Gabe Quinn gave the young man a cold glance, then turned and sat in his own seat. He paid no mind to the fellow who seemed desperate to kill him with his eyes—clearly some arrogant scion from a big-city clan, the type who, once they had a bit of skill, let their tails wag sky-high. In the Deathsworn Battalion, even if such a man had real martial prowess, he'd die in a heartbeat and never know why. The old man named Walter Grant, hands tucked in his sleeves, was a different story. Gabe sensed a thread of danger from him—a feeling only someone who’d rolled on the edge of death could recognize. There was an iron-blooded, lethal air about him, as if he too had come out of the army. The way Grand Marshal Marcus Lawson addressed him showed his high status; even the top commander had to call him 'Old Walter.'
"Alright, all battalion leaders are assembled. The council is now formally underway. According to the latest orders, our army’s attack direction will change." Marcus Lawson cleared his throat and looked at the officers under the tent.
"What kind of joke is this?" Gabe Quinn sprang up like a cat with its tail stepped on. "Grand Marshal, how can we change something as critical as marching orders at the drop of a hat? Based on the previous orders, the Deathsworn Battalion already sent scouts to recon the route—Western Qin outposts, troop deployments, village locations—all mapped out with difficulty. Now, if we change, we’ll be blind as bats! Isn’t this far too reckless?"
With a bang, Marcus Lawson slapped the table. "Gabe Quinn, you’re getting bold! If you know this is a matter of state, how dare you speak so carelessly? The new attack direction is a direct order from the Second Prince, delivered personally by Princess Aurora. Where to attack is decided by the court; how to fight is up to me. Since when is it your place to speak?"
Gabe’s face flushed bright red. He took a few rough breaths and sat heavily back down. Inwardly, though, he was deeply unimpressed. The Second Prince was far away in the capital, tens of thousands of li from here—what did he know about the front? Probably just wanted to show off his supposed brilliance. He’d pick routes on a map, not realizing the gap between maps and reality was as vast as that between dreams and truth. Two lines might look equally distant on paper, but in real marching, the difference could be days or even weeks. The army wasn’t a lone traveler who could blaze a path anywhere; it was thousands of troops, and a single mountain or lake could cost them endless time. In a clash of armies, such delays could be fatal. Especially for a unit like the Deathsworn Battalion—if they ran into this, it could mean total annihilation. Marcus just wants to curry favor with the Second Prince! The thought made Gabe even angrier.
"I know many of you share Captain Quinn’s doubts. Changing the strategy right before battle will bring huge difficulties, but this time it’s truly necessary. Let Old Walter explain the details." Marcus Lawson turned to the old man.
"Gentlemen, my name is Walter Grant. I serve in the Inner Guard." The old man’s words drew a wave of sharp inhalations throughout the tent. The Inner Guard—Chu’s most secretive institution, personally commanded by the emperor. It was said to be packed with experts and talent from all fields, specializing in missions ordinary men could never accomplish. Of course, the most terrifying job was eliminating those the emperor disliked.
"Not long ago, the capital cracked a Western Qin spy case. They caught an agent hidden in our Ministry of War—a Western Qin operative who’d just been promoted to deputy undersecretary this year. During interrogation, we learned that the detailed battle plan Grand Marshal Lawson submitted had been completely leaked to Western Qin. So, along the route you originally planned, Western Qin has already set a trap, waiting for us to walk right in!" Walter Grant said.
The tent exploded with sharp inhalations and curses. These were soldiers, not refined courtiers—vulgarities flew, and the central command tent sounded more like a street mob than a war council. Marcus Lawson and Walter Grant were clearly used to this, but Princess Aurora beside the Grand Marshal was visibly uncomfortable, shifting in her seat and lowering her eyes. The young man behind her opened his mouth, as if to speak, but seeing the furious mood in the tent, wisely shut up.
"Enough! You’re all commanders of the realm—what are you doing? Shut up and let Old Walter continue." Marcus Lawson rapped the table.
