Volume One: Flames on the Frontier Chapter Sixty-Five: Death to the Defiant

He Yu was lost in thought when he saw Cui Liang’s face darken with anger. “Ignorant child, what do you know? Step aside at once.” This time, he had brought his nephew to Pingcheng to temper him, to teach him the ways of the world, not to let him shine before others.

Cui Hao, rebuked in front of everyone, was somewhat embarrassed and wanted to argue, but Cui Liang snapped, “This is no place for a child to speak. Leave the tent.”

“Ah, General, why be angry? Let the young lord finish his words. If he is wrong, it will be time enough to debate.”

“Yes, at a time of war, we should pool our wisdom. The young general is learned and not so young; why be so harsh with him?”

All present pleaded in unison, clearly currying favor with the illustrious Cui clan of Qinghe.

Cui Liang, seeing an opportunity to yield gracefully, said, “Since you all insist, let the child speak. But let it be clear: there are no familial ties in the army. If his words are lacking, I will not tolerate it.”

“Cui Hao, speak to us. The Yan rebels number sixty thousand, while Pingcheng has only three thousand cavalry. How do you propose we break the enemy? Speak for everyone’s benefit.”

Given permission, Cui Hao turned to address the assembly, speaking confidently, “The Yan rebels number sixty thousand, but only thirty thousand are elite cavalry; the rest are a ragtag mob. In my opinion, we should dig more trenches and pitfalls outside the city to slow their advance. Our three thousand cavalry need not all remain in the city—keep one thousand for defense, and send out two thousand, divided into two groups, to harass the enemy day and night, making them uneasy and reducing their offensive strength.”

“Ha! Heroes are always young. First there was Master He, now the young general follows in his footsteps. The younger generation is truly formidable.”

“The young general’s plan has merit. Please elaborate.”

“General Ziming, to have a nephew like this is enviable.”

“The Cui clan of Qinghe truly lives up to its reputation.”

He Yu cursed inwardly, “Damn it, what is this talk of the younger generation being formidable? How did I become the junior here? It’s absurd.”

Cui Liang, pleased with his nephew’s eloquence, kept a stern face and said, “Gentlemen, you flatter him. The boy is unworthy. Cui Hao, don’t just stand there—continue.”

Feigning severity, he looked as if he could scrape half a pound of authority off his face.

With the assembly’s approval, Cui Hao’s confidence grew. He had once feared his uncle, but not now.

“In my humble opinion, the two thousand cavalry should be divided into two groups of one thousand each. Four days from now, they will leave the city and station themselves on the east and west sides of Pingcheng. In the city, flags will be raised by day, lanterns lit by night. The cavalry will act upon these signals, raiding enemy camps and wearing them out.”

“When the Yan rebels realize the ruse, they will send out cavalry. At that moment, there’s no need to engage—withdraw quickly.”

Cui Hao’s plan subtly echoed the principles of modern guerrilla warfare, quite ingenious.

He Yu, who had not spoken until now, said, “In this way, to preserve the horses’ strength, there’s no need to prepare heavy armor—just bring extra rations and arrows.”

“The strong wear down the weak, and the weak drag the enemy to death. The young general’s plan is indeed marvelous.”

“Ha, ha! Well said, the strong wear down the weak, the weak drag the enemy to death. Master He’s words are spot on. Let’s proceed as he suggests.” Cui Liang decided at once.

With the strategy settled, preparations for war began in earnest. Whether the city could be defended would depend on the cavalry outside the walls. The urgent question was how to train these cavalry for sudden action.

All those present were local lords with their own affairs, and most were older; none wished to take on such hard, thankless work. They unanimously nominated He Yu to serve as General of the Gallant Cavalry, responsible for their training.

Northern Wei was still in its infancy, with no unified military or bureaucratic system—barely any at all. The title of General of the Gallant Cavalry was given arbitrarily, without rank or salary.

Based on He Yu’s recent observations, the Northern Wei cavalry were formidable, even stronger than the Yan cavalry. However, due to their nomadic background, discipline was lax; they were brave and fierce, but hard to control. Their fighting spirit wouldn’t be an issue during raids, but the risk was that, once blood was shed, they might not stop.

“To avenge Deng’er, Chen Family Village, and my master, I must rely on the Northern Wei cavalry. I’m the youngest here and command no troops, so training the cavalry is my rightful task.”

With this understanding, He Yu no longer hesitated. He bowed and said, “Your Highness, General Ziming, esteemed generals, since this is so, I accept the appointment as General of the Gallant Cavalry.”

“Good, straightforward.”

“Tomorrow we’ll all come and cheer on General He.”

…

The meeting ended, and after lunch, everyone dispersed. He Yu and Qingyun returned to their small courtyard.

With nothing pressing in the afternoon, He Yu carefully considered the essentials of cavalry training, committing them to memory. He had only three days to produce results—a daunting task.

He Yu had trained cavalry before as Captain of the Assault Cavalry at Chen Family Village. But the people and circumstances were different now, and he was not entirely confident he could achieve immediate results.

