The Stakes

The Stakes

"I thought I'd run into a fool today. Looks like I misjudged you." Qin Mo was finally defeated by Wang Renbi's shamelessness, and his words carried a trace of exasperation.

"Of course. This heir is brilliant beyond compare, accomplished in both letters and arms—how could ordinary men possibly compare?" Wang Renbi said smugly, drawing a burst of laughter from the crowd. He took that laughter for applause and even clasped his hands toward the onlookers in thanks.

Qin Mo immediately summoned Wu Shengze and gave him a string of instructions. Wu Shengze's expression shifted before he turned and left. Qin Mo sat down and carefully read through the booklet issued by the Central Military Office, discussing troop deployment with his two cronies.

The private armies of all the noble houses totaled nearly two hundred thousand men. Add to that the Great Xia Imperial Guards rotating their garrisons, and without detailed arrangements, disputes over roads, campsites, and the collection of necessary weapons and equipment would inevitably breed countless incidents of chaos.

Qin Mo's marching position was fairly good, somewhat toward the rear of the central army. Though an official road led north, the vanguard would inevitably need to repair roads and bridges, so that duty was always assigned to noble families. The rear guard carried vast quantities of supplies, and there would certainly be no shortage of trouble there either. Thus, the closer one was to the central army, the better. One's position in the marching order was a reflection of the power and influence noble houses held within the Great Xia Empire.

By the time everyone had more or less finished studying the march, Wu Shengze returned as well. All eyes fell upon Qin Mo and Wang Renbi.

"Qin Mo, it isn't that this heir is bullying you. These fifty men were picked at random from my retainers. If I brought out my personal guard, those Fusang people would piss their pants, hahaha!"

"Really? ...Your personal guard has quite a few cultivators, doesn't it? How about I pit my personal guard against yours for a round?"

Another burst of laughter rose from the crowd. The old Prince Heng, Qin Lan, had treated his retainers with exceptional generosity, and among the retainers he left behind, the proportion of cultivators was unmatched in Great Xia—only the Imperial Household's elite guard could rival them. Wang Renbi had declared beforehand that cultivators were excluded from the contesting warriors, which was shameless in itself. Otherwise, why would Qin Mo have said he was no fool?

"Commander Chen, this battle is a contest between warriors of Great Xia and Fusang. I hope Commander Chen will attend as witness and see what sort of stuff these Fusang dwarves are made of." Wang Renbi's character was contemptible, but his talent for looking left and right while speaking of something else left everyone deeply impressed. He ignored Qin Mo's proposal completely and dragged Chen Xuanji into the matter instead.

"Your Highness, I would like to be present as judge. What does Your Highness think?" Chen Xuanji asked Qin Mo. Qin Mo was no ordinary heir. A prince bearing a single-character title was the highest rank of nobility in Great Xia apart from the emperor and crown prince, worlds apart from the so-called heirs present. He was someone who had to be addressed as Your Highness.

"This heir has no objection, but any cat or dog can't just find an excuse to challenge my retainers. There ought to be some stakes. I hear the Longxi Wang Clan is rich enough to rival a nation. Surely an heir to a duke of the Wang Family has some silver to spare."

"Hahaha... Qin Mo, you do have some sense. The Wang Family may not dare boast about anything else, but we certainly do not lack silver. We'll do as you say and add stakes—five thousand taels!" Qin Mo's mention of his family's wealth instantly awakened Wang Renbi's hidden instincts as a rich second-generation heir. Five thousand taels had considerable purchasing power in Great Xia; five taels of silver could let an entire family live comfortably for a year.

"I thought that with the Wang Family's wealth, you would stake at least fifty thousand taels. I never expected it to be only five thousand. What a disappointment." Qin Mo glanced at Wang Renbi, then let his eyelids droop. He truly was disappointed. Dayuan's sea salt production was rising steadily, with daily income already exceeding twenty thousand taels. He simply could not muster any interest in a mere five thousand taels.

"You... Qin Mo... do you even have fifty thousand taels?" Wang Renbi no longer knew how many times he had been shoved into a corner. As he spoke through gritted teeth, he asked himself, Could that rumor be false? Does Dayuan not lack money at all?

