When it came time to figure out how Sun Wu should push west, Lu Meng had exactly one conviction: Zhou Yu had already written the perfect playbook, and all he had to do was follow the ghost of Red Cliffs.
The strategy looked remarkably simple once you unrolled a map.
First, gather the army at Chaisang. Then move everything to Baqiu and get the fleet organized. Neither town was especially impressive. They were just solid little settlements sitting on the south bank of the Yangtze.
The real prize wasn't the towns themselves, but where they happened to sit, since both lay next to lakes large enough to hide an entire navy.
Chaisang hugged the edge of Lake Poyang, a massive, tangled maze of rivers, marshes, and waterways that was practically paradise for anyone who fought from a boat. You could drill your marines from dawn until dusk, test every new warship fresh out of the dockyards, and shuttle confidential orders between camps without a single curious northerner catching so much as a glimpse.
Further west stood Baqiu, nestled against Lake Dongting.
Calling Dongting a lake almost felt unfair.
The thing was so enormous it looked more like an inland sea. Anyone planning to march into Ba or Shu could hardly ask for a better staging ground. It was the absolute perfect launch point for an invasion straight into the heart of Liu Bei's territory.
Years earlier, Zhou Yu had dragged his aching body all the way to Chaisang just to get the army mobilized. Then he pushed himself even further, moving the entire operation forward to Baqiu. Anyone with half a brain could look at the map and see exactly where he was headed next. Jiangling was about to get thoroughly stomped.
Unfortunately, Zhou Yu's body had other plans.
His condition worsened with every passing month. The man just kept getting sicker and sicker until illness finally claimed him, leaving behind an unfinished campaign and a void in Sun Wu's leadership that no one could truly replace.
Lu Meng had no intention of pretending he was cleverer than Zhou Yu.
If a brilliant commander had already done all the difficult thinking, why waste time trying to reinvent the strategy? The wheel was already rolling toward victory.
His job was simply to keep it moving.
He was not the sort of egomaniac who felt the need to rebuild something that already worked perfectly.
But there was exactly one thing ruining his mood, and it had a name. Jiangling. The very same fortress Zhou Yu had been drooling over before he kicked the bucket. Just the thought of it made Lu Meng want to drive his fist through the hull of his flagship.
Hoping to clear his thoughts, Lu Meng reached deep into his armor and pulled out a tiny, folded piece of silk.
The silk was exquisite.
Fine weaving. Elegant embroidery. The sort of fabric that probably cost more than a veteran soldier earned in an entire year.
Sadly, all that luxury had been sacrificed to what could only be described as criminal cartography.
Messy ink stains covered every inch of it.
Lu Meng stared at it with visible disgust.
Every time he remembered how much he had paid for this so-called intelligence, his chest actually hurt.
"Those damn wandering merchants ought to be beheaded," he muttered.
He unfolded the silk and spread it across a nearby barrel.
Supposedly, it was a tactical map of Jiangling, Gong'an, and the surrounding defenses.
Calling it a rough draft would have been charitable.
The rivers meandered wherever they pleased. Roads vanished halfway across the page. Entire hills seemed to have changed their minds halfway through being drawn.
It looked less like the work of a professional cartographer and more like something sketched by a man riding a galloping horse over a road full of potholes.
If Guan Yu himself suddenly appeared and tried to read it, the God of War would probably stand there squinting for ten minutes, muttering under his breath, trying to figure out which smear was supposed to be Jiangling and which one was just a spilled drop of ink.
Still.
It was good enough.
Lu Meng hardly needed a proper map anyway. He had been stationed in Jiangling back when Zhou Yu held the city, and he knew the place well enough to walk its streets blindfolded. He knew every twist and turn of the layout. That familiarity only made the problem more obvious.
Taking Jiangling was going to be miserable.
The city sat with water guarding two of its sides, making a complete encirclement difficult enough before anyone even started talking about scaling walls.
Surrounding it was a headache, let alone actually attacking it.
