Eastern Han Dynasty, not the Three Kingdoms

Chapter 1214 Inspecting the Army: The Wise Man Falls into the Trap

On the fifth day of the first month, a cold wind whipped the banners atop Chang'an. Ma Chao, clad in gleaming silver armor, stood at the center of the battlements, his civil and military officials standing solemnly behind him, their eyes piercing. Below, on the plain, a vast, dark army stretched out like a surging tide, their armor reflecting a chilling light in the morning sun. Even before they were arrayed, they exuded an intimidating aura.

"Boom-thump-"

War drums thundered, their sound echoing across the land. A vanguard of cavalry advanced slowly, their hooves pounding the frozen earth with a deep, resonant thud, as if the very ground trembled. Over ten thousand Xiliang cavalrymen, clad in black armor and draped in red cloaks, rode exceptionally powerful warhorses. The riders, with scimitars at their waists and long spears at their hands, their faces etched with the marks of time, their eyes sharp as eagles, were truly elite warriors forged from mountains of corpses and seas of blood. Every inch of their armor seemed soaked in blood, every neigh of their horses carrying the ferocity of battle.

The envoys on the city wall involuntarily held their breath. The more timid ones turned pale and instinctively gripped the city bricks; even the composed Yang Biao narrowed his eyes, his fingertips trembling slightly. Such military might was beyond the reach of ordinary warlords—the dust kicked up by the galloping horses almost dyed half the sky a yellowish-brown, and that indomitable, fearless spirit struck everyone's hearts like a heavy hammer.

"Truly a mighty army that swept across the grasslands..." an envoy murmured in admiration, his voice filled with undisguised awe. No matter how much they despised Ma Chao's tyranny, they had to admit at this moment that such military might was enough to shake the world.

However, amidst this overwhelming military might, both Zhuge Liang and Sima Yi frowned simultaneously.

Zhuge Liang gently waved his feather fan, his gaze sweeping over the iron cavalry formation. Within the seemingly orderly ranks, however, were many youthful faces. These boys wore armor disproportionate to their size, their hands gripping their halberds trembling slightly. Though they tried to straighten their backs, their eyes betrayed their naiveté, suggesting they were no more than fifteen or sixteen years old, likely never having seen a real battlefield.

Sima Yi's gaze fell upon the veterans mixed in with the ranks. Their armor was worn, their temples streaked with gray, and their knuckles gripping their swords were prominent, veins bulging. Judging by their age, most were over forty. In an era where the average lifespan was only around thirty, such old soldiers, if not promoted, should have long since retired to their fields to live out their remaining years in peace. Yet here they stood in formation, their eyes still gleaming with fierce courage, but unable to conceal their hunched figures and sluggish movements.

“Outwardly strong but inwardly weak…” Zhuge Liang muttered to himself, his feather fan resting in his palm. He recalled the refugees he had seen a few days ago, the emptiness of the city walls, and now, looking at the army before him, a mix of youths and veterans, he gradually understood—Ma Chao’s years of campaigning in the south and north, slaughtering millions of foreign tribes while sweeping across the grasslands, seemingly had resulted in glorious victories, but in reality, they had already exhausted the vitality of Xiliang. Too many able-bodied men had died in battle, forcing young men to don armor prematurely; the fact that veterans could not return to their fields indicated that there was no fresh blood left to replenish the army.

Sima Yi's fingertips lightly traced the city bricks, a cold glint flashing in his eyes. He recalled the deliberately concealed wounds within Xiliang, the undercurrents beneath the bustling markets, and then, looking at this seemingly prosperous army, he suddenly found it laughable—relentlessly pursuing militarism while ignoring the people's suffering, even with temporary strength, how long could it last? The so-called "unbeatable" was nothing more than a false prosperity bought with the mortgaging of the future.

The war drums below the city walls still thundered, and Ma Chao's laughter carried on the wind up the city walls, brimming with an arrogant disdain for the world. But in the eyes of Zhuge Liang and Sima Yi, beneath this magnificent scene lay the seeds of eventual collapse. The military might still be sharp, but it was like an over-polished blade, seemingly gleaming with cold light, but in reality, its edge already harbored cracks. After a few more fierce battles, it would likely break on the battlefield.