Whether you or I have fifty thousand taels will be clear after the fight. Wasting so much breath here is utterly pointless."

"Fine. This heir will put up fifty thousand taels as stakes today. Qin Mo, don't fail to produce the money when the time comes. The one disgraced will be Prince Heng." Wang Renbi had steeled himself. He could certainly mobilize more than fifty thousand taels, but it was military funding for the northern campaign. If anything went wrong, even as an heir, he would have difficulty explaining himself.

Their exchange whipped the nobles in the hall into a feverish mood. One after another, they filed out and headed straight for the Central Military Office's drill grounds, where the terrain was open enough for more than a hundred men to slaughter one another.

Though it was a drill ground, it stretched nearly a hundred zhang in every direction. Even with all the nobles standing along one side, they could not fill a single corner. To have such a vast unused plot of land within the imperial capital, where every inch of land was worth an inch of gold, showed the might of Great Xia's military.

On one side of the field stood the retainers of Duke Wuwei's Wang Family. Their armor was complete, and each bore the emblem of Duke Wuwei's house. Fifty men stood in formation, their killing intent rushing forth like a tide.

"How are these retainers picked at random? They are clearly elite soldiers selected with care."

"Exactly. Their armor is uniformly new and old, and killing intent radiates from every one of them. They are obviously veterans who have seen battle."

"Are those dwarves over there Qin Mo's Fusang troops? Their height... they really do look rather shabby..."

Harukami Jiro stood in the middle of the formation, watching the Wang Family's private soldiers opposite him and the Great Xia nobles pointing and commenting around them. Thoughts churned endlessly in his heart. Since arriving in Great Xia, he had been like a mountain man entering a city, his understanding of the world constantly overturned by everything he saw.

In Great Xia, people actually ate three meals a day; in Great Xia, so many people actually wore Songjiang Cloth; in Great Xia, there were actually so many nobles dressed in silk; in Great Xia, there actually...

After arriving at the Fengtai camp, he had gone as squad leader to a place called the "quartermaster's office" to collect weapons and equipment for his entire squad. The officer in charge had handed him a hundred fine-steel war spears, their spearheads nearly a chi long, black and grim—a glance told him they were weapons made for killing. Then came brand-new uniforms, cowhide boots, and even thick winter clothes. Winters in Fusang were bitterly cold too. Harukami remembered his family huddling together for warmth after snow fell, and quietly wondered whether he could bring this winter outfit home when he returned.

Finally, the quartermaster's officer gave him eleven sets of armor. That was right—armor. In Fusang, only noble bodyguards and true samurai possessed bamboo armor. Yet as Harukami looked at the armor issued to them, he could scarcely believe these were supplies meant for hired soldiers like them.

Ten heavy leather armors were inlaid with iron plates forged from fine steel, protecting the vital areas of the body. The leather was thick enough to withstand the long-range shots of crossbows. The quartermaster had said that every fire chief received one set of leather armor. But the set issued to him, the squad leader, was... iron armor.

Breastplate, arm guards, leg guards, and a war helmet with a face guard. Its design was far less elaborate than Fusang armor, and it did not look as mighty or imposing as the armor worn by Fusang lords. Yet its dark, lustrous texture told him exactly what it was. What the hell was this thing? Even a Fusang daimyo might not possess such a full set of steel protection.

There was a slot on the back of the armor, perfectly fitted to hold a horse-chopping saber. Though Harukami was not tall, making the saber nearly drag along the ground, he did not find his appearance ridiculous in the slightest. He was now a true samurai.

Today, while he had been drilling, General Wu came to the camp and gathered every officer from squad leader upward. He told them there would be a contest, that casualties might occur, and asked who dared to fight. Everyone stepped forward. No one was a fool. Wealth and honor were sought amid danger, and where were wealth and honor? In prosperous Great Xia.

A desolate horn blast interrupted Harukami's recollections. The fifty warriors opposite arranged themselves into a formation. Harukami recognized it—it was the Fish-Scale Formation of the Takeda Eight Formations.