Then Guan Yu had spent the past year improving the defenses.
Because apparently, Guan Yu had looked at an already formidable fortress and thought, "This still isn't inconvenient enough." That was exactly the kind of thing the big guy would do. The man was a paranoid perfectionist when it came to walls. Maybe he had some deep-seated trauma, some childhood nightmare about a broken gate. Who knows.
He reinforced every wall. He built a whole new outer ring of fortifications. He strengthened every weak point. Jiangling was now about as easy to crack as a diamond.
Stuck staring at this headache, Lu Meng's mind drifted back to a recent conversation with a young scholar most people had never heard of: Lu Yi.
"Any place that's perfect for defense is also perfect for isolating," the kid had said, dropping some of the coldest tactical advice Lu Meng had ever heard with the casual tone of a guy ordering tea.
"Plus," Lu Yi had continued, "Jiangling's become a massive trade hub. You've got tens of thousands of people packed in there: merchants, craftsmen, refugees. Feeding all those mouths must burn through a thousand shi of grain every single day."
Lu Meng stared down at his terrible map, letting that logic sink in all over again.
"We don't need to attack the walls. Just surround the place with the main army, then use fast boats to choke off every river and cut their supply lines. No grain coming in, and Jiangling becomes a starving island in a sea of enemies. We just wait. Not a single drop of our blood spilled on those walls. In three to five months, they'll collapse on their own."
Reading the proposal without a name attached, anyone would have imagined its author to be some scarred old veteran who had spent decades wading through battlefield mud.
Instead, Lu Yi was a soft-spoken, impeccably dressed aristocrat whose robes probably weighed more than his sword. The kind of man who probably could not lift a blade if his life depended on it.
When Sun Quan first forwarded the proposal to the front, Lu Meng had barely given it a glance. Military advice from a young scholar who had never fought a battle belonged exactly where he had put it.
At the bottom of the pile.
He had scoffed at the idea of taking strategic counsel from some bookworm who had never seen a real fight.
But then he had actually sat down and read the whole thing.
The core concept of drawing a line at the river, holding their ground, and just waiting for the right moment had hit him like a lightning bolt. It was like stumbling across a lantern in a pitch-black cave.
By the end, he wondered why nobody had thought of it sooner.
The strategy was beautifully simple. Don't batter your head against Jiangling. Just strangle it.
Now, working together with Lu Yi to iron out every last detail, Lu Meng finally made up his mind for good. He slapped the table.
"That's it."
He rolled up the miserable excuse for a map.
"We strike Gong'an and Chanling first. Once those fall, Jiangling loses its only road to the southern commanderies. Cut the logistical link, and the rest of Jingzhou is just a matter of sitting back and waiting."
His officers looked over. Lu Meng's confidence was palpable.
Everything after that became one enormous coordinated operation. Lu Meng would lead the main army and drive straight at Jiangling. Meanwhile, old hands like Pan Zhang, Ding Feng, and Jiang Qin would peel off with separate contingents from Yuzhang and Luling, sweeping into Changsha, Guiyang, and the remaining southern territories.
Once those roads were severed, Jiangling would be trapped.
No grain. No reinforcements. No escape.
Lu Meng could almost hear Guan Yu grinding his teeth already.
Orders rang out across the fleet.
War drums pounded a steady, menacing rhythm that rolled over the Yangtze like distant thunder.
Thousands of ships surged upstream together, their sails filling in unison until the entire river looked like it had grown a forest of moving masts.
The fleet moved as one massive creature, driving hard against the current.
This time, Gong'an wasn't optional.
Lu Meng was absolutely determined to wipe away every ounce of humiliation Sun Wu had ever suffered there.
The fleet itself was a real mixed bag.
The veterans from Jiangxia who had served under Lu Meng for years were exactly what you'd expect. Disciplined. Professional. They kept their formation, did their jobs, and saved their talking for when it actually mattered.
The new recruits were another story entirely.
Most had been conscripted from deep in the east.
