Chapter Five: The Traitor

Archery is not a skill to be mastered in a single day.

Though every one of them was sore all over, the exhilaration of riding on horseback, brandishing bows and arrows, was incomparable. Especially Little Five and Little Six, who spurred their horses to gallop back and forth, shouting and whistling, raising their bows and drawing their strings as if ready to shoot at any moment.

Gan Ying and the others watched their display with a mixture of excitement and envy, carefully controlling their own mounts with pained expressions.

It was now the morning of the second day.

After a day spent practicing horsemanship and archery, Meng Di, seeing that everyone’s movements were now somewhat competent, decided to proceed as planned.

Upon hearing that the great army of Wu had already marched south, the foot soldiers were naturally overjoyed—there would be no more need for hiding and evasion.

Yet Mo Cheng could not conceal his worry, urging them repeatedly to depart early. Though his bones had set, he still could not ride alone, and so he was secured behind Peng Ji, the two sharing a horse and proceeding slowly.

They made frequent stops, giving Meng Di the opportunity to instruct them further in riding and archery. To the others, it felt much like a winter hunt, and they even brought in a respectable haul of wild pheasants and mountain hares.

At last, they reached the banks of the Huai River. By then, Mo Cheng could restrain himself no longer and said to Meng Di, “Brother Meng, Lord Dou Xin’s camp is just upstream on the Huai. The situation is urgent—why don’t you hurry ahead to report?”

Meng Di glanced at the group, saw that none objected, and agreed. Riding along the riverbank upstream, he soon, at dusk, caught sight of a large camp built beside the water.

A scout soon approached and, after learning the situation, led Meng Di into the camp.

Within the command tent sat a tall general, a cold smile at the corner of his mouth, idly toying with Mo Cheng’s longbow as he languidly asked, “You’re saying the Wu army has marched south toward Yingdu?”

“That’s correct. I saw it with my own eyes.”

“Nonsense! The Wu army is a navy, advancing along the Huai in full force. Why would they suddenly abandon their boats, come ashore, and turn to attack our capital?”

“What’s more, the road to Yingdu is mountainous and treacherous, filled with natural barriers. Is the Wu army not afraid of having their retreat cut off and being trapped?”

“We witnessed this ourselves. General Mo Cheng sent me ahead to report to Lord Dou Xin. May I ask if you are Lord Dou Xin?”

“Hmph, Mo Cheng? He only stands beside me due to the merit of his ancestors—otherwise, how could he be my equal? Now, who knows if he is even alive.”

“If you doubt me, send a swift rider to fetch Mo Cheng, or go and see the Wu camp for yourself.”

The general tossed the bow onto the table. “Very well. Another question: you claim to be a foot soldier under Wu Hei. Where are you from, and what is your trade?”

At this, Meng Di was speechless—not out of reluctance, but simply because he did not know. In these days, he had gradually realized that he had come to another world, one with no Han Dynasty.

The general burst into raucous laughter. “Men! Hang this impostor and spy outside the tent! I’ll interrogate him myself.”

At his words, two guards rushed in and closed in from both sides.

Meng Di rolled forward, lunging straight for the general. The man reacted quickly, snatching up the precious sword lying on the table and sweeping it toward him.

The blade slashed Meng Di’s left arm, blood spurting forth. He grunted, sprang up, and thrust a feathered arrow, its tip glittering coldly, at the general’s throat.

The general had not expected Meng Di’s boldness, that he would dare to attack so suddenly, and in his carelessness was taken captive.

The guards, wary of hitting their own commander, were forced to back away as Meng Di pressed his advantage, driving the group outside the tent where a ring of sentries with long spears closed in.

The general’s face turned crimson, but he held his head high and shouted, “Release me, and your life will be spared!”

By now, Meng Di had slung his bow over his back and was scanning the crowd, seeing soldiers converging from all sides.

“Horses. Prepare a horse for me.”

“In your dreams. Even if you had a horse, you could not escape.”

“That’s not your concern. Quickly—order a horse.”

“I am a dignified general of Chu. I will not be taken hostage by you.”

