702. Three Different Movements, All Have Big Impacts

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Several nodded, but their confidence was not shared by all. Wuluo, an older, grizzled warrior with frost white hair and a scar that split his lip, growled, "This is no raid, boy. This is vengeance. Batu and Zolgar will not be placated with skirmishes or posturing. They come to break us."

"And they outnumber us nearly two to one," added another chieftain, Huni, his voice low but firm. "Even if our warriors are better trained, even if our blood runs hotter, we cannot face them in open battle."

Kuitou nodded solemnly. "That is why we must abandon our old strategies."

The council fell into an uneasy silence.

"The wooden walls and fortress we have built across our western border, will become the bulwark of survival. We cannot meet the Xiongnu in the open steppe. We must draw them to us and let them attack us, into our defenses. Into the terrain we have shaped."

He gestured to the relief map. "Our forts follow the mountain pass trails and river canyons. Narrow routes. Difficult terrain. Places where their cavalry numbers mean less. That is our battlefield now."

Chieftain Wuluo grunted in approval. "We will bleed them in the valleys. Strangle them in the passes. Let their horses break their legs on our spikes."

Yiluge, still bristling, narrowed his eyes. "And if they break through?"

"They won't," Kuitou replied with conviction, but his gaze moved to the map with a weight behind his words. "Not if we adapt. Not if we fight like a people who refuse to vanish. So let me introduce you to someone who was raised in both Xianbei and Han traditions."

He motioned to a younger man at his side, Jirgal, a tactician and engineer, whom he managed to invite back to the Xianbei, after his delegation found him living inside the Han's land during their trading. "Explain."

Jirgal stepped forward, bowing respectfully. "We have made modifications to the fortress walls and watchtowers. Oil cauldron, boulder racks, arrow loops, trapdoors, and makeshift barricades. We've begun preparations for trenches and traps in the choke points leading into the valleys."

He pointed to a ridge line drawn in bold ink on the map. "Here, at the gorge of Chagantu, we can create a death corridor. Lure their cavalry in with retreating patrols, then collapse the rock face above them. If we time it properly, we can crush entire vanguards before they even reach the first gate."

The chieftains murmured approvingly. Tactician Jirgal continued.

"We will also deploy decoys, camps stocked with dummy provisions, and false signals. Let them waste time sacking empty outposts while our elite riders harass their supply lines."

Another chieftain, Borchu, tapped his knuckles against the table. "They will still come in force. And once they are at our walls?"

Kuitou's tone turned grim. "Then we turn our forts into furnaces. We make them bleed for every stone they seek to climb."

He motioned toward the rear doors. With a creak, they opened and several young warriors entered, dragging in bundles of weaponry wrapped in hide. With a flourish, they revealed their contents.

Crossbows, crafted with steel components and lined with deer sinew for tension. Spears tipped with iron and obsidian. Newly forged sabers, short and curved for close quarters. And crude firebombs, clay pots filled with pitch and resin.

"These will be issued to our garrisons. We will train all fighters, even those not of the warrior caste. If they come for our homes, they will find us all waiting."

Silence held the room for a moment, followed by a slow nod from Wuluo. "It is not the old way. But it is war. And war demands change."

Kuitou met each of their eyes. "I ask you now, brothers, will you stand with me? Will you hold the line, not just for glory, but for the survival of our people?"

One by one, the chieftains rose, thumping their fists against their chests in the ancient salute of the steppes. "We ride with you, Chanyu!"

That night, horns blared across the ridges as the war orders spread. Drums beat steadily as the fortress and walls garrisons began their drills, laborers reinforced the wooden walls, and warbands mounted to patrol the mountain trails.

The Xianbei were preparing not just for a battle, but for a siege of their identity, their honor, and their right to remain alive.

Back in Xiangyang, in a modest estate borrowed under the guise of Liu Bei's patronage, Kuai Yue stood in his study, sipping tea as Kuai Liang read a scroll.

"The latest rumors," Kuai Liang said. "Whispers of Liu Bei withholding grain from peasant towns, even as he speaks of justice and welfare of the people."

Kuai Yue smirked. "And looks like, our new friend Cang Xiu ensures the whispers find the right ears and also mouths. It has spread even to Lingling."

"Do you believe his story, brother?" Kuai Liang asked.

"I believe he hates Liu Bei. And hatred is often more honest than love."

Kuai Liang nodded his head slowly, the candlelight in the study flickering against his worn features. What his younger brother had said, hatred is more honest than love, rung true.

Yet some gnawing thread in his mind wouldn't let go of the thought that Cang Xiu was… too polished, too perfectly positioned. Men fueled by hatred often carried fire in their eyes, or trembled with a thirst for vengeance. But Cang Xiu? He moved with the grace of a shadow. Calculated. Cold.

Still, Kuai Liang had learned long ago that the world seldom gifted one the luxury of only trusting saints. Especially in politics. And so he waved the doubt away with a heavy sigh, attributing it to the aches and instincts of old age.

"We should move forward," he said, his voice gravelly but resolute. "Let's release the pieces of evidence we've gathered. Slowly, deliberately. Start with the smallest truths, the kind that are easily swallowed. Tales of empty granaries, taxed villages, Liu Bei's visits to wealthy merchant homes but not to the fields."

