The night had grown deep.
Nevertheless, the cavalry’s hooves thundered on, their speed undiminished.
This cavalry unit, forming the foundation of Zheng Fan’s rise, was extravagantly equipped from the start, surpassing even the Northern Army in certain aspects.
Two horses per man was standard, ensuring long-lasting mobility for the unit.
More than a hundred years ago, during the war between the Desert Barbarians and Yan State, the Desert Barbarians’ cavalry had leveraged this advantage to set the seven counties of the Yan region ablaze.
Now, the Desert Barbarians were not as formidable. However, strictly speaking, this unit of Barbarian cavalry had already surpassed the limitations of their ancestors.
The Desert Barbarians had never truly defeated Yan State. Yet now, they had crossed Yan State and arrived in the lands of Qian State.
This, in itself, was a historic breakthrough.
"My Lord, which is our ultimate target?"
"I do not know. Let’s continue southward and see!"
Along the way, they had spotted a few forts from a distance, but Zheng Fan had no intention of probing them. They simply kept their distance, skirting around them. Those forts never detected the cavalry troop tearing through the night.
Having learned their lesson from the previous fort, Zheng Fan truly didn’t want to go "scaring himself" in the dead of night again. Nor did he want to indulge in another bout of surprise attack after successfully capturing the first one.
Finally, a city came into sight.
Zheng Fan raised his hand, and all the cavalrymen pulled their reins in unison.
"Send out the scouts."
Dozens of Barbarian cavalrymen proactively fanned out to scout the surroundings.
Zheng Fan dismounted, standing on a slope, gazing at the city ahead.
The city was not very large, considerably smaller than Hutou City.
But it was a city nonetheless; those stockades and forts were simply incomparable. Furthermore, situated near the border, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to call it a "key military town." This update is available on N()velFire.net
Zheng Fan pulled the stopper from his waterskin and took several large gulps.
Liang Cheng stood beside Zheng Fan. When Zheng Fan passed the waterskin to him, he accepted it. However, he didn’t see Zheng Fan make any move to wash his hands.
"Aren’t you thirsty?" Zheng Fan asked.
"I haven’t seen you eat anything either."
"You and A Ming are both easy to care for."
Zheng Fan smiled, pointed towards the city ahead, and said, "You have good eyes. Take a look, are the city gates over there still open?"
"The city gates are indeed open," Liang Cheng affirmed.
At the city gate, it seemed several convoys were moving in and out, the area brightly lit by rows of torches.
And outside the city walls, one could see an area of "shantytowns," some consisting of nothing more than the simplest tents, like a slum clinging to the city’s edge.
"What do you think? Is it possible?" Zheng Fan looked at Liang Cheng and asked.
"We only have four hundred men."
"Li Yunlong dared to attack Ping’an County Town with only one regiment."
Zheng Fan extended his hand as if to stroke Liang Cheng’s chin, hesitated for a moment, then placed it on Liang Cheng’s shoulder instead. He gave it a squeeze and said, "As if you’re not the same."
"If My Lord wishes to try, this subordinate can lead the charge."
"No, I, this ’deadweight,’ can’t just stay behind and watch. If we’re going to play, we play together. If it’s over, we end it together."
"It’s too dangerous, and too rash."
"Are you saying that sincerely or insincerely?"
"The city gates are unbarred so late into the night, and it’s so lively outside. If we don’t try to charge it, this subordinate would truly feel a bit unwilling."
"After we eliminated that fort, we headed south through its defense zone without encountering a single soldier to stop us. Yan State has let its forts fall into disuse. Our Green Willow Fortress was converted to a chicken farm. Some forts even had their bricks taken by local households to build pigsties. Here in Qian State, the forts are indeed still standing, but it’s hard to see any difference between having them and not. A Cheng, have we become too arrogant?"
"My Lord, we are still being cautious."
"Yes, we haven’t become arrogant. It’s the Qian people who have given us too much confidence."
Beneath the north gate of Mianzhou City, lamps burned brightly. Cartload after cartload of goods was being transported out of the city, while batches of goods were being brought in.
Several Qian State merchant houses were waiting at the city gate, with their foremen urging the laborers to pick up the pace and work more nimbly.
Occasionally, the foremen’s eyes would meet, and they could see the provocation and resentment in each other’s gazes.
On such a cold night, they should have been able to finish moving their goods (in or out) quickly. Who knew that tonight, as luck would have it, several firms’ convoys would run into each other.
The city gate was only so wide. With some wanting in and others wanting out, it naturally got congested. Most importantly, Mianzhou City only had so many laborers. If one firm hired more, another would have fewer to use. Yet, no one was willing to yield an inch. After all, the foremen in charge of the convoys represented their masters’ prestige when out and about. How could they simply give way?
As for these bustling laborers, if one looked closely, some wore padded winter clothes issued by the Qian State army.
"Father, it’s cold. Why are you still standing out here?"
An old man with graying hair and beard, clad in a thin robe, stood on the city tower. Below him was a scene of noisy activity.
The middle-aged man approached, undid his own cloak, and draped it over the old man.
The old man shivered, and the cloak fell to the ground.
"I, your father, may be old, and my vital energy may not be as vigorous as before, but I am still an Eighth Rank Martial Cultivator! This paltry cold is nothing to me!"
