Chapter Thirty-Three: Journey to Suzhou

With a heavy thud, the lump of dark iron shattered into several pieces upon hitting the ground.

Gan Ying dared not look at Meng Di’s sullen face, silently protesting his innocence: “I knew it would turn out this way.”

After more than half a month of relentless labor by nearly a thousand prisoners, all they had produced was this heap of unusable iron. Meng Di’s displeasure was only natural.

Old Jing, seeing that no one else dared speak, stepped forward with the authority of age and gently advised, “My lord, perhaps we should try refining copper first?”

Meng Di understood what everyone was thinking, but he was unwilling to give up so easily, frowning in silence.

For several days, a gloom settled over the lord’s residence. Everyone knew the lord was in a foul mood—even Qiu’er dared not raise her voice.

Gan Ying was especially dejected, blaming himself for not having been more persuasive beforehand.

After much pondering, he finally came up with an idea. When Meng Di visited the valley again, Gan Ying approached him cautiously and said, “My lord, I have a clansman named Gan Jiang, who is now in the State of Wu. His forging techniques are truly extraordinary—perhaps he could produce far superior ironwork.”

“Gan Jiang and Mo Ye!” Meng Di’s eyes lit up.

“My lord, you know my clansman?” Gan Ying was astonished.

“Of course I do! Ha! Well done, Gan Ying—you’ve rendered a service.”

Meng Di clapped him on the shoulder and left in high spirits.

Gan Ying was left bewildered. After producing all this scrap iron, how had he managed to earn any merit? Did the lord truly have such faith in Gan Jiang?

Indeed, he did. In a former life, Meng Di had loved tales of legendary blades, and who hadn’t heard of the peerless swords Gan Jiang and Mo Ye? Even if made of bronze, they would far surpass the ordinary.

Sweeping away the gloom of recent days, Meng Di joked with Su’er on the way back to the city: “Train the soldiers well, and I’ll have a peerless sword made for you.”

Su’er glanced calmly at her hands and replied lightly, “I use a bamboo sword.”

“Uh… very well…” Meng Di was left speechless.

The rest of the group could only exchange helpless glances.

Once back in the city, Meng Di gathered his people for a council.

The attempt at iron smelting had made him realize that governing a territory was far from simple.

In his previous life, he was but a warrior—at best, a capable general, but hardly a statesman.

The territory lacked everything, but what it lacked most was talent.

Compared to those around him, his greatest advantage was the insight and experience gained from centuries of history.

When word spread that the lord intended to travel, most tried to dissuade him—except Old Jing, who gave vigorous support. Yue was already remote, and their fief was seen as a barbarian outpost. Developing on their own would be no easy task.

“Well said,” Meng Di decided at once.

Han Qu was appointed acting lord, assisted by Old Jing in administering the territory.

Jing Che and Ji were put in charge of fishing and farming, respectively.

The prisoners, for the time being, would be led by Gan Ying to mine and smelt bronze. Until better craftsmen were found, bronze wares would suffice for both the territory’s needs and for trade.

The First Division was split in two: Han Zhan led the left half to oversee the prisoners, while Xiao Wu and Xiao Liu led the right half to garrison Gumei City. After annexing the Li tribe, the neighboring Fan and Jian Yue tribes had fled deep into the mountains, too terrified to descend and cause trouble. The territory was secure for now and could develop in peace.

Buoyed by the breeze of spring and a light heart, Meng Di set out eastward with Su’er and two veteran soldiers he’d brought from Chu—four riders in all.

King Helu of Wu was furious.

In the palace of Yingdu, the sword in Helu’s hand dripped fresh blood; several heads had already rolled.

His own younger brother, the great general Fugai, had secretly returned to Wu and declared himself king.

The past half-year had brought Helu his greatest triumphs—he had routed the vast State of Chu, winning battle after battle.

Now, occupying the Chu king’s palace, enjoying the company of its queen and concubines day and night, Helu’s ambition had grown boundless.

If he could devour all of Chu, Wu would become a colossus among the lords of the land, and entry into the Central Plains would be within reach.

But all this had turned to a seething rage, tinged with dread.

His own claim to the throne was illegitimate, gained by assassinating King Liao of Wu. Thus, he was ever wary of imitators. Save for sleep, he always wore armor beneath his clothes; anyone approaching with a blade within several paces faced immediate death.

Despite all his precautions, he had still been stabbed in the back by his own brother.

“Fugai!” Helu ground out the name between clenched teeth.

“My lord, we must act swiftly,” said Wu Zixu. Only he dared speak out, and only his words could reach Helu.

“Where is the Qin army now?” Helu had not trusted Fugai completely, but Fugai’s prestige in the army was too great to move against him easily. Sending him to the northwest was a calculated risk—if the Qin army invaded Chu, perhaps they could fight the tiger and the wolf, both suffering losses.

Unexpectedly, Fugai outmaneuvered him, quietly withdrawing troops to return to Wu, leaving Helu’s army caught between enemies, unable to defend both front and rear.

“My lord, Zi Pu and Zi Hu lead five hundred chariots and have reached Yi City.”

Qin’s swift intervention to aid Chu took Wu’s court by surprise.

There were endless disputes between Qin and Jin, and war loomed. The road from Qin to Chu was long and perilous, with the formidable Shangluo Mountains in between—what kind of favor could compel Qin to risk Jin’s attack to send troops so far?

Helu was unaware that a Chu minister named Shen Baoxu had wept day and night outside the Qin court for seven days and nights, moving Duke Ai of Qin to respond. He even composed a poem for the occasion: “How can it be said we have no clothes? I will share my robes with you. The king raises his army; I will mend my spear and shield, and join you in seeking vengeance!”

As his anger ebbed, Helu slowly regained his composure and looked around at the assembled lords.

Once again, Wu Zixu advised immediate withdrawal to Wu. Ever since opening King Ping of Chu’s tomb and flogging the corpse, he had felt the vengeance was served and had long wanted to persuade Helu to withdraw. After all, as a Chu native, watching Wu troops pillage and burn weighed on his conscience.

“Are we to retreat just because of a mere five hundred chariots from Qin?” Helu was reluctant.

“My lord, the Chu king is rallying his scattered troops in Sui, already numbering tens of thousands. The minister Zi Xi is well versed in warfare and appears ready to act,” Sun Wu interjected.

Wu Zixu flushed with embarrassment. He had once believed an envoy sent to Sui, urging Helu to attack Zheng, only to discover he’d been deceived. The envoy lost his head, but the Chu king gained precious time to recover—and now, Wu was in a bind.

Ultimately, Helu was loathe to withdraw just yet; to flee before the Qin army even arrived would ruin Wu’s standing.

Of all this, Meng Di and his companions knew nothing. In the waning spring of the southern lands, the trees were blossoming, grasses grew tall, and orioles flitted through the air. With beauty at his side, Meng Di felt life was in perfect harmony. Though Su’er was not especially perceptive, her presence was always a pleasure.

Their horses’ hoofbeats were light as they pressed on toward Gusu, the winding rivers and mountains along the way making the journey feel like a leisurely excursion.