He spent the afternoon refining his training plan, making it as perfect as possible, and waited to see how it would work out tomorrow. There was no use worrying—he would adapt as needed. He closed the book, rested his eyes, while Qingyun massaged his shoulders.

After dinner and washing up, they lay down together. Since their intimacy began, they no longer slept apart. Qingyun, warm and supple as a fish, nestled into He Yu’s arms, and he held her close…

Early the next morning, before dawn, the two rose, dressed, and made their way to the main tent to muster the troops. This morning, two thousand elite cavalry would be selected from the three thousand, grouped and organized for drills.

When they arrived, Tuoba Yan was already in the tent, looking slightly haggard—it was clear she had not slept well. Bearing the burden of her family and country, her stress was immense, unimaginable to ordinary people. The tent was brightly lit, and as the generals arrived, they greeted and took their seats.

It was the first light of morning, with a cool summer breeze and tranquil silence.

Woo—woo—

Woo—woo—

Woo—woo—

Suddenly, the trumpet for mustering troops pierced the quiet, shattering the calm of dawn. Instantly, the city was alive with shouts, neighing horses, and clashing armor as cavalry from all sides converged on the main drill ground.

He Yu sat upright in the tent, his face stern. Qingyun held the command flag, standing beside him. The leaders gathered around He Yu.

At the sound of the trumpet, all centurions and chiliarchs of Pingcheng’s cavalry entered the tent in succession, bowing half-knee to He Yu. He Yu nodded slightly, and the officers stood, forming lines on either side.

He Yu observed coldly, “These cavalry officers, their helmets askew and armor untidy, looked lazy and unconcerned, their faces showing disdain—they obviously didn’t take him seriously.”

If Tuoba Yan hadn’t come in person, likely not one would have bothered to attend. The northern troops were brave but undisciplined, with a strong tribal, lax character. Even Tuoba Yan herself struggled to control them completely; just close enough was good enough.

These centurions and chiliarchs, all battle-hardened and arrogant, could not fathom why they, great warriors of Wei, should take orders from a young Han man.

The trumpet sounded three times, and Linghu Xiao began to call the roll.

There was little need; with three thousand cavalry, thirty-three centurions and chiliarchs, and exactly thirty present, three must be missing.

After the roll call, Linghu Xiao stood respectfully aside.

He Yu asked calmly, “Chief Historian Linghu, who are the three absentees?”

Linghu, skilled in diplomacy, clasped his fists and reported, “General, the right-flank chiliarch Changsun Hong and his two centurions are absent. Shall we send for them?”

“Yes, of course. I will wait here for them in the tent.” He Yu had anticipated resistance and had already prepared his approach; without decisive action, he could not command respect or make these unruly warriors obey.

Linghu Xiao gestured, and someone rushed out.

He Yu remained expressionless, studying the map of Pingcheng. Tuoba Yan sat beside him, quietly discussing matters with her attendants. The other leaders exchanged glances, each thinking, “We’ve heard the Xianbei people are addicted to hunting and lax in discipline, but didn’t expect someone would skip the roll call entirely. At least it’s He Yu in the main seat and not one of us—let’s see how he handles this.”

According to Tuoba Yan’s usual practice, as long as the officers arrived eventually, early or late didn’t matter. She was noble and beautiful; the troops respected her. But in these early days of Northern Wei, the habits of the nomadic tribes persisted, and discipline depended on personal authority.

The assembly waited, eager to see how He Yu would respond. Some even wondered if, should he fail to assert himself, Tuoba Yan might take over the training herself.

Over half an hour passed when the sound of bells outside signaled riders approaching.

“A full half-hour late—not just tardy, but deliberately absent,” He Yu thought coldly, his killing intent rising.

Mustering and roll calls had always been the highest priority in the army, from commander to common soldier. Absence without cause was a capital offense.

The tent flap lifted, and three burly Xianbei men strode in, standing in a triangular formation before the commander, refusing to bow.

The leader, about thirty, with bristling yellow beard, was the same officer who had suggested Murong Lin’s feint with false troops at the previous meeting. He Yu had thought well of him then, but had not expected this behavior.

This was none other than Changsun Hong, chiliarch of the right flank, a household slave of King Tuoba Gui, quite capable and influential in the army. Even Tuoba Yan preferred not to offend him.

Changsun Hong had fully expected to be made General of the Gallant Cavalry. But everyone had unanimously recommended He Yu. Worse still, He Yu had arrived in Pingcheng without a single soldier, yet was installed as general. Remembering this, Changsun Hong was furious and openly defied orders to embarrass He Yu.

The leaders had chosen He Yu in part to prevent the Xianbei from gaining more influence. Tensions between the northern Han clans and the Xianbei nobility were already evident.

He Yu put down the map and stared at Changsun Hong for a long time, then said coldly, “You are General Changsun. Why did you miss the roll call?” By now, after years of mingling, both Xianbei and Han languages were commonly used in the north.

He Yu, wishing to display his own capability, asked the question in Xianbei.

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