Chapter Fifty-Nine: Cloud of Blossoms

Zhang Wanhou, sitting across from him, burst into laughter. “Marshal Zhaoxian, you truly are wise. Today, with our two armies attacking the Red Turban rebels from both sides, we’re sure to return victorious. In the heat of battle, swords and spears know no mercy—should things get out of hand, I hope you won’t hold it against us!”

“Of course not, of course not,” Chen Zhaoxian replied, his tone somewhat cool and detached. “We all fight for the good of the realm. There’s no room for personal attachments. But Zhang Wanhou, today is not about our two forces encircling the Red Turbans. We cannot afford any mishap in Hangzhou! Combining our two armies increases our chances, but only when three armies strike together can we guarantee a resounding victory!”

This Zhang Wanhou was the commander of the Yingchuan Army in the Hangzhou region. The title “Yingchuan Army” signified that his force was not made up of local militia, Green Standard troops, or pikemen, but rather the hereditary Han commanders who had served the Yuan from the very beginning.

The Yingchuan Army was one of the four major commands stationed in Hangzhou for decades, and Zhang Wanhou himself had a reputation as one of the finest generals in the southeast. In the twelfth year of Zhizheng, Xiang Pulue was able to take Hangzhou so easily precisely because Zhang and his troops were then on campaign in Jiangxi.

Upon hearing that his home, Hangzhou, had fallen, Zhang immediately turned his army back. Before long, he achieved a stunning victory near Changzhou, severely crushing the Red Turbans retreating from Jiqing and chasing them as far as Huizhou. This feat made a strong impression on the Censorate of Jiangnan in Jiqing, and soon Zhang’s force became the region’s mobile strike power, with every possible effort made to re-equip and reinforce the Yingchuan Army.

Yet when Chen Zhaoxian warned, “Hangzhou cannot afford a mishap,” he was alluding to Zhang’s close ties with the Jiangnan Censorate in Jiqing. Though Zhang hailed from Hangzhou and was one of its principal defenders, his alliance with the Censorate drew criticism from the provincial authorities.

Zhang, however, felt Chen was worrying too much. “Marshal Zhaoxian, while I’ve had some minor friction with the provincial government, those old grievances do not affect the greater cause. This is a pivotal battle that may decide the fate of the nation. Would the Minister really try to undermine us now?”

The “Minister” he referred to was Maishuding, vice-chief of the Jiangzhe Provincial Secretariat. Zhang’s earlier victory in Changzhou had followed a falling-out with Maishuding, and the bad blood between them had yet to be resolved.

Yet despite the Censorate and Provincial Secretariat being separate entities, Zhang believed that, as servants of the Yuan, neither side would undermine the other at such a critical moment.

Chen Zhaoxian, however, held an entirely different view. “Zhang Wanhou, we must keep a close watch on Hangzhou. My own father is still a captive of the Red Turbans. Besides, we are the Censorate; they are the Provincial Secretariat. We are not one family, nor do we share the same table. You must keep a close eye on them!”

He and his father, Chen Yexian, had ended up on opposite sides despite their blood ties. In peaceful times, the Censorate and Provincial Secretariat were always at odds—if one stabbed the other in the back now, the aftermath would amount to little more than legal wrangling. Only then did Zhang Wanhou understand Chen’s concern. “Very well, I’ll keep an eye on Maishuding and Zuo Danashili. After all, Zuo Danashili transferred from the Censorate to the Provincial Secretariat and there should still be some old ties between us.”

In his mind, it was more worth worrying about the Red Turbans receiving sudden reinforcements than the Secretariat holding back.

“Zhu Yuanzhang is cautious. This time, he’s brought out nearly his entire force in open battle, and just as we’re crossing the river. Even if he suffers a setback, he won’t lose his main camp!”

Yet the more Liu Yi spoke in this measured way, the more resolute Jinhua Lady became in her intent to kill. She didn’t show her murderous intent, however, and knew well that dealing with Zhu Yuanzhang required the right opportunity. “So you mean Zhu will not suffer a crushing defeat this time?”

Liu Yi was frank. “Xie Guoxi was driven across the river by our Red Turbans. The Pikemen are known for their ferocity, but with Zhu Yuanzhang’s disciplined army pressing forward, even a defeat would be a mere setback, nothing to worry about.”

He added a truth he kept to himself: “No matter how this turns out, at least I’ll have a chance to meet the brothers of the Left Battalion and strengthen our bonds.”

Liu Yi believed that Zhu Yuanzhang could not die now. If he perished, the situation would spiral out of control. In a different timeline, it was in this very setback that Zhu managed to reap all the benefits: Guo Tianshu, Zhang Tianyou, and Chen Yexian all perished, leaving Zhu to inherit Guo Zixing’s entire legacy and build the Ming dynasty’s three-hundred-year reign.

Realizing this, Liu Yi knew he could not let Zhu seize all the rewards. Regardless of Guo Tianshu’s or Zhang Tianyou’s fate, Liu was determined to claim a share of Guo’s legacy. If he wanted to survive and thrive in chaotic times, he would have to challenge Zhu Yuanzhang for supremacy.

And if it came to such a contest, it would not suffice to compete only for Guo Zixing’s inheritance. Zhu’s Left Battalion was the strongest and most unified force among the Chuzhou Red Turbans. Guo Tianshu often said, “Not even a needle can slip into the Left Battalion.” The key to Liu Yi’s rivalry with Zhu lay in how many men he could win over from the Left Battalion.

This would be an immense challenge. Historically, Zhu’s core group, apart from Xie Zaixing of Zhuji, had no record of betrayal. But Liu Yi knew that even the strongest fortress must be breached from within. Jinhua Lady, on the other hand, believed that eliminating Zhu would resolve everything. “As long as Zhu lives, all we can do is meet and make our presence known. I only hope this trip won’t be in vain.”

Though she had brought her own bodyguard of three hundred men, together with Liu Yi’s troops they numbered just over a thousand.

No one could fault Liu Yi for bringing only a thousand men to assist Zhu Yuanzhang. After all, half of the four marshals from the Chaohu Command had come—Zhu could at most utter a few words of complaint.

Liu Yi was about to reassure Jinhua Lady when, after the thunder of urgent hoofbeats ahead, someone called out, “Is Marshal Liu Yi up ahead?”

Looking straight ahead, Liu Yi saw it was one of Zhu Yuanzhang’s own captains—a man named Hua Yun, who was somewhat renowned in another timeline. “I am Liu Yi. Captain Hua, your reputation precedes you.”

Despite being one of the most formidable warriors of the Chuzhou Red Turbans, Hua Yun had delicate features and a rather gentle appearance, and his voice had a distinctive quality. “Marshal Liu, our Left Battalion is in danger up ahead. Commander Zhu asks that you bring your marines to our aid at once. He says that if you can give the Left Battalion a hand, all past grievances will be wiped clean.”

Liu Yi was deeply shocked by this news. “Is it not just Xie Guoxi? How could you be so hard-pressed by him with your full force?”