Meng Di pressed the arrowhead harder against the man’s neck, drawing blood.

But the general was fearless, shouting to his soldiers, “Hear me! Advance and seize the spy—I care not for my own life!”

Seeing their hesitation, he roared, “Disobey and you will be executed!”

Inside the command tent, a middle-aged man with a long beard sat reading a scroll. Hearing the commotion outside, he frowned.

“Report!”

“What’s the matter?”

“A spy is holding General Bai Bing hostage.”

“Oh?” The man looked up in surprise—it was none other than Lord Dou Xin, commander of these three hundred chariots.

“Let’s see what kind of spy has such nerve.”

Dou Xin arrived just as the soldiers were at an impasse, the situation already reported to him.

He called out loudly, “Stop! I am Dou Xin.”

Bai Bing, seeing Dou Xin approach, flushed even deeper, unable to raise his head. That a commander of a hundred chariots should be taken hostage by a spy was a humiliation he would never live down.

Dou Xin regarded Meng Di with gentle eyes. “Release General Bai, bandage your wound, and come to my tent to speak. The rest of you, withdraw.”

With that, he strode away, hands clasped behind his back.

Meng Di obeyed, letting go of Bai Bing and withdrawing the arrow.

Once free, Bai Bing leapt back and drew his short sword, ready to order Meng Di seized.

Without turning, Dou Xin said coldly, “Did you not hear my order?”

Bai Bing stopped, glaring at Meng Di in shame and fury.

Meng Di seemed not to notice, merely smiling faintly as he strode toward Dou Xin. Bai Bing, sword in hand, followed behind, seething.

Within the tent, Meng Di repeated what he had said earlier. Dou Xin listened, silent and pensive.

“My lord, this spy is treacherous. You must not be deceived.”

“Oh? Why do you say so?”

“The Wu army advances in force to aid Cai. The two nations have always fought openly, sending envoys and displaying their banners. Why would they resort to a sneak attack?”

“Wu has long dwelled in remote lands, and their ways in war are unscrupulous. We must be on our guard.”

“But even so, for Wu to give up their naval advantage and send chariots and foot soldiers over mountains and valleys for hundreds of miles—wouldn’t that be suicide?”

“That is true—the route is filled with impassable barriers, and it would be difficult for Wu to traverse them in haste, unless…”

“Unless they had already planted agents along the way,” Meng Di interjected.

“Exactly,” Dou Xin’s eyes lit up.

Bai Bing sneered. “All this is just your word. If you are but a common foot soldier, how would you know such things? Not to mention your far-fetched tale of single-handedly defeating Wu chariots and seizing horses!”

“And besides, you are clearly not from Chu!”

Dou Xin fell silent, stroking his beard, unable to decide.

After a long pause, he finally ordered, “Send light chariots to fetch General Mo Cheng, and dispatch more scouts to gather news of the Wu army. I will go at once to see Lord Shen, the Left Sima.”

“My lord, you must not! If this is a ruse, would you not be reporting false intelligence to Lord Shen?”

Dou Xin sighed. “I have long suspected something amiss. The Wu army, though menacing, has avoided direct battle, as if seeking to tie us down here. If this is a feint, it makes sense.”

Meng Di was placed under guard—not as a prisoner, but heavily watched by the soldiers.

Since arriving in this world, he had been constantly on the run. Now, at last, in a place both safe and comfortable, Meng Di cared little for anything else and fell into a deep sleep.

Bai Bing, upon hearing this, was so enraged that he ground his teeth and smashed the desk to pieces with his sword.

By this time, the Wu vanguard, numbering several thousand, had already crossed the rugged mountains, their blades pointed straight at the Han River, capturing fortresses and cities as if no one stood in their way.

And so Meng Di’s offhand remark proved true: Wu had plotted against Yingdu for many years, long since planting agents at every pass. When their army arrived, these agents worked from within, allowing the Wu to seize strongholds with ease.

The rulers of Chu, certain that the northern mountains formed an impenetrable barrier, believed themselves safe and secure—never suspecting that, to the Wu army, the way was as open as a thoroughfare.