On the city wall, most of the envoys were still intimidated by the military might, but these two men had calm eyes and a clearer understanding of the true strength and weakness of Xiliang.

On the other side of the city wall, Li Ru and Jia Xu stood side by side, with Xu Shu and Lu Su on either side. Despite the imposing military might below, they paid it little attention, their gazes fixed on the most conspicuous figures in the envoy formation.

Li Ru stroked his beard, a deep meaning hidden in the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, his gaze precisely locked on Sima Yi. The young man kept his eyes lowered, seemingly calm, but when he occasionally raised his eyes, the hint of inquiry and caution that flashed in his eyes could not escape Li Ru's notice.

Jia Xu stared at Zhuge Liang, noticing his feather fan waving lightly, his gaze shifting between the military formation and the city walls, and the faint smile on his lips clearly conveying a sense of understanding. Jia Xu's lips also curved into a smile, though the smile didn't reach his eyes.

Xu Shu frowned slightly as he looked at the young men and old soldiers in the army formation. He turned to Li Ru and said, "Can this arrangement really fool them?"

Lu Su was also worried: "Mr. Kongming and Young Master Sima are both astute people, and they have probably already seen through the flaws."

Li Ru didn't answer, only watching as Sima Yi suddenly raised his hand to adjust his robes. The gesture seemed casual, but it was as if he was concealing his conclusion. Meanwhile, Zhuge Liang was whispering something to Guan Yu. After listening, Guan Yu's brows relaxed slightly—clearly, Zhuge Liang had already informed his companion of his "judgment."

At that moment, Sima Yi and Zhuge Liang almost simultaneously withdrew their gazes, the thoughtful look on their faces fading, replaced by a calm and knowing expression.

Li Ru and Jia Xu exchanged a glance, seeing a knowing smile in each other's eyes.

“It seems they ‘understood’,” Li Ru said in a low voice, a hint of smugness in his tone.

Jia Xu nodded slightly: "Young people are sent to the army, old soldiers have not retired, and there was the spectacle of refugees a few days ago... Such 'flaws' are meant for smart people to see."

What they wanted was never to convince everyone that Xiliang was weak, but to let top strategists like Sima Yi and Zhuge Liang "come to their own conclusions." The presence of both young men and old soldiers, seemingly exposing the weakness of "depleted manpower," actually concealed a hidden strategy.

The refugees of a few days ago and the military formation of today, one feinting and the other real, one weak and the other strong, have revealed their "flaws" at crucial moments, making them most likely to trap even the most suspicious and wise.

“They thought they had seen through the truth,” Jia Xu said, a cold glint in his eyes as he watched Zhuge Liang and Sima Yi’s retreating figures. “But little did they know, this ‘truth’ was the answer we were handing them.”

Li Ru clapped his hands and chuckled: "The biggest mistake smart people make is trusting their own judgment too much. The more they think they've 'seen through the illusion,' the more they fall into our trap."

Before the dust had even settled after the departure of the Xiliang cavalry, a column of black-armored infantrymen marched in with perfectly synchronized steps. The clanging of their armor plates was as crisp as cracking jade, and their ranks were impenetrable—this was Gao Shun's elite Trapped Camp. The soldiers wore black iron masks, revealing only their piercing eyes. Their long halberds pointed diagonally at the ground, and they moved with the steadiness of a rock. This very unit had once defeated an army of ten thousand with only eight hundred men. Even now, without engaging in combat, their fierce spirit of "charging into battle with no regard for life" was palpable.

Just as the Trapped Camp passed, another group surged forward. Their armor was a motley collection, yet each soldier was agile and nimble, with short swords at their waists and bows and arrows slung across their backs—the Black Mountain Army brought by Zhang Yan. These men, long accustomed to fighting in the mountains, possessed a wild, untamed spirit. Their ranks, though seemingly less disciplined than the Trapped Camp, were subtly coordinated, moving swiftly like the wind and stopping as still as pines—clearly seasoned veterans of battle.