"Given this, the court decided to change the advance route—to turn the enemy’s scheme against them and catch them off guard. For secrecy, Princess Aurora was formally sent to comfort the army, while I disguised myself as her guard to deliver the latest orders and the new attack route," Walter Grant explained.
"Now do you all understand?" Marcus Lawson smiled. "Western Qin thinks they can outwit us and smash our Western Frontier Army—this time, we’ll give them a real surprise."
"Grand Marshal, I have a question for Lord Walter," Gabe Quinn said, rising again, not caring if he annoyed anyone.
"What’s your question, Captain Quinn?" Walter Grant fixed his gaze on Gabe.
"That Western Qin spy managed to climb to deputy undersecretary in the Ministry of War—clearly Western Qin invested a lot in him and valued his role. Now that the Inner Guard cracked the case and arrested him, Western Qin must know he’s been exposed. If he’s compromised, they wouldn’t naively think we’d stick to the old plan, right?"
Walter Grant nodded appreciatively. "That’s a good question, Captain Quinn. Grand Marshal, have you seen any personnel changes recorded in the court gazette?" He turned to Marcus Lawson.
Marcus Lawson shook his head. "None at all."
Walter Grant smiled at Gabe, spreading his hands. "See? Nothing’s changed. That deputy undersecretary still attends court every day, goes home, eats, and sleeps as usual."
Gabe Quinn stared at Walter Grant, mouth agape. "How—how is that possible?"
"The Inner Guard has its own methods. That deputy undersecretary is still sending intelligence to Western Qin—and all that information is genuine," Walter Grant said with a smile.
"Understood!" Gabe Quinn nodded and sat down. Just as Walter Grant said, the Inner Guard had its ways. In the Deathsworn Battalion, Gabe had seen all sorts of ruthless tricks, but compared to the terrifying Inner Guard, those were nothing. Now that they’d found the deputy undersecretary’s weakness, they could make him obey without question.
"If there are no more questions, I’ll assign tasks for this operation." Marcus Lawson’s face grew solemn. "Western Qin has assembled over a hundred thousand troops to destroy us. Our goal isn’t to seize cities, but to destroy that army instead. If we wipe out this Western Qin force, their southern lands will be ours for the taking."
The tent erupted in laughter.
"Gabe Quinn," Marcus Lawson called sharply.
"At your command, sir!" Gabe shot to his feet. The Deathsworn Battalion was always the vanguard—he knew the first name called would be his.
"To confuse the enemy, your Deathsworn Battalion will continue along the original route," Marcus said, watching Gabe’s face fall. He continued, "Use your judgment, but do everything you can to convince Western Qin that we’re sticking to the old plan. The longer you keep up the illusion, the better. You’ve served for years and have plenty of experience—I trust you can handle it. And your actions are the key to the whole operation. If you slip up, all our careful planning will be wasted. If that happens, don’t blame me for enforcing military law without mercy."
"Understood!" Gabe replied listlessly. "This is what the Deathsworn Battalion always does, Grand Marshal. Don’t worry—we’ll do it right. But after the battle, our battalion gets top credit, and the survivors get the richest rewards."
"Of course," Marcus Lawson said with a smile. "If you pull this off, you won’t be a captain anymore. I’ll petition the court to promote you to brigadier. Six years in the Deathsworn Battalion—you’re overdue for a rise."
At Marcus’s words, the tent filled with exclamations—most looked on with envy, though some were genuinely happy for Gabe. For someone to serve as captain in the Deathsworn Battalion for six years was unheard of. But judging by Gabe’s curl of the lip, he clearly wasn’t impressed.
Only the young guard behind Princess Aurora showed a flash of anger in his eyes.
But a frivolous fellow like that was ignored by the rest of the commanders in the tent.
(Some readers ask why there’s martial arts and inner force in what’s supposed to be a historical novel. Honestly, I just wanted to make things more exciting and give the protagonist more chances to shine—these are just flavor, the real focus is still on court intrigue and battlefield struggles. Rest assured! Also, I saw some readers guessing the plot in the comments—back in the old days, people would bet on plot points and lose their little JJs! Hahaha! Looking forward to more wagers!)