Chapter Twenty-Six: Master

The upheaval in the city of Kucha, hundreds of miles away, was beyond the reach of anyone in Little Bolu. Here, everyone was methodically carrying out their preparations for war.

In a corner of the military camp, three men ate aromatic roasted meat unhurriedly, none speaking, each lost in contemplation over the question Liu Ji had raised.

In later times, when he attended the military academy, it was at the critical juncture when China’s new generation of leaders launched the New Silk Road policy. Because of this, he had systematically studied the entire history of the Western Regions and, based on this research, authored several papers. These works eventually caught the attention of the intelligence services, forever altering the course of his life.

How could the Silk Road ever be discussed without mention of the Tang Dynasty?

Now, not only had he become a participant in that very campaign, but the two men beside him were also key figures in its unfolding. That was why he had posed that question—a question tinged with a somewhat unpleasant memory.

The local pinewood they burned released a unique fragrance, its crackling mingling with the heartbeats of all present.

“There’s nothing much to say—defeat is defeat. You know, at first, we planned to assemble our troops at Suyab, but on arrival, found the city already razed by Governor Wang Zhongcheng. There wasn’t a roof left to shelter under, much less any provisions to supply our forces. We had hurried there, and neither the Beiting troops nor the Tianwei reinforcements had arrived. With over thirty thousand men, could we really count on supplies being shipped from Kucha?”

Li Siye’s voice was anxious, his expression uneasy. This was the first time Liu Ji had heard such firsthand accounts, and he was unconsciously absorbed by the tale. Duan Xiushi, however, cast him a curious glance.

“Later, from passing merchants, we learned that the defenses of Talas were lax. We thought to seize it, to establish a foothold. At the time, circumstances left us no choice; we hoped that, even if the facts differed, with our thirty thousand men, there was no reason to lose.”

He did not continue, for what happened next was well known to all present. There were indeed few defenders in Talas, but they were well prepared. The Tang army, exhausted from its long march, lacked any siege engines. By the time the army’s craftsmen had fashioned the necessary equipment, precious time was lost, and enemy reinforcements had arrived.

That territory belonged to the Sogdians, but it was the Arabs who garrisoned the city. This could only mean that the intelligence was deliberately leaked by the enemy, designed to lure the Tang army into an ambush.

Duan Xiushi nodded. “The terrain there is like a basin—beyond the White Stone Ridge, Talas is encircled by mountains, desert, and rivers. The Arab cavalry were heavily armored and ferocious, the Sogdians numerous, gathering over a hundred thousand men. After five days of stalemate, our provisions ran out—we had no choice but to slaughter our horses for food, and then…”

And then came the betrayal of the Karluks, the final straw that broke the camel’s back. Their narrative matched the history Liu Ji knew, though with many more details. He had no intention of analyzing the reasons for their defeat, for such scrutiny would win no praise and might even provoke resentment.

Few people are willing to lay bare their wounds for others to judge, even among close friends.

“So, you both agree—the key to this battle was intelligence, correct?” Once the two nodded, he continued, “As Sun Tzu said, ‘Know your enemy and know yourself, and you will never be defeated.’ The Arabs went to great lengths to lay their snares—why was that?”

Liu Ji paused, his gaze sweeping over the two men. “Because they feared the Tang, or rather, the legendary might of Gao Kaifu.”

This conclusion was hardly surprising. Before Talas, Gao Xianzhi was undefeated—a general who had bested nearly every foe in the Western Regions. When the Arabs resolved to go to war, they must have learned of his reputation from the Sogdians. Indeed, in later histories, Gao Xianzhi would be known as ‘King of the Mountains of China.’

The disparity between both sides’ intelligence capabilities was glaring. At that time, due to earlier campaigns against the Stone Kingdom, all of the Sogdian city-states stood opposed to the Tang. The Sogdian merchants who plied the Silk Road—what attitude could they have held? One could easily imagine that the very merchant who delivered the intelligence was, in fact, part of the Arab plot.

“And now? We’ve become like startled birds—over a mere Bolu, a few thousand Tibetans, we act as if facing a great enemy, sending scouts into hostile lands in desperate missions for intelligence that may not even be reliable.”

The two men looked surprised. Liu Ji shook his head. “Today, Tibet is like the Arabs were last year—they fear the Tang army, and must resort to tricks to mislead us. Whether through supposed spies in our midst, or by seeking to assassinate the two of you, their goal is singular.”

“To provoke us into launching a reckless assault.”

This reasoning should have been presented at the time of issuing orders, but Duan Xiushi had already heard Yang Yu’s report and expected it to be repeated. He did not anticipate that Liu Ji would form his own conclusions.

“So, you mean to say—the Tibetan forces stationed in Hepolao are not limited to three thousand men?”

A voice suddenly intruded from outside, startling the three men, who all looked up at once.

“I knew it—they’d be here. By heaven, the aroma—why, it can be smelled from miles away!”

Feng Changqing had not come alone. He was followed by a retinue, most of them attendants, but the few at the front were clearly of different rank. Among them was Yang Yu, who walked at the rear alongside a young officer. Catching Liu Ji’s eye while the others were distracted, he gave a discreet signal.

After days spent together in life-and-death situations, the two had developed a tacit understanding. Liu Ji realized at once that this group was, in all likelihood, here for him. The trouble was, he scarcely recognized any of them.

“Greetings, Sima.”

“Your subordinate pays respects, Sima.”

“Commander Feng.”

The three rose to their feet and, each in their own way, saluted Feng Changqing. He waved the gesture aside and pointed at Liu Ji.

“He’s only just woken—his mind is still clouded.” Then he turned his head, “Fifth Son, your master has been worried sick. When he heard you’d awakened, he insisted on coming to see you. He went to your quarters first, but it seems you’re hiding out here.”

Liu Ji was momentarily taken aback—so he had a master as well? But Feng Changqing hadn’t specified which one. With no time to lose, he had no choice but to take a chance. If he guessed wrong, he could always blame it on his head injury and poor eyesight—after all, they’d already given him the perfect excuse.

Having made up his mind, he calmly straightened his sleeves and arranged his expression into one of respectful humility.