They'd barely finished learning which end of an oar went in the water before somebody pointed them toward Jingzhou and said, "Congratulations, you're invading Guan Yu."
As the ships groaned against the current, nervous whispers spread from deck to deck faster than a fire in dry grass.
"Are we really supposed to row these small boats straight at Guan Yu's fleet?" one kid asked, chewing his thumbnail down to the quick. "Is that actually the plan?"
An older sailor leaning against the mast snorted loud enough to carry across the deck. "I heard Guan Yu has a ship so big it can smash through city walls. Bet his flagship is twice the size of Lord Sun's personal vessel!"
Another soldier fussed with his leather armor like it was two sizes too small. "Look, if this turns into a fight on the water, I say we just jump in the river. These boats belong to the bosses anyway. Who cares if they sink? Keeping our heads attached to our necks is all that matters."
"Maybe we should just shut up and see what happens," a fourth guy muttered, glancing nervously toward the command ship. "Before we left, my captain said Lord Sun is in a foul mood. We really do not want to draw attention to ourselves."
"Wait, why is he in a bad mood?"
"Rumor says he lost two of his top generals recently."
The first kid blinked in total confusion. "That does not make sense. How do you lose a whole general?"
"SHUT IT!"
The bark came from a veteran Jiangxia marine at the bow, glaring at the gossiping recruits like they were absolute idiots.
The new guys exchanged nervous looks and shrugged. Seeing morale nosediving fast, the veteran decided to throw them something to work with.
He waited for the river wind to die down before speaking again.
"Listen up, you numbskulls," he said, his voice rough as sandpaper. "Right before we left Jiangxia, General Lu got word that the Han River is blocked up and we are in the middle of dry season. Water levels are terrible. There is no way Guan Yu can sail those giant ships south to fight us. They would run aground before they got halfway here."
Hoping to spark some real enthusiasm, he raised his voice a little more. "General Lu says if we take Jiangling, every single man here gets a cash reward!"
The new guys were not exactly impressed. One let out a loud snort.
"So if we do not take the most heavily fortified city in existence, we get nothing."
"Nothing?" another laughed bitterly. "If we survive without getting whipped or killed for failing, I will call that a win!"
"Oh please," a third added, dripping with sarcasm. "General Lu is basically a war god! Taking little old Jiangling will take him five minutes! Then we will get our gold, and he will march us all the way to Yizhou to catch Liu Bei alive!"
The deck erupted in dark, cynical laughter. The tension broke, replaced by rude jokes and smart remarks. Lu Meng's loyal veterans ground their teeth but kept quiet. Starting a fight on a ship heading to battle was never a good idea.
Truth be told, even some of Lu Meng's oldest followers had their own private doubts about this whole operation.
The difference was they'd learned long ago that worrying quietly was usually healthier than worrying out loud. An order was an order. They were professionals. When the general said march, you marched.
But deep down, in the quiet parts of their minds, some of these hardcore soldiers could not help wondering what it would be like to serve someone like Guan Yu.
Just last year, Guan Yu had marched north, smashed Cao's forces to pieces, and scared the daylights out of everyone in the east.
The man was a living legend.
Meanwhile, Sun Quan had led a huge army against Hefei and gotten absolutely destroyed.
He had sent shockwaves through the east too, but only because his failure was so spectacularly embarrassing.
Even now, when southern folks sat in taverns drinking and gossiping, they always talked about two things. First, they would praise Guan Yu's godlike fighting skills at the top of their lungs. Then they would lean in close and whisper about how Sun Quan had run away with his tail between his legs.
Nobody dared shout the details of the Hefei mess out loud, but when two guys sat down for tea and sighed at each other, everyone in the room knew exactly what they were thinking.
Because of all this, people in the east never stopped arguing about their heroes.
They would compare the living legend of Guan Yu to the fading ghost of Zhou Yu until their throats were sore.
Opinions were all over the place, but everyone agreed on one thing: both men were once-in-a-generation warriors.