Three elite troops passed through the inspection passage beneath Chang'an City in succession, then turned back in the distance, forming ranks with their backs to the city walls. Tens of thousands of soldiers stood silently, their armor gleaming coldly in the sunlight. Even the warhorses had stopped neighing. The entire plain was so quiet that only the sound of the wind whipping the banners could be heard. The oppressive atmosphere made one's chest feel heavy.

Finally, Ma Yue led the Young Lin Army. A group of teenagers, dressed in well-fitting armor and gripping shortened spears, walked with meticulous precision, their steps less steady than those of the veterans. Their faces were red from the cold, but their eyes shone with an astonishing brightness. Their ranks were perfectly aligned, clearly the result of expert training. Upon reaching the city walls, Ma Yue gave a command, and the children shouted in unison, "We are willing to follow our King and sweep across the world!" Their voices were still young, yet they carried a formidable spirit.

Ma Chao clapped his hands and laughed, turning to the envoys on the city wall: "Gentlemen, what do you think of the appearance of my Xiliang army?"

Yang Biao cupped his hands and said, "The three armies are solemn and their armor is gleaming. They truly deserve to be called a battle-hardened army." Feng Ji also nodded, "The Trapped Camp and the Black Mountain Army live up to their reputation. Although the Young Lin Army is young, it has already shown its prowess. Your Majesty has many talented people under your command." Xu You exaggeratedly praised, "With such military might, which of the lords in the world can match it? If Lord Yuan saw this scene, he would probably also call him a 'hero'!" Zhang Song echoed, his words full of praise.

Zhou Yu's gaze swept over the ranks below the city walls, finally settling on Ma Chao. Their eyes met silently in mid-air. A subtle smile played on his lips, conveying a sense of understanding and tacit agreement.

"Xiliang is all bark and no bite?" Zhou Yu scoffed inwardly. He had witnessed the farce of the past few days; it was clear that the old fox Li Ru was orchestrating a scheme to manipulate these envoys and even the powerful lords behind them.

The "flaws" that Zhuge Liang and Sima Yi saw were, in Zhou Yu's eyes, deliberate bait. Looking at the army formation below the city, Zhou Yu had already clearly dissected the Western Liang's strategy.

The recent drama of refugees all point to "excessive military spending and a facade of peace." Those deliberately exposed "flaws" are signals sent to various warlords: Xiliang is already beset by internal and external troubles, only concerned with fighting and neglecting the lives of ordinary people.

Today's military parade, however, carries a different purpose. The thunderous roar of cavalry crushing the frozen earth, the impenetrable formation of the elite troops, and the murderous glint in the eyes of the Black Mountain Army—all these clearly conveyed the message: despite the "numerous contradictions" plaguing Xiliang, its military might remains unstoppable. This was a form of deterrence, preventing those who believed in Xiliang's weakness from easily provoking it, forcing them to stand by and watch, waiting for Xiliang to crumble from within.

The most exquisite parts are those of the young men and the old soldiers.

Zhou Yu glanced in the direction of Zhuge Liang and Sima Yi, and seeing the certainty in their expressions, he knew they had "seen through" the "secret." In the eyes of these two wise men, the sight of young men in armor meant the depletion of manpower, and the fact that the old soldiers had not retreated suggested the loss of able-bodied men. This perfectly corroborated the scene of "displaced people" a few days earlier, making them even more convinced that Xiliang was already at its last gasp and was only maintaining the status quo by sheer willpower.

But Zhou Yu knew perfectly well that this was a trap set by Li Ru for clever people.

The refugees of a few days ago might not have been believed by Zhuge Liang and Sima Yi, but after seeing the young and old soldiers in the Xiliang army with their own eyes today, they must have believed it now.

"What a brilliant combination of deception and reality," Zhou Yu thought to himself. Li Ru had calculated people's hearts to the extreme, using layer upon layer of illusions to completely conceal the true strength of Xiliang.