Kuai Yue leaned back, eyes glinting. "And let those pieces create questions. Doubts. Before long, whispers will become consensus." He tapped his finger against the table.

"Cang Xiu could control the rumors he spread, it means he has some sort of a network he made to spread them, we should use it, since with his network… those whispers will reach the ears we need. It also means it wouldn't be traced back to us."

"You trust him to carry the burden?" Kuai Liang asked, not sharply, but with the caution of someone who had seen schemes unravel from a single cracked link.

"No," Kuai Yue said without pause. "But I trust that his hatred will keep him honest. For now."

Kuai Liang gave a tired chuckle, one that coughed up more phlegm than amusement. "Very well. Handle it, Yidu. My bones ache too much to chase shadows anymore. But this family, our name, it must not die under the weight of Liu Bei's hypocrisy."

"I'll see to it personally, brother," Kuai Yue replied, rising to his feet with the confidence of a man in his prime. "By the time Liu Bei realizes what's happening, his own image will rot from the inside."

On the other hand, Cang Xiu at this time, moved through the alleys of the city with the precision of a needle threading silk. He had no entourage, no guards, just a quiet confidence that cloaked him more effectively than armor.

Within a dimly lit teahouse at the edge of the merchant quarter, he met with three men, none of them warriors, but all dangerous in their own right.

These people were contacts and informants of the Oriole agents, whom im returned for their services they gained wealth, power, protection, or anything as long as it was worth the service they offered.

One was a playwright. The second, was a courier. The third, was a disgraced former magistrate. Each had their own role.

"The latest script," the playwright said, handing over a set of parchment. "A tale of a benevolent governor who hoards rice while his people starve. The emperor in the play is blind to it all."

Cang Xiu flipped through the pages, his smile thin. "Good. Perform it at the Plum Blossom Theater. Use extra money to ensure some of Liu Bei's low and middle ranking officials attend."

The courier leaned in next. "The letters have reached Jiangling, Wuling, and Lingling. Nobles and merchants alike whisper now. Some even begin to doubt his words."

"And what about our target, Liu Bei?" the ex magistrate asked. "Does he suspect?"

"He suspects many things," Cang Xiu said coolly. "But not the right ones. That is how you destroy a man like him, not by meeting him on the field, but by rotting his foundation until even his allies begin to pull away."

He stood and handed them each 5 silver tael. "Keep feeding the fire."

Meanwhile to the northwest, inside the Ma Clan's seat of power. In Wuwei, snow lingered on the edge of rooftops, clinging stubbornly to the eaves even as the first green buds of spring began to push through frozen soil.

In the main hall of the Ma Clan's compound, the air was thick with tension, not of fear, but of anticipation. Around the long table sat generals, scholars, and advisors loyal to the Ma family. At the head sat Ma Teng, grizzled and imposing, his hands folded as his son Ma Chao stood beside him.

"Grain reserves?" Ma Teng asked, eyes scanning the room.

"Full," replied Shen Ming, a former Han army logistics officer who had defected to the Ma Clan years prior when Ma Teng and Han Suil rebleed against the Han Dynasty.

"We have more than enough to feed our troops and civilians through a prolonged campaign. Thanks to Young Master's agricultural reforms he brought from Lie Fan—" he nodded toward the young warlord, "—yields increased by forty percent this past harvest and it was enough to feed our people with leftovers for reserve and our army, my lord."

"And weapons?" Ma Chao added, arms crossed.

General Xiahou Mo, a grizzled veteran with half an ear missing, grunted. "The forges in the hills have been working around the clock. We've stockpiled enough sabers, bows, and armor to arm all of our men, my lord. And the smiths in the east quarter just finished assembling five new ballistae."

Ma Teng gave a satisfied grunt. "Manpower?"

Jiang Hui, the administrative officer, consulted a scroll. "Seventy thousand trained men, with another ten thousand militia prepared for defense. If needed, the tribes to the west and the border clans can muster an additional five thousand men, my lord."

Ma Chao leaned over the map laid out before them. It showed the region in detail, roads, rivers, supply depots, and Cao Cao's garrisons, each marked carefully. "Then the time is close. We wait only for the right spark, something to draw Cao Cao's eyes elsewhere. Once he is distracted, we strike."

Ma Teng regarded his son with pride and a hint of worry. "Do not underestimate him. Cao Cao is a serpent. Cut the tail, it coils tighter. Cut the head, it strikes with dying venom."

"I understand Father," Ma Chao said. "That is why we must strike where it hurts, but not where it shows. Disrupt his supply lines. Poison the loyalty of the governors he stationed in the frontier. By the time he realizes we are in open revolt, it will already be too late as we will control Wuwei, Jincheng, and Anding."

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Name: Lie Fan

Title: Overlord Of The Central Plains

Age: 33 (200 AD)

Level: 16

Next Level: 462,000

Renown: 1325

Cultivation: Yin Yang Separation (level 9)

SP: 1,121,700

ATTRIBUTE POINTS

STR: 951 (+20)

VIT: 613 (+20)

AGI: 598 (+10)

INT: 617

CHR: 96

WIS: 519

WILL: 407

ATR Points: 0