Ch 11

With Qi momentarily neutralized, Ei Sei decided it was time to take direct action against Ryo Fui. Using the evidence we had gathered of his corruption and illegal dealings, we presented a case against him in the royal court. His once-loyal supporters, seeing the tide turn against him, began withdrawing their allegiance. One by one, his allies abandoned him.

Ryo Fui, realizing he had lost, attempted one last gamble—an open rebellion. His loyalists in the military staged a coup attempt, seizing control of key locations in Kanyou and surrounding territories. But we were prepared.

My forces clashed with Ryo Fui's in the streets, and after a fierce battle, we crushed the rebellion. Ryo Fui was captured and stripped of all power. He was exiled from the capital, his political career destroyed. Qin had rid itself of one of its greatest threats, and the path to unification was clear.

With the internal strife settled, the looming threat of Chu was our final obstacle to the unification of China. Their military was unmatched, boasting vast numbers, highly trained generals, and warriors who had been honed through decades of continuous conflict. The sheer strength of Chu's forces was overwhelming, and defeating them would not only require military brilliance but also the endurance to withstand the relentless pressure they would apply.

Ei Sei, recognizing the weight of this final war, appointed me as Supreme Commander of the Qin forces. "This is the moment we've all worked for, Jake," he said gravely, his eyes burning with determination. "Your leadership will shape the future of this land. The entire fate of our kingdom rests on your shoulders."

With a heavy heart, I accepted. Every victory, every campaign I had led, had brought us to this decisive moment. But even as I stood at the pinnacle of my career, I could feel the enormity of the challenge ahead. Chu was the last bastion standing between us and the unified empire.

We gathered our forces—300,000 strong—but even as we marched south, the distance between us and Chu seemed insurmountable. The path ahead would not be easy, for Chu had the home-field advantage, their generals well-versed in their own land's terrain. We would face ambushes, difficult terrain, and fierce resistance. But we had something they didn't: a united vision and the brilliance of military strategy honed over years of warfare.

The first few skirmishes were brutal. Chu's forces seemed to appear out of nowhere, striking swiftly from the dense forests or across hidden ravines. Their warriors were known for their sheer physical power, and their generals were legendary tacticians. The early engagements tested every part of our army's readiness. They used guerrilla tactics—striking fast and retreating before we could retaliate. It became clear that a traditional battle would not be enough to defeat them.

I decided to adapt quickly. Using a combination of deception and feigned retreats, we tricked Chu's forces into overextending themselves. I ordered false camps to be set up to lure them into attacking, and once they took the bait, we would spring traps of our own. Over the course of several weeks, we wore down Chu's vanguard, causing frustration and confusion among their ranks.

But their true test would come when we entered the Yangtze River Valley—a land of strategic importance, where Chu's forces were concentrated. This would be the site of the final and most decisive battle.

The Battle of Yangtze was unlike any I had ever experienced. The river, a massive barrier, became the stage for one of the bloodiest confrontations in the history of China. Chu's forces, numbering more than 500,000 soldiers, stretched out across the valley in a vast sea of men and steel. Their generals, led by the formidable Xiang Yan, had fortified their positions along the riverbanks, believing they could use the natural defenses of the water to their advantage. The terrain was both an asset and a liability, as the narrow pathways along the river limited our mobility.

For days, we clashed in a brutal exchange of attacks and counterattacks. Chu's forces held the high ground, forcing us to fight from lower positions along the river. I could see the determination in their eyes—their generals knew this battle would determine the future of their state. Xiang Yan, who had earned his reputation as one of the finest military minds in the land, had prepared his troops with the precision of a craftsman, weaving together a strategy that maximized the river's natural choke points. But I, too, had my own strategy.

I ordered the deployment of our elite cavalry in a diversionary strike, drawing out some of their forces from the main battlefield. The cavalry lured a portion of Chu's army into a carefully prepared trap, leading them into a dense forest where we had set up multiple ambush points. The noise from the false engagement lured Xiang Yan into overcommitting his forces.

While they were distracted, I ordered a full assault on their central stronghold by our main army. We pushed forward under the cover of night, using the fog from the river to mask our movements. We struck Chu's commanders where they least expected—at the very heart of their defenses. The battle raged for hours, with neither side yielding ground easily.

I personally led an attack against one of their flank positions. The scene was chaos—arrows darkening the sky, war cries echoing through the valley, and the clash of steel. The battlefield was a thick, choking fog of blood and sweat. It felt like every strike, every clash could be the one that determined the outcome.

In the midst of this chaos, I found myself face-to-face with Xiang Yan. The moment had arrived. The two of us locked eyes across the battlefield, and without hesitation, we charged toward one another. His form was a shadow of power, his sword an extension of his will.

Our duel was a storm of furious blows. His sword was fast and powerful, but I had trained my entire life for this moment, using every ounce of my strength and skill to match him. We danced across the battlefield, each strike thunderous, each parry a brush with death. For hours, the world narrowed down to nothing but the space between us, the violent dance of a general and a warrior.

His blade missed me by inches, and in that fleeting moment of opening, I struck. My sword found its mark, piercing through his defenses, and Xiang Yan fell to the ground. His death sent a shockwave through the remaining Chu forces.

With their leader fallen, Chu's resolve shattered. Their army, disoriented and leaderless, began to collapse. The remaining generals tried to rally their forces, but the weight of their defeat was too much to overcome. Qin's forces pressed forward with relentless fury, and within hours, the battlefield became a slaughter. The rivers ran red with the blood of both men and warriors. Chu's final hold on power was broken, and their forces retreated in disarray.

The Battle of Yangtze ended in a crushing victory for Qin. Xiang Yan's death marked the fall of the last great opposition to the unification of China.