Standing on the deck and listening to the water slap against the hull, the Jiangxia veteran looked out at the grey horizon. A wave of sadness washed over him.
Just a few years ago, they had followed Commander Zhou into Red Cliffs. They had taken on the whole world and won, building their glory fighting fair and square.
He gripped his spear tight.
And now? Here they were, sneaking out of Baqiu like thieves in the night, trying to stab Lord Guan Yu in the back.
He looked up at the sky. If Commander Zhou was watching them from wherever heroes go, he wondered what the man thought of them now.
---
Miles away, high on Jiangling's freshly repaired walls, young Zhuge Qiao had other things on his mind.
He walked up to a heavily armored guard, bowed politely, and asked if he could borrow a small wooden step stool. Once he had it, he carefully set the stool against the stone battlements, wiggling it back and forth to make sure it would not slip on the cold rock. Satisfied it was safe, he turned around and scooped up his little sister like she weighed nothing, lifting Zhuge Guo up and plopping her down on the stool.
Now tall enough to see over the wall, the little girl stuck her head through a gap in the stones. Her hair was tied in two messy braids that bounced as she moved, and she stared out across the Yangtze. A second later, she let out a sharp gasp.
"WHOA!"
She pointed a tiny finger at the southern shore. "Big brother! Our house is on FIRE!"
Zhuge Qiao let out a helpless little laugh. Thankfully, the wall was packed with soldiers and engineers all staring at the same thick black smoke rising from across the river, so nobody paid any attention to a little kid's dramatic announcement. He reached out and patted her head gently.
"Guo Guo, we have to be accurate," he corrected her. "We moved to Jiangling with Mother almost a year ago. The place in Gong'an is just our old house now."
Zhuge Guo blinked her big eyes, not seeing why this mattered at all. "It is still our house!" she insisted. "And now it is burning! Mother is going to be so sad! She will not even come up here to watch!"
She had a point. Zhuge Qiao knew how much work their mom had put into the workshops in Gong'an, with late nights and endless calculations that produced enough sweat to fill a bucket. But this fire was not a surprise.
Way back in the first month of the year, acting on secret orders from Jiang Wan, they had started moving everything important out. Every machine, every tool, and every skilled worker had been quietly packed up and brought across the river to Jiangling. By yesterday evening, Gong'an was just an empty shell.
Still, even knowing it was all part of the plan, watching their old home burn felt weird. The strategy was harsh but necessary. Sun Wu's army was coming, and Gong'an was a nightmare to defend, squished between two rivers. The automated crossbows on the banks were deadly, but they could not hold off a real invasion forever. The city was going to fall eventually.
Huang Yueying and Jiang Wan had agreed on one rule and one rule only. The enemy could have the land, and they could have the empty buildings, but there was no way Sun Wu was getting their hands on the secrets of the Eight Ox Ballistas.
Thankfully, moving everyone out had been easier than expected. Over the past year, as Jiangling got richer and busier, most people from Gong'an had packed up and moved north anyway. Historically, Gong'an had just been useless dirt. It only became a real place because Liu Bei had set up camp there years ago. Now that northern Jing was stable and thriving, anyone who wanted a good life had already left. The only people who had stayed were the ones running the workshops. And now, with one big fire, all that was gone.
Zhuge Guo stared at the smoke for a few more seconds, apparently deciding she had seen enough destruction for one day. She hopped off the stool with a dull thump and then took off running.
"I am going to go find Mother!"
The little girl vanished in a flash, leaving her brother standing there holding the stool. Zhuge Qiao sighed, looked at the stool, looked at his sister's retreating back, and then turned to the guard with a deeply apologetic bow.
"I am so sorry," he said quickly. "I have to go make sure she does not fall in a ditch. I cannot bring the stool back right now."
The guard, who knew the polite young scholar well, just laughed and waved him off. "Go get her, young master."
Running through Jiangling's busy streets, Zhuge Guo navigated the narrow alleys like she owned them. She dodged merchant carts, squeezed through tight gaps, and finally reached the wooden back door of a quiet mansion, slipping inside.
