uncertain about the details. He even wondered why, if Zhuge Liang truly planned to turn Meng Da against Sima Yi, it was not more celebrated—perhaps because the plot failed to deliver, and so was glossed over?

If so, it truly was a case of judging by outcomes. In fact, Wei Ba thought the plan to turn Meng Da was not only a way to reclaim the Eastern Three Counties, but also an effective means to restrain Sima Yi in Wan City—a clever strategy. That it ultimately failed was not Zhuge Liang’s fault, but because his opponent, Sima Yi, was too brilliant, like a dark horse disrupting all Zhuge Liang’s plans.

Apart from himself, who would believe Sima Yi capable of such prowess? Not only Shu Han, but even Cao Wei would not expect Sima Yi to be so formidable.

And though Wei Ba knew the outcome and sensed its likelihood, his greatest frustration was that no one would believe him. He might possess foresight, but lacked the reputation of a prophet. For this reason, he candidly revealed his two predictions to Zhuge Qiao. He knew it would make people wary, but he needed to quickly establish his own prestige, so that his voice could be heard and history’s course influenced.

Bold words and startling predictions have always been the fastest route to fame. He had done what needed doing—or was in the process. Now, he just had to wait, wait for the moment, wait for his predictions to become reality.

Just then, Ma Su arrived in Anyang.