The middle-aged man picked up the cloak again, held it with both hands, and forcibly draped it over the old man, saying, "Your son understands, your son understands. But this is also a token of your son’s filial piety, isn’t it? With my own father freezing out here, how could your son’s heart be at ease?"
"Then what about these soldiers below?"
The old man pointed to the laborers below, busy hauling goods, his voice trembling slightly. "Are they cold? Are they hungry? Are they tired? They are soldiers of Qian’s border army! Border soldiers are meant to wield blades, not to be used as coolies!"
"Oh, my dear father, can you please stop being so stubborn? In this region, which garrison doesn’t operate ?"
"Do you feel that having a father like me has wronged you?"
"Wronged? How could I? You are my own father, and I am your son. How could there be any talk of being wronged?"
"Then there is resentment?"
"Tsk. A father knows his son best. There is indeed a little. You’ve been an Eighth Rank Martial Cultivator for years and an old veteran in the army. When your son was young, I thought that with you, my old man, backing me, I wouldn’t have to worry for this lifetime. Who knew that you’d keep submitting memoranda and reporting to superiors, causing your own official position to drop year after year.
"A perfectly good Regiment Commander, demoted all the way down to Patrol Captain of Mianzhou City. Father, oh, you truly are my own father.
"However, just this evening, your son dined with the Prefect. The Prefect said that if you, old sir, would just soften your stance and admit a mistake, some of the Missed against you could be cleared. Returning to your original post is impossible, but you could be promoted a little before retiring. That way, when your son takes over, my position would also be more comfortable."
"You came to find me just for this?"
"If you say so, then yes."
"You want your old man to be a son to those damn civil officials?"
"Father, you’ve actually hit the nail on the head. Isn’t your son always acting like a grandson in front of the Prefect? By that seniority, it’s just about right for you."
The old man began to laugh.
The middle-aged man also began to laugh.
"Son, Father knows. It’s Father who has let you down."
"Why are you saying such things again?"
"Father isn’t unaware of the need to plan for the family, for the descendants. But... I can’t bring myself to do it!"
The old man lowered his head, glancing at the long spear he had placed by his feet.
"Alright, I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to say the Yan people might be coming south, that our Qian border army can’t go on in this muddle-headed state. But to be honest, Father, in your entire life, have you ever actually fought the Yan people?
"You haven’t, have you?
"It’s been nearly a hundred years, and we haven’t seen hide nor hair of those Yan people. Your son knows, Father, that you see yourself getting on in years, yet your martial skills and strategic mind have never been put to use. You feel indignant, but..."
The old man suddenly turned his face to look at his son and said very seriously, "There has been no news from the Desert Barbarians for a long time now."
"So what about that..."
"This means the Desert Barbarians are finding it increasingly difficult to tie down the Yan people. Once the Yan people no longer face pressure from the north, what will they do?"
"Father, these are matters for the various ministers and His Majesty at court to consider. What use is there in us worrying about them?"
"His Majesty doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand how rotten our border army here has become. Most of the ministers don’t understand either. Even the few who do, pretend not to.
"Look, look! I am now the Patrol Captain of Mianzhou City, but how many men can I actually command? These garrison soldiers of Mianzhou City are not only used as coolies by various military leaders and the Prefect; even their barracks within the city were torn down to make warehouses! Instead, all these soldiers have been driven outside the city to live in tents!
"An army , can it fight? What kind of war can it possibly fight?"
"Father, please rest assured a hundred times over. The Yan people won’t come. The Yan people are busy doing business with us; where would they find the spare effort to fight a war? See? It’s so bustling down there.
"Two of those convoys just returned today from the Yan region with goods, and another two are about to transport goods out of the city to the Yan region. There’s money to be made, good days to be had; why fight?
"Do you take those Yan and Barbarians for fools?"
"Others would definitely think us fools."
Zheng Fan, already astride his horse, said to Liang Cheng, who rode beside him.
To attack a key border town with only four hundred cavalry—if one wasn’t a fool, they truly wouldn’t do such a thing.
"My Lord, it doesn’t matter how others see us. What matters is how we see ourselves."
"Actually, I also think I’m quite foolish. Giving up comfortable, good days, yet wholeheartedly thinking of pursuing some excitement. Tell me, if during the charge on the gate later, some master archer on the city tower puts an arrow through my heart, wouldn’t I have suffered a terrible loss?"
"As long as you’re happy."
"Sigh, I’ve been corrupted by you all. As they say, he who touches pitch shall be defiled therewith."
"We were designed by you."
"It should be called ’if the upper beam is not straight, the lower ones will go aslant.’"
"You’re getting more and more impudent."
"That’s called ’drawing near to cinnabar makes one red.’"
Zheng Fan lowered the faceguard of his helmet, which he had specifically requested to be added.
At the same time, he raised the saber in his hand and yelled in the Barbarian tongue, "I forbid you from touching the women, but today, in this city, I permit you to have your fill of meat and wine!"
All the Barbarian soldiers, following Zheng Fan’s lead, raised their weapons.
Zheng Fan slashed his saber forward!
Zheng Fan was momentarily struck dumb.
"Which idiot taught them ’ULA’?!" he roared.