The courtyard was beautiful, calm and elegant even in the dead of winter. And even though the air was cold enough to make your nose run, one corner was absolutely bursting with bright, colorful flowers. Even on a mission to find her mom, Zhuge Guo skidded to a stop to look.
The plants were all inside a clear glass structure, and if you looked close, you could see little wisps of warm steam rising from the soil. It was pure magic, or at least that was what Zhuge Guo thought. Her mom had had workers dig a tunnel from the kitchen ovens right under the courtyard, with a small fire burning day and night to pump warm air through clay pipes under the dirt. Her mom had tried to explain the science once. Zhuge Guo had understood maybe a quarter of the words, but she was absolutely convinced her mother could do real magic.
After admiring the flowers for a few seconds, her tiny boots hit the stone path again. She sprinted through the central courtyard, bounded down a long wooden corridor, and shoved open the heavy door to Huang Yueying's private study.
"Mother!" Zhuge Guo announced loudly. "Our house across the river is totally on fire!"
Sitting behind a wooden drafting table, Huang Yueying simply nodded her head once to acknowledge the report. She did not stop working, and she did not even blink. Her eyes remained locked on the parchment in front of her. Her right hand moved with terrifying precision, sliding a heavy wooden ruler across the paper while her left hand dragged a stiff brush perfectly along the edge.
Seeing that her dramatic news had failed to elicit a reaction, Zhuge Guo's eyes darted around the room and she decided to escalate the situation. She pushed out her lower lip and adopted a look of pure tragedy.
"Big brother took me up to the wall to watch it burn," she lied smoothly. "He was crying so hard. He was devastated."
The brush in Huang Yueying's hand did not waver a single millimeter, but a warm, amused laugh drifted across the room. "If your brother heard you slandering his emotional stability like that, he would be displeased with you."
Zhuge Guo did not care. She recognized the tone of her mother's voice, which meant her mother was in a great mood. Sensing an opening, the little girl bolted across the room and immediately began climbing up her mother's leg like a monkey scaling a tree.
The sudden physical assault finally broke Huang Yueying's concentration. She scrambled to drop her expensive brush before the ink ruined the blueprints, then quickly scooped the chaotic child off her leg and pulled her onto her lap. Standing quietly outside the open door, Zhuge Qiao had heard the entire exchange. He shook his head, let out a soft chuckle at his sister's blatant lies, and quietly walked away to leave them to their work.
Now comfortably seated in her mother's lap, Zhuge Guo grabbed the edge of Huang Yueying's robe and leaned forward to inspect the piece of parchment on the desk. She stared at the confusing grid of intersecting lines and perfectly drawn squares until a moment of clarity hit her.
"Wait, is this a map of Gong'an?"
Resting her chin on top of her daughter's head, Huang Yueying reached out and adjusted the heavy paper.
"The old industrial layout in Gong'an was a disaster," Huang Yueying explained, her voice slipping into the clinical tone she used when discussing engineering. "The workshops were clustered together randomly. The transit paths for the carts were overlapping. It made logistics inefficient for the craftsmen. Honestly, burning it all down was probably for the best. It gives us a clean slate."
She tapped a specific section of the blueprint. "Recently, I received a letter from your father. He mentioned that we are now actively manufacturing over twenty distinct categories of industrial and military goods. If we do not sit down and properly design a unified logistical grid right now, the chaos will permanently bottleneck our production capacity."
Because of that warning, Huang Yueying had been spending her days drafting an entirely new concept. She was trying to design a true, integrated industrial county from the ground up, organizing the workshops by their specific logistical needs and supply chains.
Zhuge Guo did not understand a single word of the industrial logistics, but she possessed ears like a hawk. She caught the only word that actually mattered to her.
"When is Father coming home?!"
Huang Yueying looked down and offered a gentle, warm smile.
"Your father promised he would return before the end of this year."
A joyful cheer exploded inside the quiet study, echoing out into the winter air.