Chapter Eight: An Unintentional Stratagem

Xue Na hardly hesitated before nodding in agreement. “You’re quite right—only a hero is worthy of a fine steed. If the man is a hero, why should we begrudge him a good horse? Tell me his name and address, and I’ll prepare three steeds of varying quality for him. Let him claim the best with his own skill.”

Pei Min replied without a trace of doubt, “Then, Grand Marshal, you’ll certainly feel the loss. The finest steed will surely end up in his hands.”

Xue Na laughed. “I hope so. But you, boy, win hearts with mere words. You truly have the makings of a great man. I’m half-afraid to accept you; if one day you overtake me, that would be quite the predicament!”

Pei Min quickly protested, “You flatter me, Grand Marshal. The horses are your gift, nothing to do with me.”

Xue Na scolded him with a smile. “Don’t act clever when you’ve gained the advantage. If that Lei Zhen really has the skill, let him take the horse. Even if he’s as straightforward as Li Yide, he’ll know whom to thank in the end.”

Pei Min smiled along, and when Xue Na mentioned Li Yide, he realized it had been nearly two months since he’d last seen that strong and honest man. Curious about how he was faring since joining the army, Pei Min inquired after him.

Xue Na nodded approvingly. “He’s a true talent—more valuable than I’d expected. He never refuses any training I assign him, nor does he pretend to comply while shirking his duties. Whatever you ask of him, he’ll do, even if it’s leaping into a trap. That kind of stubborn courage is exactly what’s needed in battle. In just two months, his progress is remarkable.”

Pei Min felt genuinely glad that Li Yide had found such a discerning superior in Xue Na. They chatted idly for a while longer, until Xue Na turned to serious matters.

“As you once said, the Protectorate-General to Pacify the East stands isolated, hearts are unsettled and anxious. His Majesty has discussed this with me in secret, considering another campaign against the Xi and Khitan tribes. What’s your opinion?”

Pei Min’s heart gave a sudden jolt. “I believe it would be unwise. Launching a campaign now is too risky—we could well repeat past disasters.” He suddenly remembered that, according to history, after Sun Quan’s tenure, Xue Na himself had launched expeditions against the Xi and Khitan in hopes of reclaiming Yingzhou and Liucheng. The results were disastrous: Xue Na suffered a crushing defeat and was mocked by the Khitan, who called him ‘Old Lady Xue’ for his feeble conduct in battle.

Xue Na asked gravely, “Why do you say so?” He had been troubled by this for some time. Li Longji, newly enthroned, was still under the sway of Princess Taiping at court and unable to act freely. He placed his hope in victories abroad; Yingzhou and Liucheng had long been lost, occupied by the Xi and Khitan since the days of Empress Wu. If he could recover the lost territory and reclaim Liaodong, his prestige as emperor would be greatly enhanced—thus, he was eager for war.

Xue Na was well aware that Silla’s ambitions against Tang had not faded. The Protectorate-General was cut off by the Xi and Khitan, left isolated and without support. He believed that Silla was now wavering—whether to remain a loyal vassal of Tang or seize the Protectorate and the old lands of Goguryeo to become the true overlord of the East. Fortunately, Silla’s only bold and visionary leader, Kim Yushin, had already died; lacking a capable head, Silla remained inactive for the time being.

But Xue Na knew that the greatest folly was to pin one’s hopes on the enemy’s restraint. At present, the Protectorate was a tempting prize. Silla’s inaction now did not guarantee they would always hold back. Temptation knows no bounds, as history well attests. Should Silla decide to defy the Tang and seize the Protectorate, they would become an even stronger adversary than Goguryeo had once been.

Fully aware of the grave situation, Xue Na had long intended to march against the Xi and Khitan, recover Liaodong, and reestablish a land route to the Protectorate, thereby deterring Silla. His thinking aligned perfectly with Li Longji’s. All it would take was a memorial to court, and the emperor would grant him full support—troops, funds, whatever he needed. Still, a trace of unease lingered in Xue Na’s heart, leaving him unable to decide.

Pei Min tried to sort out his thoughts. He realized his own understanding of military affairs was superficial at best—just a few books read here and there. Xue Na, though not as invincible as his father Xue Rengui, was still a renowned general. To display his own shallow knowledge would be like showing off an axe before a master carpenter. So he decided to speak plainly.

“Our army is drawn from the fubing system, but that system has decayed. The fighting quality of our soldiers isn’t what it once was. Today’s fubing are little more than lambs—no matter how courageous or brilliant the commander, you can’t win with an army of lambs. What’s more, the emperor is transferring troops and officers from other regions; these men are unfamiliar with you, Grand Marshal. Forgive my bluntness, but I don’t believe you yet command their loyalty.”

In his recollection, Xue Na’s great defeat was due to poor coordination among the generals. The officers brought in from elsewhere refused to submit to his authority. The troops were already of poor quality, and mutual suspicion only worsened matters, leading directly to disaster at the Luan River.

Xue Na fell silent. Pei Min had put his unease into words. He had long commanded Youzhou, training and preparing for the day when he could recover Liaodong. Then an imperial decree sent him away, replaced by Sun Quan, who quickly squandered all the advantage he had built. Now, returned to command, Xue Na had only a limited force at his disposal. If he led a campaign to recover Liaodong, he would be the nominal commander, but most of his troops and officers would be strangers from other regions—not knowing their commander, nor he them, which is a fatal flaw in warfare.

Poor troop quality combined with this military taboo spelled disaster.

“In that case, this campaign truly should not be fought.” Xue Na finally made up his mind. He had long wavered, consulting his closest confidants many times, weighing the risks and rewards equally. The matter was too important for a hasty decision. Today, meeting with Pei Min—remembering his clear insights on the eastern situation—he had decided to seek his counsel.

“It must not be fought,” Pei Min replied firmly. “The two-hundred-li stretch of treacherous road to Liaodong puts us at a great disadvantage. By the time our army completes the march, they’ll be exhausted. Facing the well-rested Xi and Khitan, with our own troops’ low morale and poor training, victory would be nothing short of a miracle. Until the fubing system is reformed and our troops’ quality restored, I cannot recommend opening a front in Liaodong. As for the Protectorate, we can only strengthen our waterway connections to reassure them, even send reinforcements by river to bolster their strength.”

Pei Min spoke without ulterior motive, but Xue Na listened with keen attention.

Suddenly, Xue Na slapped the table. “Yes! Why must we attack by land? We can feint with a land assault and send troops by water to the Protectorate for a surprise attack on Liucheng, just as Medicine Master Gong once did with the Turks! This plan will work—this plan will work! Ha! You are truly my lucky star. I’ll be sure to commend you for this.” With that, he left Pei Min behind, laughing heartily as he strode away.